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CYCLOPAEDIA 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE: 
 
 EMBRACING 
 
 PERSONAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES OF AUTHORS. 
 
 AND SELECTIONS FROM THEIR WRITINGS. 
 
 FKOM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT DAY 
 
 PORTRAITS, AUTOGRAPHS, AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 EVERT A. DITYCKINCK AND GEORGE L. DUYCKIXCK, 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 CHARLES SOIilBNER 
 
 1856. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S55, 
 
 BY CHARLES SCEIENEE, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 R. CRAIGHEAD, 
 
 ELECTROTYPE!! AND 6TEP.EOTYPEE, 
 
 53 Veaey Street, N. T 
 
 O A. ALVORD Printer. 
 23 Gold sued'. 
 
i-»t«arv. Univ. <rf 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 In submitting the. following work to the Public, it may not be amiss, though the 
 numerous articles of which it is composed must speak separately for themselves, to 
 offer a few words of general introduction, setting forth the intent, the necessary limitations, 
 and presenting a few suggestions, which may give unity to the apparent variety. 
 
 The design of the Cyclopaedia is to bring together as far as possible in one book 
 convenient for perusal and reference, memorials and records of the writers of the country 
 and their works, from the earliest period to the present day. In the public and private 
 library it is desirable to have at hand the means of information on a number of topics 
 which associate themselves with the lives of persons connected with literature. There are 
 numerous points of this kind, not merely relating to authorship, but extending into the 
 spheres of social and political life, which are to be sought for in literary biography, and 
 particularly in the literary biography of America, where the use of the pen has been for the 
 most part incidental to other pursuits. The history of the literature of the country involved 
 in the pages of this work, is not so much an exhibition of art and invention, of literature in 
 its immediate, and philosophical sense, as a record of mental progress and cultivation, of facts 
 and opinions, which derives its main interest from its historical rather than its critical 
 value. It is important to know what books have been produced, and by whom ; whatever 
 the books may have been or whoever the men. 
 
 It is in this light that we nave looked upon the Cyclopedia of American Literature, a 
 term sufficiently comprehensive of the wide collection of authors who are here included 
 under it. The study and practice of criticism may be pursued elsewhere : here, as a 
 matter of history, we seek to know in general under what forms and to what extent 
 literature has been developed. It is not the purpose to sit in judgment, and admit or 
 exclude writers according to individual taste, but to welcome all guests who come reason- 
 ably well introduced, and, for our own part, perform the character of a host as quietly and 
 efficiently as practicable. 
 
 A glance at the contents of this work will show that an endeavor has been made to 
 include as wide a range of persons and topics as its liberal limits will permit. It has been 
 governed by one general design, to exhibit and illustrate the products of the pen on 
 American soil. 
 
 This is connected more closely here, than in the literature of other countries, with 
 biographical details not immediately relating to books or authorship ; since it is only of 
 late that a class of authors by profession has begun to spring up. The book-producers of 
 the country have mostly devoted their lives to other callings. They have been divines, 
 physicians, lawyers, college-professors, politicians, orators, editors, active military men, 
 travellers, and, incidentally, authors. It is necessary, therefore, in telling their story, to 
 include many details not of a literary character, to exhibit fairly the proportion which 
 literature bore in their lives. 
 
 As the work has not been restricted to professed authors, of whom very few would have 
 been found, neither has it been limited to writers born in the country. It is sufficient 
 
 \\% 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 for the purpose that they have lived and written here, and that the land has been 
 enriched by their labors. Indeed it is one of the marked facts in American cultivation, 
 that in its early formative period it was so fortunate as to start with some of the finest 
 products of the European mind. The divines of Cambridge, who brought with them to 
 the New World the seed of literary, as well as of political and religious life ; the men 
 who taught at Harvard and William and Mary, who first spoke from the pulpits, who 
 wrote the first historical records, who furnished the supplies for the first presses, were 
 Englishmen by birth, as they and their successors were by political constitution, down to 
 the comparatively recent period of the Revolution. Even since that period, the mental 
 vigor of the country has been as constantly recruited by European minds, as its material 
 conquests of the soil have been extended by European arms and hands. To ignore this, 
 would be treasonable to the higher interests of letters, whose greatest benefit is to associate 
 all nations in intellectual amity and progress. With pleasure we have placed upon 
 these pages, accounts of foreign scholars and writers who have visited us and lived among 
 us, frequently enduring privation, and freely expending their talents and energies in the 
 literary service of the country. It is an honor, as it is a most liberal advantage to 
 America, that men like Berkeley, Priestley, Dr. Cooper, Witherspoon, Nesbit, Follen, 
 Lieber, Schaff, Agassiz, Guyot, have freely joined their contributions to the stock of our own 
 authors. The country has received their books, and profited by their lessons and expe- 
 rience. It cannot grudge the few pages which justice, no less than gratitude and affection, 
 assigns to their story. 
 
 The arrangement of the work, it will be seen, is chronological, following as nearly as 
 practicable the date of birth of each individual. 
 
 As a record of National Literature, the Cyclopaedia may be divided into three general 
 periods ; the Colonial Era, the Revolutionary Period, and the Present Century. 
 
 Each of these is marked by its distinct characteristics. The writers of the first period 
 include the New England Puritan school, the patient, laborious, well read, and acute 
 divines, the scholars who gave life to the early seats of learning, the first race of chroniclers, 
 several genial observers of nature, as the Bartrams, and an occasional quaint poet, 
 who penned verses without consulting the pleasure of Minerva. In this period there is 
 rudeness, roughness, but much strength ; frequently a high order of eloquence ; great dili- 
 gence, and an abundant collection of materials for history. Harvard College, William and 
 Mary, Yale, the College of New Jersey, King's College New York, the University of 
 Pennsylvania, the College of Rhode .Island, and Dartmouth College, were established in 
 this era. The great men of this period were Roger Williams, Cotton, Hooker, the 
 Mathers, Blair, Golden, Logan, tire Bartrams, Jonathan Edwards — chiefly proficients in 
 divinity and science ; while Franklin heralded the more general literary cultivation which 
 was to follow. 
 
 The next, the Revolutionary period, may be said to have begun and ended with the 
 discussion of legal and constitutional principles. It was inaugurated by Otis, Dickinson, 
 Jefferson, and Adams, and closed with the labors of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay, in the 
 Federalist. The political and judicial arguments form its staple. They were the first 
 distinctive voices of America heard in the old world. There had been as good Puritan 
 divinity published in England as had been broached in Massachusetts and Connecticut; the 
 age of Dry den and of Pope had undoubtedly furnished better poets than the land of Anne 
 Bradstreet and Michael Wigglesworth ; but here was a new experience in government, a fresh 
 manly interpretation of constitutional right, expressed succinctly, forcibly, eloquently in the 
 colonial writings, fast ceasing to be colonial, which compelled a hearing, and elicited the 
 generous admiration of Chatham. Nor was this literature confined to didactic political 
 disquisition. In Francis Hopkinson it had a polished champion, who taught by wit, what 
 Dickinson and Drayton unfolded with argument and eloquence ; while Trumbull, Freneau, 
 and Brackenridge caught the various humors of the times, and introduced a new spirit 
 into American literature. The intellect of the country was thoroughly awakened. At 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 the close of the period in 1799, Dr. Benjamin Rush, whose mental activity had assisted in 
 promoting the result, wrote : " From a strict attention to the state of mind in this'country, 
 before the year 1774, and at the present time, I am satisfied the ratio of intellect is as 
 twenty to one, and of knowledge as one hundred to one, in these states, compared with 
 what they were before the American, Revolution." 
 
 The third period exhibited the results of this increased capacity. It gave a new range 
 to divinity and moral science, in writers like Charming'; Calhoun and Webster illustrated 
 the principles of political science ; Marshall, Kent, and Story interpreted law ; Paulding, 
 Irving, Cooper, Simms, Emerson, opened new provinces in fiction and polite literature ; 
 Hillhouse, Bryant, Halleek, Dana, Longfellow, sang their profound and sweet melodies ; 
 the national life at the earliest moment found its historian in Bancroft ; oratory gained new 
 triumphs in the halls of Congress, and a genial race of writers filled the various depart- 
 ments of letters, in turn thoughtful, sentimental, or humorous, as the occasion or theme 
 required. To enumerate them here, would be to repeat the index of these volumes. 
 
 In another light, this literature may be looked at in its relations to the several portions 
 of the country — the kind and extent of the productiveness varying with the character 
 and opportunities of each region. When the different elements of the question have been 
 duly considered, it will be found that mental activity has been uniformly developed. 
 The early settlements of the North ; its possession of the main seats of learning, drawing 
 together numerous professors ; its commercial centres, calling forth the powers of the press ; 
 its great cities, have given it the advantage in the number of authors : but without 
 these important stimuli, the South and West have been vigorous producers in the. fields of 
 literature. Virginia and South Carolina, whose long settlement and Atlantic relations 
 fairly bring them into view for competition here, have yielded their fair proportion of 
 authors ; their literature naturally assuming a political character. It is not a just test in the 
 comparison to take the results of colleges and great cities, where literary men are drawn 
 together, and contrast their numbers with the isolated cultivation of an agricultural region, 
 where letters are solely pursued for their own sake, as the ornament or solace of life, seldom 
 as a means of support, and where that book-generating person, the author by profession, 
 is almost wholly unknown. We are rather to look for the social literary cultivation. 
 Tested in this way, by their political representatives, their orators, their citizens who travel 
 abroad ; the men who are to "be met at home, on the plantations, and in large rural districts, 
 there is a literary cultivation in the South and West proportionate with any other part of the 
 country. • In the number of books on the list of American bibliography, their quota is 
 neither slight nor unimportant. 
 
 It has been an object in this work to exhibit fairly and amply all portions of the country. 
 The literature of the South is here more folly displayed than ever before. The notices 
 might readily have been extended, but in this, as in other cases, the work has been govern- 
 ed by necessary limitations. It is very evident to any one who has looked at the statistics 
 of the subject, that it would not be practicable, even on the generous scale of these volumes, 
 to introduce all the writers of the country. With great labor and patience such a work 
 might be undertaken, but its extent would soon place it beyond the reach of ordinary 
 purchasers. For that remote end, a complete American bibliography would be required : 
 and it is probable that at some future time it will be executed. But the plan of the present 
 Cyclopaedia is different. It required selection. On consultation with the publishers, it 
 was found that two royal octavos of the present liberal size could be afforded at a mode- 
 rate price, which would place the work within the reach of the entire class of purchasers ; 
 that any extension beyond this would involve an increase in cost unfavorable to its circu- 
 lation. This was the material limit. On the other side the space seemed sufficient for the 
 display of the comparatively brief period of American authorship, when the whole vast 
 range of English literature was, successfully for the purpose, included by Messrs. 
 Chambers in about the same compass. 
 
 The next question respected the distribution of the space. It was considered that, 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 under any principle of selection, the story should he as briefly told as possible ; being con- 
 fined to the facts of the case, with no more comment than was required to put the reader 
 in ready communication with the author, while matters of digression and essay-writing 
 should be carefully avoided. The lives of the authors were to be narrated, and their best 
 works exhibited in appropriate extracts. . 
 
 To the early periods, the preference was to be given in fulness of display. Many of 
 the lives required much curious investigation, in regions not readily accessible to the 
 general reader. The sympathy shown in this portion of the subject by various eminent 
 scholars and successful prosecutors of literature themselves, who were occasionally consulted 
 in its preparation, and who readily gave the most important assistance, seemed additional 
 warrant to devote considerable space to this research. 
 
 The Revolutionary matter presented similar claims. It was novel, much of it not 
 generally attainable, and it was full of picturesque life. The rapid multiplication of the 
 literary and scientific institutions of the country has permitted us to speak at length only 
 of those long established. An account of the early colleges has afforded much interesting 
 detail, while it has given the opportunity of commemorating many worthies of the past, 
 whose literary labors were chiefly entitled to notice from this connexion. 
 
 The passages to be selected for quotation, in a work of this kind, must frequently be 
 chosen for their minor qualities. The brief essay, the pertinent oration, the short poem, the 
 song or squib of the wit may be given, where it would be absurd to mutilate the entire line 
 of argument of a work on philosophy, or where it would be irreverent to violate the 
 sanctity of a treatise of divinity, by parading its themes, plucked from the sacred inclosure 
 of the volume. 
 
 The lighter passages of song and jest were numerous in the days of the Revolution, 
 and may be worth exhibiting, as a relief to graver incidents of the struggle, and as a proof 
 of the good heart with which our fathers entered into it. 
 
 The reader may trace a full exhibition of the admirable productions, both witty and 
 serious, which grew out of the argument for the Federal Constitution, in the passages from 
 Hopkinson, Belknap, Hamilton, and others. 
 
 It has been further an object in the extracts, to preserve the utmost possible complete- 
 ness : to present a subject as nearly as practicable in its entire form. The ample page of 
 the work has allowed us, in numerous instances, to carry this out even with such produc- 
 tions of length as an entire canto of McFingal, a reprint of the whole of Barlow's Hasty 
 Pudding, of the Buccaneer of Dana, complete papers by Fisher Ames, Clouverneur Morris, 
 and others ; while the number of shorter articles has been- occasionally extended to embrace ■ 
 most, if not all, that is of interest in the literary remains of minor authors. 
 
 A reference to the index will show, we trust, a worthy design in the selection of 
 passages from the various authors. We have kept in view the idea, that a work of the 
 opportunities of the present, should aid in the formation of taste and the discipline of 
 character, as well as in the gratification of curiosity and the amusement of the hour. The 
 many noble sentiments, just thoughts, the eloquent orations, the tasteful poems, the various 
 refinements of literary expression, drawn together in these volumes, are indeed the noblest 
 appeal and best apology for the work. The voice of two centuries of American literature 
 may well be worth listening to. 
 
 Avoiding, however, further enlargement on this theme, which might r.un into an 
 unseemly critical analysis of the book, we have left to us the safer and more agreeable duty 
 of acknowledging the friendly aid which has encouraged and assisted us in a laborious 
 undertaking. Many a letter of sympathy and counsel has warmed us to renewed effort in 
 the progress of the work. It has been our care to indicate on its appropriate page the 
 obligations due to others, and, if we may adopt the words of that good old divine and poet, 
 Dr. Donne, "to thank not him only that hath digg'd out treasure for me, but that bath 
 lighted me a candle to the place." 
 
 To our predecessors in these labors, ample acknowledgments are due, from the first 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 collections of American verse, in the last century, by Elilm II. Smith and Mathcw Carey, to 
 the excellent labors at the present day of Kettell, Everest, Griswold, and others. To their 
 works we may appropriately add the numerous collections of local literature, as the Boston, 
 New Hampshire, and Charleston books. In the earlier departments, special recognition 
 should be made of the valuable biographical dictionaries of Eliot and Allen ; in the later, 
 of the industrious biographical labors of Mr. J. S. Loring, in the several editions of his 
 " Boston Orators." 
 
 We have been under great obligations to several of the public libraries, and the efficient 
 acts of courtesy of their librarians. Of these institutions, we may particularly mention 
 the rare collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, of the Boston. Athena?um, of 
 the library at Harvard, of the American Antiquarian Society at Worcester, of the Library 
 Company and the Library of the American Philosophical Society at Philadelphia, of the 
 Historical Society, of the Society, Mercantile, and Astor Libraries of New York. We 
 never left one of these institutions without a new sense of the magnitude of the subject 
 before us. In this connexion, we cheerfully express our thanks, not merely as an aid, but 
 as an honor to our enterprise, for the cordial cooperation of the Rev. John L. Sibley of Har- 
 vard, Charles Folsom of Boston, Mr. S. F. Haven of Worcester, Mr. E. C. Herrick 
 of Yale, Messrs. J. J. and Lloyd P. Smith of Philadelphia, Mr. Philip J. Forbes, Mr. 
 George H. Moore, Mr. S. Hastings Grant, and Mr. J. G. Cogswell of New York. 
 
 Numerous private collections have been freely opened to us. We have been favored 
 with the use of many rare volumes from the choice and costly libraries of Mr. J. Carter 
 Brown of Providence, Mr. George Ticknor of Boston, the Rev. Dr. Hawks, Mr. George Ban- 
 croft, Mr. James Lenox, Mr. E. B. Corwin of New York ; while important incidental aid in 
 this way has been rendered us by Mr. J. Pennington, Mr. Charles J. Ihgersoll, Mr. Henry 
 D. Gilpin, Mr. J. T. Fisher, Mr. C. B. Trego, Mr. W. B. Reed, Mr. II. C. Baird of 
 Philadelphia ; Professor Gammell of Brown University, Mr. Joseph Johnson and Mr. 
 John Russell of Charleston, South Carolina ; Mr. Samuel Colman, Mr. George B. 
 Rapelye, Mr. John Allan, and Mr. W. J. Davis of New York. To both the library and 
 valuable counsel of Dr. John W. Francis of New York we have been under repeated 
 obligations. 
 
 To Mr. Washington Irving we are indebted for a special act of courtesy, in his contri- 
 bution to the notice of Allston of an interesting series of personal reminiscences. We 
 are under like obligations to Dr. Francis, for a similar recollection of Philip Freneau. 
 One of the last letters written by the late Col. D. J. McCord of Columbia, South Carolina, 
 was a communication printed in its place, on Dr. Thomas Cooper. The privilege of 
 friendly consultation with the Rev. Dr. Osgood of New York has introduced us to much 
 of the abundant literature of his religious denomination. We have also received cordial aid 
 from Mr. Henry T. Tuckerman, whose published writings afford many illustrations of the 
 topics of these volumes. Other acknowledgments appear on various pages of the book. 
 
 In the department of Southern literature, where information rests largely in the hands 
 of individuals, we have been greatly strengthened by correspondence with Mr. W. Gilmore 
 Simms cf South Carolina, bringing with it a train of kindly assistance from others ; and 
 with Mr. John Esten Cooke of Richmond, which opened .to us frequent avenues to infor- 
 mation in Virginia. To Mr. Harrison Hall of Philadelphia, and his brother Judge James 
 Hall of Cincinnati, we are under similar obligations in other regions of the country. From 
 Professor Porcher of the Charleston College, President Swain of the University of North 
 Carolina, Professor Totten of William and Mary, Mr. Gessner Harrison of the University 
 of Virginia, Professor North of Hamilton College, Mr. Win. W. Turner of the National 
 Institute, we have received assistance in the notices of the several seats of learning 
 with which they are connected. It may not be amiss here, for the prevention of possible 
 comparisons in future, to state, that in some instances — to the extent, perhaps, of three or 
 four pages of the book — we are under a debt to ourselves, having drawn upon a few critical, 
 papers heretofore printed in the L terary World. 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 Not the least difficult portion of the work has been the preparation of the numerous 
 portraits. They have been frequently obtained from original sources, and are now 
 engraved for the first time, from old paintings, or recent daguerreotypes and photographs. 
 If they prove of interest to the purchasers of the book, proportioned to the care often 
 expended upon them, the publisher and editors may be well satisfied. A few choice daguer- 
 reotypes are from the hands of Messrs. Southworth and Hayes of Boston, and Mr. Richards of 
 Philadelphia, while a large number have been taken by Mr. M. B. Brady of New York, — a 
 sufficient guarantee of this stage of the work. The drawings from them have been made 
 by Mr. W. Momberger of this city. The engravings are by Mr. W. Roberts. For several 
 of the vignettes we are indebted to the Homes of American Authors, at present published 
 by the Messrs. Appleton. 
 
 A large number of the autograph illustrations were kindly placed at our disposal by 
 the Rev. Dr. W. B. Sprague, of Albany, New York. Valuable aid of this kind has been 
 freely given by others. 
 
 The accuracy of the work has been greatly promoted by the cooperation of Mr. W. 
 H. Smith, who has been long known to many of the scholars of the country as proof- 
 reader in the office of Mr. Robert Craighead, where the Cyclopaedia was put in type. 
 
 In conclusion, we may, we trust, ask a generous and kindly consideration for a work 
 of much difficulty. Inequalities and short-comings may, doubtless, be discovered in it. 
 " Errors Excepted," the usual phrase appended to a merchant's account, the gloss upon all 
 things human, may with propriety be added at the termination of an undertaking of this 
 nature. 
 
 The perfection of such a work is the result of time and experience. The 
 present volumes may perhaps fall into the hands of some who are able and willing 
 to afford additional information ; and this may be employed in the supplements to future 
 editions, if indeed the book shall attain such desirable repetitions. We need not say, that 
 any suggestions, looking fairly to the design of the work, will be welco'-ie. In the delicate 
 duty to contemporaries, every hour adds to the opportunities of such an undertaking : but 
 the authors of the day are well able, in their own writings, to speak for themselves. We 
 may be allowed to insert a caveat against the pretension that we have not omitted 
 some of the true worthies of America — though the reader will perhaps be reminded, on 
 the other hand, of the story told by Sir Walter Scott, of the laird on a visit to his 
 friend in the country. He was about taking his departure homewards, when he thought 
 of interrogating his servant, who had been engaged in packing his portmanteau. " Have 
 you put in everything that belongs to me? " " At least, your honor," was the candid reply. 
 
 There is an old passage in the dedication of the venerable Cotton Mather's Decennium 
 Lvctiiosum, which is perhaps a good sequel to the anecdote in this relation. "Should any 
 Petit Monsieur," says he, " complain (as the captain that found not himself in the tapestry 
 hangings, which exhibited the story of the Spanish invasion in 1-588), that he don't find 
 himself mentioned in this history, the author has this apology : he has done as well and as 
 vnich as he could, that whatever was worthy of a mention, might have it ; and if this collection 
 of matters be not complete, yet he supposes it may be more complete than any one else 
 hath made ; and now he hath* done, he hath not pulled up the ladder after him: at/ten 
 may go on as they please with a completer composure." 
 
 New Yoke, August 16, 1S55. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GEORGE SANDYS 1 
 
 Passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses. 
 
 WILLIAM VAUGHAN 2 
 
 Passages from the Golden Fleece and Church Mili- 
 tant. 
 
 WILLIAM MOEELL 2 
 
 Passages from Nova Anglia. 
 
 WILLIAM WOOD 3 
 
 Passages from New England's Prospect. 
 
 GOOD NEWS FROM NE 1 ' ENGLAND ... 4 
 The New England Preachers. 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 5 
 
 Story of Pocahontas. 
 
 The Sea Mark. 
 THOMAS HARRIOT— ALEXANDER WHITAKEE— 
 WILLIAM 8TRACIIEY 7 
 
 HARVARD COLLEGE 8 
 
 Pietas et Gratulatio. 
 
 THE BAY PSALM BOOK . . . . . .10 
 
 NATHANIEL WARD 18 
 
 Prefatory Lines to the Poems of Anne Bradstreet. 
 
 JOHN COTTON 21 
 
 On my reverend and d'-ar father, Mr. Thomas Hooker, 
 late Pastor of the Church at Hartford, on Connecti- 
 cut. 
 A thankful acknowledgment of God's Providence. 
 Lines on bis removal from Boston. 
 
 JOnN NORTON 23 
 
 Picture of a Student's life. 
 
 TliOMVS HOOKER 24 
 
 From "Th ■ Application of Redemption-" 
 
 From "Tiie Doubting Christian drawn to Christ." 
 
 ADAM WINTHROP 25 
 
 Verses mad.' to the Lady Mildmay at ye birth of ber 
 Sonne Henery. 
 
 JOHN WINTHROP 25 
 
 or a few persons who left the Colony in 1642. 
 Liberty and Law. 
 
 THOMAS MORTON 28 
 
 Passages from New England's Memorial. 
 
 WILLI \M BR \DFOED 30 
 
 Of Boston in New England. 
 Fragmentary Poem oh New England. 
 
 JOHN DAVENPORT 31 
 
 ROGER WILLIAMS 32 
 
 Poems on Life with the Indians. 
 Conference between Truth and Peace. 
 Plea for John Clarke. 
 
 JOHN CLARKE 
 SAMUEL GORTON . 
 EDWARD JOHNSON 
 JOHN ELIOT . 
 
 38 
 38 
 30 
 89 
 
 DANIEL GOOKIN 43 
 
 Eliot's Teaching. 
 
 THOMAS SHEPARD. 
 
 Shipwreck off Yarmouth. 
 Views of Toleration. 
 
 PAGE 
 ROGER CLAP 44 
 
 New England Retrospect. 
 
 NATHANIEL MORTON— PETER BITLKLEY— JOSI- 
 AH WINSLOVV— EDWARD BULKLEY— SAMUEL 
 STONE— JONATHAN MITCHELL— JOHN SHER- 
 MAN-JOSHUA 8COTTOW 45 
 
 ANNE BRADSTREET 47 
 
 Contemplations. 
 . Old Age recounts the history of the Puritan period, 
 from " The Four Ages of Man." 
 Alexander meets Darius, from " The Four Monarchies 
 
 of the World." 
 The Flesh and the Spirit. 
 
 PETER FOLGEE . 52 
 
 A Looking-glass for the Times; or, the former Spirit of 
 New England revived in this genen.ti.rn. 
 
 WILLIAM HUBBARD 50 
 
 MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 57 
 
 Meat out of the Eater. 
 A Prayer unto Christ. 
 A Song of Emptiness. 
 
 INCREASE MATHER 59 
 
 COTTON MATHER 59 
 
 An hortatory and necessary Address, to acountrv now 
 extraordinarily alarmed by the wrath of the Devil. 
 
 The Tarantula. 
 
 The life of Mr. Ralph Partridge. 
 
 Ministry of Angels. 
 
 Psalm C. 
 
 On the death of his son. 
 
 On the death of his daughter. 
 
 BENJAMIN TOMPSON 66 
 
 New England's crisis. w 
 
 OUR FOREFATHERS' SONG 68 
 
 THOMAS MAKIN 68 
 
 Praises of Pennsylvania. 
 
 JOHN JOSSELYN 69 
 
 Voyage to New England. 
 JOHN WILLIAMS TO 
 
 Passages from "The Redeemed Captive." 
 
 JOHN LEDEEER 71 
 
 Travels in Virginia. 
 
 FRANCIS KN VPP . . . . . . . . 72 
 
 A New England pond. 
 Birds and fishes. 
 
 BENJAMIN COLMAN 78 
 
 Elijah's ascension. 
 
 To Urania, on the death of ber first and only child. 
 
 WILLIAM BYRD 74 
 
 Passages from "The Westover Manuscripts." 
 
 JAMES LOGAN 77 
 
 The intellectual delight of age, from his translation of 
 Cicero. 
 
 ROGER WOLCOTT 79 
 
 Proverbs xviii. 14, — "A wounded spirit who can 
 bear ?" 
 
 CADWALLADEE COLDEN 80 
 
 THOMAS PEINCE .... ... 81 
 
 WILLIAM AND MAEY COLLEGE . . . . S2 
 
xn 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TALE COLLEGE 
 JONATHAN EDWARDS 
 CHAELES CHAUNCEY . ^. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 85 
 
 THOMAS CHALKLEY 
 
 Passages from his lite, labors, travel, &c. 
 
 AQUILA EOSE 
 
 To his companion at sea. 
 
 Piece wrote by him for the boys who carried out the 
 weekly news-papers to their master's customers 
 in Philadelphia; to whom commonly every New- 
 Year's day, they present verses of this" kind. 
 
 SAMUEL KEIMEE '. . 
 
 An elegy on the much lamented Death of the Inge- 
 nious and well-beloved Aqtjila Eose. 
 
 The sorrowful lamentation of Samuel Keiiner. Printer 
 of the Barbadoes Gazette. 
 
 GEOEGE WEBB 
 
 Batchelors' Hall : a Poem. 
 
 95 
 96 
 
 JOSEPH BEIENTNALL 
 
 Lines prefixed to Webb's "Batchelors" Hall." 
 
 JAMES EALPH 
 
 BENJAMIN FEANKLIN .... 
 A Parable against Persecution. 
 The Ephemera ; an emblem of human life. 
 The Whistle. 
 
 Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout. 
 Paper; a poem. 
 My plain country Joan. 
 The mother country. 
 The Mechanic's Song. 
 
 DAVID FRENCH 
 
 Odes of Anacreon. 
 
 MATHEE BYLE3 
 
 To — Desiring to borrow Pope's Homer. 
 
 A full and true account of how the lamentable wicked 
 
 French and Indian pirates were taken by the valiant 
 
 Englishmen. 
 Passages from a Sermon on Death. 
 The Butterfly, a Type of the Eesurrection. 
 Passage from " The Conflagration."' 
 New England Hymn. 
 
 JOSEPH GEEEN ......... 
 
 Hymn written during a voyage. 
 
 The Psalm. 
 
 Parody by Mather Byles. 
 
 The Poet s Lamentations for the loss of his cat, which 
 
 he used to call his muse. 
 Ode. 
 
 JOHN CALLENDEE . 
 
 Liberal Principles of Ehode Island. 
 
 JANE TUEELL. . 
 
 Hymn. 
 
 An Invitation into the country, in imitation of Horace. 
 
 To my Muse, Dec. 29, 1726. 
 
 JOHN SECCOMB 
 
 Father Abbey's will ; to which is now added a letter 
 of courtship to his virtuous and amiable widow. 
 
 JOHN BEYEEIDGE 
 
 Xo ******** 
 
 THOMAS COOMBE 
 
 Passage from the "Peasant of Auburn." 
 THOMAS HUTCHINSON .... 
 
 128- 
 130 
 
 EARLY CAEOLINA LITEEATUEE . 
 
 JOHN OSBOEN 
 
 A Whaling Song. 
 
 THE EEV. JOHN ADAMS 
 
 From a poem on Society. 
 
 To my Honored Father on the loss of his sight. 
 
 Horace, Book I. Ode I. 
 
 JOHN WINTHEOP 
 
 Passage from the "Lecture on Comet'." 
 SAMUEL CCRWEN 
 
 Letter to Richard Ward. Beg... Salem. 
 
 Passages from his Diary. 
 
 BENJAMIN CHUECH .... 
 A Scuffle. 
 Death of King Philip. 
 
 DAYID BEAINEED 
 
 Indian Superstition. 
 
 ■TAMES McSPAEEAN .... 
 ' The Cold Winter 1740-1. 
 
 JONATHAN MAYHEW 
 
 Passage from a "Thanksgiving Discourse." 
 
 101 
 
 102 
 
 102 
 104 
 
 116 
 
 no 
 
 120 
 
 124 
 
 130 
 181 
 132 
 
 138 
 
 185 
 136 
 
 140 
 143 
 144 
 
 PAGE 
 
 JOHN WOOLMAN 146 
 
 Passages from his Diary. 
 
 SAMUEL HOPKINS 150 
 
 SAMSON OCCUM , .115 
 
 WILLIAM LIVINGSTON 151 
 
 The Eetreat, from the poem, " Philosophic Solitude." 
 
 Favorite Books. 
 
 A Wife. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 JAMES OTIS 155 
 
 Advantages of Representation. 
 
 JAMES BOWDOIN 157 
 
 Paraphrase of Economy of Human Life. 
 
 EZEA STILES 15s 
 
 Extracts from the Literary Diary. Newport, E. L 
 
 (till 1777.) ' 
 
 On Kings, from "Lives of the Judges." 
 
 SAMUEL SEABUEY 162 
 
 MERCY WARREN 103 
 
 From "The Ladies of Castile." 
 
 To the Hon. J. Winthrop, Esq., who. on the American 
 determination, in 1774, to suspend all commerce 
 with Britain (except for the real Decessaries of life), 
 requested a poetical list of the articles the ladies 
 might comprise under that head. 
 
 From "A Political Reverie," Jan., 1774. 
 
 GEORGE BERKELEY 1C3 
 
 Verses on the prospect of planting Arts and Learning 
 in America. 
 
 CTTAELES THOMSON 170 
 
 ROBERT ROGERS 170 
 
 The War Song. 
 
 JOSEPH GALLOWAY 172 
 
 HECTOE ST. JOHN CEEVECC3TTR . . . .178 
 American Farmers' Pleasures. 
 Song and Instinct. 
 The Humming Bird. 
 A Journey with Franklin. 
 
 THE LIBEAEY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA 177 
 
 GEOEGE WASHINGTON 179 
 
 JOnN DICKINSON 1S1 
 
 PELEG FOLGEE . ■ 103 
 
 Dominum collaudamus. 
 
 JOHN ADAMS . 1S4 
 
 Passages from the Diary. 
 Fromthe Letters. 
 
 HUGH WILLIAJMSON 189 
 
 HUGH PETEES . . . . . . . .190 
 
 My Wishes. 
 
 SAMUEL PETEES 190 
 
 Passages from " History of Connecticut." 
 
 TnOMAS GODFEEY 195 
 
 From "The Prince of Parthia." 
 
 Poesy, from "The Court of Fancy. 1 * 
 
 Son:.'. 
 
 A Dithyrambic on Wine. 
 
 THOMAS PAINE 197 
 
 Ode on the Death of General Wolfe. 
 Reflections on the Life and Death of Lord Clive. 
 The American Crisis. — Number One. 
 Liberty Tree. 
 
 From the Castle in the Air to the little Corner of the 
 World. 
 
 ETHAN ALLEN 200 
 
 Conquest of Ticonderoga. 
 
 FRANCIS HOPKINSON 2C9 
 
 A letter from a gentleman in America to his friend in 
 Europe, on white-washing. 
 
 Modern Learning exemplified by a specimen of a col- 
 legiate examination. 
 
 Dialogue on the Address of the Philosophical Society 
 to Dr. Franklin. 
 
 Verses. 
 
 Description of a Church. 
 
 A Morning Hymn. 
 
 An Evening Hymn. 
 
 An Epitaph for an Infant 
 
 A Camp Ballad. 
 
 The Battle of the Kegs. 
 
 The New Eoof : a Song for Federal Mechanics. 
 
 JACOB DUCTTE «» 
 
 From " Caspipina's Letters." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 HENRY CETTGER .... 
 Passages from Speeches. 
 The Golden Days of Harry Cruger. 
 
 "WILLIAM BAETEAM . 
 Ephemera. 
 
 Crocodiles on the St. John's. 
 Evening scene in Florida. 
 
 EDWAED BANCROFT . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 221 
 
 BENJAMIN CHURCH 
 
 The Choice, a Poem. 
 
 ELIZABETH FEEGUSON .... 
 Poetical Correspondence. 
 
 JAJUES ALLEN 
 
 From the Poem on the Massacre. 
 
 ST. GEOEGE TUCKER 
 
 Stanzas. 
 
 THEODORIC BLAND— RICHARD BLAND 
 
 NATHANIEL EVANS 
 
 AdUulielmum Lauderum, P.P. 
 To William Lauder, P.P. 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY DEAYTON . 
 Passage from Jury Charge. 
 
 THOMAS JEFFEESON 
 
 Dialogue between Head and Heart. 
 Character of Washington. 
 Moralities, 
 
 NATHANIEL EMMONS 
 
 Passages from Jeroboam Sermon. 
 
 JAMES MOODY 
 
 Passages from his Narrative. 
 
 JOSIAH QUINCY, Jk 
 
 JEEEMY BELKNAP 
 
 The Old Confederation, from " The Foresters." 
 The New Constitution. 
 
 ELIJAH FITCH . . . . ' . 
 
 The True Christian. 
 Thj Choice. 
 
 LINDLEY MUEEAY 
 
 Passages from Autobiography. 
 Song— To my Wife. 
 
 JOHN JAY 
 
 From the Address of the New York Convention, 1776. 
 
 BENJAMIN RUSH 
 
 An Account of the Influence of the Military and Poli- 
 tical Events of the American Revolution upon the 
 Human Body. 
 Biographical Anecdotes of Anthony Benezet. 
 Biographical Anecdotes of Benjamin Lay. 
 
 COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY 
 
 JOHN DAYIES 
 
 Hymns. 
 JOHN WITHEESPOON 
 
 Maxim V., from "The Characteristics. 1 ' 
 
 JAMES RIVINGTON 
 
 Witherspoon's Parody of Supplication. . 
 Hopkinson's Advertisement Extraordinary. 
 Freneau's Riviugton's Last Will and Testament. 
 
 JAMES M'CLUEG 
 
 The Belles of Williamsburg. 
 
 Sequel to the Belles of Williamsburg. 
 
 THE REDWOOD LIBRARY 
 
 223 
 
 223 
 229 
 
 235 
 236 
 
 236 
 237 
 
 239 
 
 246 
 
 249 
 
 251 
 253 
 
 JONATHAN MITCHEL SEWALL 
 Epilogue to Cato. 
 Eulogy on Laughing. 
 War and Washington. 
 
 HUGH HENRY BRACKENEIDGE .... 
 
 An Ode on the Battle of Bunker's Hill. 
 
 A Military Song, by the Army, on General Washing- 
 ton's victorious entry into the town of Boston. 
 
 An Election Scene. 
 
 Teague a member of the Philosophical Society. 
 
 Captain Farrago's Instructions to Teague on the 
 duello. 
 
 An Essay on C >mmon ^ense. 
 
 Prophicy of the greatness of America — from "The 
 Rising G'orv of America." 
 
 WILLIAM WHITE 
 
 Instructions to Missionaries in China, 
 ISAIAH THOMAS 
 
 BERNARD ROMANS .... 
 
 Tea. 
 DAVID RAMSAY .... 
 
 263 
 
 264 
 
 270 
 271 
 
 275 
 
 278 
 
 2S5 
 2S6 
 
 PAGE 
 
 JOHN PARKE ..... - . . - 3C5 
 
 To Melpomene. 
 To Lollius. 
 
 On the Return of Augustus??^ tain. 
 To Munatius Plancus. 
 
 JOHN WILCOCKS . .^Sw; . . 3 
 
 The two Peacocks. 
 
 Parody on Pope's Ode to Solitude. 
 JOHN TRUMBULL . 3jS 
 
 An Epithalarnium. 
 
 The Liberty Pole— M'Fingal, Canto III. 
 LEMUEL HOPKINS 319 
 
 On General Ethan Allen. 
 
 Passages from the " Political Green House." 
 
 A Plea for Union and the Constitution, from the 
 " Anarchiad." 
 
 The Hypocrite's Hope. 
 JAMES MADISON . . . ._ . . . - 322 
 
 JOHN LEDYARD 324 
 
 WILLIAM LINN 326 
 
 Washington. 
 
 PHILIP FRENEAU 327 
 
 ^•""""To a truly great man. 
 I To a would be great man. 
 
 Hymn to Liberty. 
 
 Lines on Cobbett. 
 
 Advice to Authors. 
 
 Directions for Courtship. 
 
 Lines occasioned by a visit to an old Indian burying- 
 ground. 
 
 The Indian Student; or Force of Nature. 
 
 The Dying Indian. 
 
 Death Song of a Cherokee Indian. 
 
 May to April. 
 
 The Wild Honeysuckle. 
 
 The Hurricane. 
 
 St. Catharine's. 
 
 Never sink. 
 
 The Man of Ninety, or a Visit to the Oak. 
 
 The Almanac Maker. 
 
 The New England Sabbath-day chase. 
 
 New England and New York. 
 
 The Eoyal Apprentice ; a London story. 
 
 To the Memory of the brave Americans, under 
 General Greene, in South Carolina, who fell in the 
 action of September 8, a781. 
 
 On the Memorable Victory obtained by the gallant 
 Captain John Paul Jones of the Bon Homme 
 Richard, over the Serapis, under the command of 
 Captain Pearson. 
 
 The Battle of Stonington, on the Seaboard of Connec- 
 ticut. 
 
 A Bacchanalian Dialogue, written 1803. 
 
 GOUVERNEUR MORRIS S48 
 
 Funeral Oration by the dead body of Hamilton. 
 The Eestoration of the Bourbons — 1814. 
 
 ALEXANDER GRAYDON .... .352 
 
 British Officers in Philadelphia before the Revolution. 
 
 James Smith, of Pennsylvania, the Signer of tho 
 Declaration of Independence. 
 
 A Prisoner of War in exile, at Flatbush. 
 
 Oratory, from "Notes by a Desultory Eeader." 
 
 Novels. 
 TIMOTHY DWIGHT 357 
 
 Psalm exxxvii. 
 
 The Smooth Divine. 
 
 Columbia. 
 
 The travelled Ape. — From an Epistle to Col. Hum- 
 phreys, 1785. 
 
 Fall of Empire, from "Greenfield Hill." 
 
 Round of American Life, " " 
 
 The Village Clergyman, " " 
 
 ANN ELIZA BLEECKER 865 
 
 To Mr. L * * * 
 
 To Miss Catherine Ten Eyck. 
 PHILLIS WHEATLEY 867 
 
 His Excellency General Washington. 
 
 Liberty and Pence. 
 
 To the University of Cambridge, wrote in 1767. 
 
 On the Death of the Eev. Dr. Sewall, 1769. 
 
 On the Death of the Eev. Mr George Whitefield, 
 1770. 
 
 A Farewell to America. 
 
 BENJAMIN THOMPSON 371 
 
 Cooking a Hasty Pudding. 
 
 DAVID HUMPHREYS -373 
 
 Putnam's Adventure with the Wolf. 
 Mount Vernon; an ode. 
 The Shepherd ; a song. 
 
 The Monkey who shaved himself and his friends; a 
 fable. 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 JAMES THACHER^--^- 378 
 
 COLUMBIA COLLEGE 379 
 
 MYLES COOPER . . . . . . . .380 
 
 Stanzas by an Exile from America. 
 
 THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY'— THE NEW YORK 
 SOCIETY LIBRARY 
 
 THE. UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 
 JOEL BARLOW 
 
 The Babylonian Captivity. 
 
 Guillotine Song. 
 
 08 the Discoveries of Captain Lewis. 
 
 Advice to a Raven in Russia. 
 
 Hymn to Peace. 
 
 The Conspiracy of Kings. 
 
 The Hasty Pudding. 
 
 JOHN MARSHALL 
 
 Washington. 
 
 AAEON BANCROFT 
 
 George Washington. 
 
 HANNAH ADAMS 
 
 357 | 
 
 358 ; 
 391 | 
 
 404 
 
 407 
 
 4CS 
 409 
 
 415 
 
 HENRY LEE 
 
 Champe's Expedition. 
 
 From the Funeral Oration on the Death of Gen. 
 Washington, delivered at the request of Congress. 
 
 ROYAL TYLER 
 
 From the .'hop of Messrs. Colon & Spondee. 
 
 Love and Liberty. 
 
 The author keepeth a country school : the anticipa- 
 tions, pleasures, and profits of a pedagogue. 
 
 Anecdotes of Dr. Benjamin Franklin, whom the au- , 
 thor visits in Philadelphia. 
 
 ALEXANDER HAMILTON 420 
 
 The Fate, of Major Andre. 
 
 From the Eulogium on Gen. Greene, before the So- 
 ciety of the Cincinnati. 
 
 BALLAD LITERATURE, &c, OF THE INDIAN, 
 FRENCH. AND REVOLUTIONARY WARS . . 427 
 Lovewell's Fight. 
 
 Tilden's Poems to animate and rouse the Soldiers, 429. 
 Braddock's Expedition, 430. 
 Ode to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania, 431. 
 Wolfe's " How stands the glass around ?" 
 John Maylem, 432. 
 George Cookings. 
 Benjamin Young Prime, 433. 
 Hearts of Oak, 434. 
 
 Come, join hand in band, brave Americans all, 435. 
 Come, shake your dull noddles. 
 The Massachusetts song of Liberty. 
 Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band, 436. 
 Planting the Liberty Pole. 
 Ballad of the Gaspee, 437. 
 Verses on Tea, 438. 
 
 Bob Jingle's Association of the Colonies, 489. 
 On hearing that the poor man was tarred and feathered. 
 On Calvert's Plains. 
 Hark, 'tis Freedom that calls, 440. 
 Miles 1 American Hero. 
 The Bombardment of Bristol, 441. 
 Bold Hawthorne, 442. 
 Free America, 448. 
 Poem on the present war. 
 Parody by John Tabor Kemp, 445. 
 Fall of British Tyrannv, a Tragi-Comcdy. 
 ■ Song of St. Tammany, 446. 
 
 Rise, rise, bright genius, rise, 447. 
 
 Come all you brave soldiers. 
 
 Continuation of Hudibras. 
 
 Battle of Trenton, 448. 
 
 The Fate of John Burgoyne. 449. 
 
 Progress of Sir Jack Brag, 450. 
 
 Prologue to Zara, 451. 
 
 Prescott ballads. 
 
 Tribute to Gen. Francis Nash, 452. 
 
 Yankee Doodle's Expedition to Rhode Island. 
 
 Wyoming Massacre, 453. 
 
 Washington, by Wheeler Case, 454. 
 
 The Fall of Burgoyne, 455. 
 
 Our 1 farce is now finished. 
 
 The Congratulation, 45(i. 
 
 The Siege of Savannah. 
 
 Washington the Hero of the West, 457. 
 
 Major Andre's Cow-Chase. 
 
 Brave Paulding and the Spv, 459. 
 
 Song of the Vermonters. 1779, 460. 
 
 The American Times, 461. 
 
 American Taxation. 
 
 Yankee Doodle, 468. 
 
 WILLIAM OHAELES WELLS 
 
 464 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ROBERT DINSMOOR 465 
 
 Skip's Last Advice. 
 
 The Poet's Farewell to the Muses. 
 
 The Sparrow. 
 
 A Scrap. 
 
 FISHER AMES 4G9 
 
 Monstrous Relations in Newspapers. 
 
 A Sketch of the Character ol Alexander Hamilton. 
 
 NOAH WEBSTER .474 
 
 NOAH WORCESTER , <79 
 
 JOHN ARMSTRONG 4S0 
 
 Passage from Newburgh Letters. 
 
 GEORGE R. MINOT . 4S1 
 
 Treatment of the Acadians, 1755. 
 
 SARAH WENTWORTH MORTON .... 483 
 Song for the Celebration of the National Peace. 
 
 WILLIAM DUANE 488 
 
 JAGOB CAMPBELL. . . • 484 
 
 Liberty. 
 
 MASON L. WEEMS 484 
 
 Early Anecdotes of Washington. 
 Keimer's attempt at a new religion, from " The Life 
 of Franklin. 11 
 
 JEDIDIAH MORSE 492 
 
 ALBERT GALLATIN 492 
 
 RICHARD ALSOP 495 
 
 Elegy. 
 
 A Newspaper Thunder-storm. 
 Governor Hancock 's Message on Stage Plays. 
 ■ Jefferson's Inaugural — Indian Ameliorations, 1805. 
 
 SUSANNA ROWSON .502 
 
 Affection. 
 
 To Time. 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 The Choice. 
 
 The I. dependent Farmer. 
 
 America, Commerce, and Freedom. 
 
 TABITHA TENNEY 504 
 
 Passages from "The Adventures of Dorcasina Shel- 
 dou." 
 
 JOSEPH BARTLETT 506 
 
 Passages from '* Physiognomy." 
 Aphorisms. 
 
 JAMES KENT 503 
 
 The New V- rk Convention for the Adoption of the 
 Federal Constitution, from an Address before the 
 Law Association. 
 
 ABIEL HOLMES . . . - 512 
 
 ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD 513 
 
 The elfish Man's Prayer on the prospect of war. 
 The Purse. 
 
 JOSEPH BROWN LADD 515 
 
 An Invocation to the Almighty. 
 Ode to Retirement. 
 What is Happiness? 
 
 SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILI 517 
 
 Krout Club Address. 
 
 Turtle Club Address. 
 
 Elegy on a Shell — the Nautilus. 
 
 Pythagoras and Sappho ; or, the Diamond and the 
 
 Rose. 
 Memorable Occurrences. 
 Speech of Tammany. 
 
 BROWN UNIVERSITY ... ..524 
 
 FRANCIS WATLAND 525 
 
 Passage from Missionary Discourse, 
 
 JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD 529 
 
 Exegi Monumentum. etc Lib. 3, Ode 30, Horace. 
 
 Ode to Connecticut river. 
 
 Song. 
 
 DARTMOUTH COLLEGE 530 
 
 SAMUEL LOW 538 
 
 The Winter Fireside. 
 
 On a Spring of Water in Kings County, Long Island. 
 
 JOHN S. J. GARDINER 534 
 
 Passages from Discourses. 
 
 WILLIAM DUNLAP 587 
 
 Scene from the Comedy, "The Father of an Only 
 
 Child." 
 A Night on the Hudson River with Charles Mathews, 
 
 from "The History of the American Theatre." 
 A Scene with Cooke and Cooper at Cato'fi,£rom "The 
 
 Memoirs of a Water Drinker." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 P.VGK 
 
 ALEXANDER WILSON 544 
 
 Passat from Journals. 
 
 The Schoolmaster. 
 
 At Koine on the Susquehanna. 
 
 Bob a:«3 Eingan. a tale. 
 
 Con:iel and Flora, a soDg. 
 
 Auchtertool. 
 
 The Blue Bird, from "The Ornithology." 
 
 The Fish Hawk. 
 JOHN EDMUND IIARWOOD 554 
 
 Ode to Indolence. 
 
 To Miss S — y, on returning the Juvenilia of "Wither. 
 
 In a \Y 1. 
 
 The Fri-..ds to their opposite Neighbors. 
 
 JOHN QDINCY ADAMS 556 
 
 Song. 
 
 The Wants of Man. 
 
 From the "Life and Character of James Madison." 
 
 T.IADDEUS MASON HARMS 5G1 
 
 The Triumphs of Superstition. 
 The Littie Orator. 
 
 JOSEPH DENN'IE ■ 562 
 
 To the Public. 
 On the Pleasures of Study. 
 On Meditation. 
 Ingratitude of Republics. 
 On Cleanliness. 
 
 DAVID EVERETT . 508 
 
 Li.ies spoken at a school exhibition, by a little boy 
 seven years old. 
 SAMUEL MILLER 569 
 
 DE WITT CLINTON 570 
 
 Provincial Influences on Literature, from the Dis- 
 c iurse be ore the Literary and Philosophical 
 Society. 
 Parties, from "The Letters of llibernicus." 
 Literary Taste. " " 
 
 DAVID HOSACK 574 
 
 FREDERICK DALCHO 575 
 
 AMERICVN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY . . 575 
 RUTGERS COLLEGE 5S0 
 
 JOHN M. MASON . 5S1 
 
 From the Funeral Oration on Washington. 
 
 JOSEPH HOPKINSON ...... 583 
 
 History of the Song of Hail Columbia. 
 
 WILLIAM MARTIN JOHNSON 5S5 
 
 On a Snow-Flake falling on a Lady's Breast. 
 
 Winter. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 Fame. 
 
 Epitaph on a Lady. 
 
 CUARLES BROCKDEN BROWN . . . .586 
 First Appearance of Carwin, from " Wieland." 
 Yellow Fever Scenes in Philadelphia, 1793, from 
 "Arthur Mervyn." 
 
 THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN 595 
 
 The Country Lovers, etc. 
 
 HOSE A BALLOT! 599 
 
 Blessings of Christ's Universal Reign. 
 
 ELIHU H. SMITH 599 
 
 Epistle to the Author of the Botanic Garden. 
 
 STEPHEN ELLIOTT 091 
 
 CHARLES CALDWELL , . 602 
 
 Sketch of the Rev. James Hall, of North Carolina. 
 
 ' WILLI VM CLIFFTON 604 
 
 Epistle to W. Gitford, Esq., 
 
 To a Robin. 
 
 To Fancy. 
 
 II Penseroso. 
 
 Sonsr. 
 
 A Flight of Fancy. 
 
 WILLIAM RAY 609 
 
 Song. 
 
 JOSIAH QUINCY 009 
 
 JOHN L\THROP 611 
 
 Ode for the Twentieth Anniversary of the Massachu- 
 setts Charitable Fire Society. 
 
 ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER 614 
 
 Natural Scenery seen by the youth and the man. 
 
 WILLIAM WIRT 617 
 
 James Waddell, the Blind Preacher, from " The Bri- 
 tish Spy." 
 
 PAQH 
 
 Eloquence of the Pulpit, from " The Old Bachelor." 
 Jefferson at Monticello, from the "Eulogiuin on 
 
 Adams and Jefferson." 
 Patrick Henry, from the "Sketches." 
 
 JOHN PICKERING 625 
 
 NATHANIEL BOWDITCH 626 
 
 JOHN RANDOLPH 027 
 
 Passages from Speeches. 
 
 DAVID HITCHCOCK ... ... 629 
 
 Passage from " The Shade of Plato." 
 WILLIAM BIGELOW 030 
 
 Receipt to make a Magazine. 
 
 The Cheerful Parson. 
 P.OBERT TREAT PAINE, Ja 632 
 
 From "The Ruling Paision." 
 
 Adams and Liberty. 
 
 ISAAC STORY 634 
 
 Sign Board. 
 
 Ode to Poverty.- 
 
 Peter's Adieu to the City. 
 
 LEONARD WOODS 
 
 WILLIAM SULLIVAN 
 
 Sketch of Hamilton, from the "Familiar Letters." 
 
 EG .... 
 
 630 
 037 
 
 033 
 
 EOBEET GOODLOE n.VRr 
 Passages from Speeches. 
 
 MATIIEW CAREY 040 
 
 WILLIAM MUNFOED 042 
 
 TheGods Mi .g'i g in the Battle, from the twentieth 
 book of the Iliad. . * 
 PAUL ALLEN 043 
 
 The Child of Japhet. 
 
 LYMAN BEECHEE 044 
 
 JOHN HENRY HOBAET 045 
 
 American Principles of Civil Freedom. 
 
 PHILANDER CHASE 040 
 
 Father Nash. 
 
 JOHN J. AUDUBON 050 
 
 Common Mocking-Bird. 
 
 JOHN BLAIR LINN 052 
 
 Passage from " The Powers of Genius." 
 
 HENRY CLAY 054 
 
 From the Speech on the Greek Revolution, Jan. BO, 
 
 1824. 
 Address to Lafayette on his Reception by the House of 
 
 Representatives, Dec. 10, 1S24. 
 From the Valedictory Address to the Scuatc, 1842. 
 
 JOHN SHAW 
 
 A Sleighing Song. 
 
 JOnN BEISTED . . . . . 
 
 WILLIAM AUSTIN 
 
 A Dinner with Godwin, Holeroft, and Wolcot, from 
 the " Letters from London." 
 
 EDWAED LIVINGSTON 
 
 ZEBULON MONTGOMEEY PIKE 
 
 JOEL E. POINSETT 
 
 CLEMENT C. MOORE . 
 A Visit from St. Nicholas. 
 
 F. 8. KEY 
 
 Song. 
 ^•- The Star-Spangled Batmer. 
 Hymn for the Fourth of July. 
 
 AMERICAN ACADEMY OF ARTS 
 
 SIMON GREENLEAF . 
 
 BEVERLEY TUCKER . 
 
 HENRY COLMAN .... 
 
 HENEY LEE 
 
 SAMUEL G. DRAKE 
 
 056 
 
 057 
 058 
 
 039 
 660 
 
 601 
 002 
 
 668 
 
 nENRY M. BEACKENEIDGE 
 
 St. Genevieve on the Mississippi at the close of the 
 last century. 
 
 Notices of the author's father, Judge II. 11. Bracken- 
 ridge. 
 
 Adams and Jefferson. 
 
 FRANCIS GLASS 
 
 PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FRANCE .... 
 Passport Scene at Calais in the days of the Empire. 
 Fete Champetre in a village on a hill at MontruuiL 
 
 001 
 004 
 005 
 066 
 066 
 667 
 60S 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Seal of Harvard College . 
 Portrait of Thomas Hoffis . 
 
 Harvard Hall, 1682 
 Gore Hall .... 
 Autograph of Nathaniel "Ward 
 John Cotton . 
 Thomas Hooker 
 Residence of Thomas Hooker, at 
 
 Hartford .... 
 Autograph of John Winthmp 
 * "William Bradford 
 Roger Williams 
 John Eliot 
 Daniel Gookin 
 Thomas Shepard 
 Roger Clap . 
 Nathaniel Morton 
 A. Bradstreet 
 "William Hubbard 
 Michael Wiggles 
 worth . 
 Portrait and Autograph of Cotton 
 
 Mather .... 
 Autograph of John Williams 
 Portrait of James Logan 
 Autograph of Roger Wolcott 
 Portrait and Autograph of Cad 
 
 wallader Golden 
 Autograph of Thomas Prince 
 William and Mary College . 
 Portrait and Autograph of James 
 
 Blair .... 
 Portrait of Elihu Yale . 
 Yale College . . . * . 
 Yale Library .... 
 Portrait and Autograph of Jona- 
 than Edwards" 
 Birthplace of Franklin. 
 Portrait and Autograph of Benja 
 
 min Frankliu . 
 Portrait, and Autograph of Mather 
 
 Byles .... 
 Autograph of Joseph Green 
 J. Callender . 
 Thos. Hutchinson 
 Rev. John Adams 
 John Winthrop 
 Benjamin Church 
 David Brainerd 
 Portrait and Autograph of Jona- 
 than Mayhew , 
 Autograph of John Woolman 
 S. Hopkins . 
 Samson Occam 
 Portrait and Autograph of Wil 
 
 Ham Livingston 
 Liberty Hall .... 
 Portrait and Autograph of James 
 
 Otis 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of Ezra 
 
 Stiles 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of Mercy 
 
 Warren 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of George 
 
 Berkeley. 
 Whitehall, Berkeley's residence 
 The Philadelphia Library . 
 Autograph of George Washington 
 Portrait and Autograph of John 
 Dickinson .... 
 Pcrtrait and Autograph of John 
 
 Adams 
 
 Autograph of Hugh Williamson . 
 
 PAGE PAGE 
 
 9 Autograph of Samuel Peters . 191 
 
 10 Thomas Godfrey . 195 
 
 11 Portrait and Autograph of Tho- 
 
 15 mas Paine .... 197 
 18 Portrait and Autograph of Ethan 
 
 21 Allen 206 
 
 24 Portrait and Autograph of Fran- 
 cis Hopkinson . . ■ 209 
 24 Autograph of Henry Cruger . 221 
 26 William Bartram . 224 
 30 John Bartram . 224 
 32 Bartram's House .... 225 
 39 The Old South Church ... 230 
 42 Autograph of S. G. Tucker . . 236 
 42 Theodore Bland . 236 
 
 44 Richard Bland . 23T 
 
 45 Portrait and Autograph of Tho- 
 
 47 mas Jefferson . . . * . 239 
 
 56 Autograph of Josiah Quincy, Jr. . 251 
 Portrait and Autograph of Jere- 
 
 57 my Belknap .... 255 
 Portrait and Autograph of Lind- 
 
 59 ley Murray . ■ . . . 260 
 
 70 Autograph of John Jay . . 263 
 77 Portrait and Autograph of Benja- 
 
 T9 min Rush ... . . 265 
 
 Nassau Hall, Princeton . . 273 
 
 80 Portrait and Autograph of John 
 
 81 Witherspooo 277 
 
 82 The Redwood Library ... 286 
 Portrait and Autograph of II. II. 
 
 84 Brackenridge .... 291 
 
 86 Autograph of William White . 8o2 
 
 90 Antiquarian Society Hall, Wor- 
 
 91 cester 303 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of David 
 
 92 ; Ramsay 304 
 
 104 Birthplace of Trumbull . . 3^9 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of John 
 
 107 | Trumbull 310 
 
 I Portrait and Autograph of Lemu- 
 117 el Hopkins . 319 
 120 Autograph of James Madison . 823 
 123 I William Linn . 826 
 130 | Philip Freneau . 82S 
 133 j Portrait and Autograph of Gou- 
 135 I verneur Morris . . . 848 
 138 ! Autograph of Alex. Graydon . 853 
 140 Portrait and Autograph of Timo- 
 thy Dwight .... 857 
 
 145 D wight's House in New Haven, 
 
 146 from an original drawing 359 
 
 150 Portrait of Ann Eliza Bleeeker . SGG 
 
 151 Portrait and Autograph of Phillis 
 
 Wheatley .... 367 
 
 151 Autograph of Benjamin Thomp- 
 
 152 son . ... 372 
 Portrait and Autograph of David 
 
 156 Humphreys .... 374 
 
 ITuinphievsviile, Ct. . . 876 
 
 159 Portrait of Samuel Johnson . 379 
 Portrait and Autograph of Myles 
 
 163 Cooper 880 
 
 Columbia College .... 886 
 
 165 Portrait of WiMam Smith . . 388 
 
 166 The University of Pennsylvania . 890 
 
 178 Portrait and Autograph of Joel 
 
 179 Barlow 392 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of J. Mar- 
 
 181 shall 404 
 
 - Autograph of A. Bancroft . . 407 
 1S5 Portrait and Autograph of Han- 
 
 189 j nah Adams . . 409 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of Ales. 
 
 Hamilton ... 422 
 
 Autograph of Robert Dinsmoor . 465 
 Portrait and Autograph of Fisher 
 
 Ames 469 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of Noah 
 
 Webster 474 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of Noah 
 
 Worcester . . . 479 
 
 Autograph of Geo. R. Minot . 431 
 Portrait and Autograph of Mason 
 
 L. Weems .... 485 
 
 Pohick Church, Va. . . . 4S7 
 
 Autograph of .Jediuiab Morse . 492 
 Portrait and Autograph of Albert 
 
 Gallatin 494 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of R. Al- 
 
 sop ... . . 495 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of James 
 
 Kent . ... 509 
 
 Autograph of St.John Honey wood 514 . 
 Portrait and Autogiaph of Samuel 
 
 L. MitcMll . . *. . 517 
 Portrait of Nicholas Brown . . 525 
 Brown University. . . . 528 
 Portrait of Eleazer W r heelock . 531 
 Dartmouth College ... 532 
 Autograph of Samuel Low . . 533 
 Portiait and Autograph of Wil- 
 liam Dunlap . ... 537 
 Portrait and Autograph of Alex- 
 ander Wilson .... 546 
 Portrait and Autograph of J. Q. 
 
 Adams ..... 558 
 Autograph of T. WE. Harris . . 561 
 Samuel Miller . 569 
 D. Hosack . . 574 
 Frederick Delcho . 575 
 Portrait of David Rittenhou^e . 576 
 Autograph of John M. Mason . 5S1 
 Portrait and Autograph of I. Hop- 
 kinson 5S4 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of C. B. 
 
 Brown 5S8 
 
 Autograph of T. G. Fcssenden . 595 
 Portrait of Elihu If. Smith . . 600 
 Autogiaph of Stephen Elliott . 602 
 Portrait of William Cliffton . 605 
 Autograph of Josiah Quincy . 610 
 Portrait and Autogiaph of Archi- 
 bald Alexander . . . 615 
 Portrait and Autograph of Wil- 
 liam Wirt . . . . 618 
 Autogiaph of Ji hn Pickering 625 
 Nathl Bowdilch . 626 
 John Randolph . 628 
 Portrait and Autograph of Robert 
 
 TicatFaine, Jr. ... 682 
 Portrait and Autograph of Wil- 
 liam Sullivan . . . 687 
 Portrait and Autograph of Ma- 
 
 thew Carey .... 641 
 
 Autograph of P. Allen . . 643 
 
 Philander Chase . 646 
 Portrait and Autograph of John 
 
 J. Audubon .... 650 
 
 Autograph of H. Clay . . 654 
 
 F. S. Key . 663 
 
 B. Tucker . . 665 
 
 Henry Col man . 666 
 
 S. G. Drake . 668 
 
 Portrait and Autograph of n. M. 
 
 Brackenridge . - . . 668 
 
CYCLOPAEDIA 
 
 OF 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 GEOKGE SANDYS. 
 The first English literary production penned in 
 America, at least which has any rank or name 
 in the general history of literature, is the transla- 
 tion of Ovid's Metamorphoses, by George Sandys, 
 printed in folio in London in 1626. The writer 
 was the distinguished traveller, whose book on 
 the countries of the Mediterranean and the Holy 
 Land, is still perused with interest by curious 
 readers. It was some time after his return from 
 the East, that he was employed in the govern- 
 ment of the Colony in Virginia, where he held 
 the post of treasurer of the company. There, on 
 the banks of James river, he translated Ovid, 
 under circumstances of which he has left a me- 
 morial in his dedication of the work to King 
 Charles I., as he informs that monarch his poem 
 was " limned by that imperfect light, which was 
 snatched from the hours of night and repose. 
 For the day was not his own, but dedicated to 
 the service of his father and himself; and had 
 that service proved as fortunate, as it was faith- 
 ful in him, as well as others more worthy, they 
 had hoped, before the revolution of many years, 
 to have presented his majesty with a rich and 
 well peopled kingdom. But, as things had turned, 
 he had only been able to bring from thence him- 
 self and that composition, which needed more 
 than a single denization. For it was doubly a 
 stranger, being sprung from an ancient Roman 
 stock, and bred up in the N"ew World, of the 
 rudeness whereof it could not but participate ; 
 especially as it was produced among wars and 
 tumults ; instead of under the kindly and peaceful 
 influences of the muses."* 
 
 Sandy3 was a gentleman of a good stock, his 
 father being the Archbishop of York, and the 
 friend of Hooker, by whom his brother Edwin 
 was educated. His piety is expressed in his 
 
 * Stith, Hist, of Va., Bk. v. He has slightly adapted the 
 language of Sandys's preface to Ovid. 
 VOL. I. — 1 
 
 "Review of God's Mercies to him in his travels," 
 an eloquent poem which he wrote in welcoming 
 his beloved England, and in which he does not 
 forget the perils of the American wilderness in 
 
 That new-found-out-world, where sober night 
 Takes from the Antipodes her silent flight, 
 
 and where he had been preserved 
 
 From the bloody massacres 
 Of faithless Indians ; from their treacherous wars. 
 
 As a poet he has gained the respect of Bryden, 
 who pronounced him the best versifier of his age, 
 and of Pope, who commended his verses, in his 
 notes to the Iliad.* We may quote a few lines 
 of his Ovid, as a pleasing memorial of this classic 
 theme pursued amidst the perils and trials of the 
 early colonial settlement. We may fancy him 
 looking round him, as he wrote, upon the rough 
 materials of the Golden Age of Virginia, testing 
 Ovid's poetical dreams by the realities. 
 
 METAMORPHOSIS, BOOK I. 
 
 The Golden Age was first; which uneompeld, 
 And without rule, in faith and truth exceld, 
 As then, there was nor punishment nor fear ; 
 Nor threatning laws in brass prescribed were ; 
 Nor suppliant crouching prisoners shook to see 
 Their angrie judge. * * * * 
 
 In firm content 
 And harmless ease, their happy days were spent. 
 The yet-free Earth did of her own accord 
 (Untorn with ploughs) all sorts of fruit afford. 
 Content with nature's unenforced food, 
 They gather wildings, straw'bries of the wood, 
 Sour cornels, what upon the bramble grows, 
 And acorns which Jove's spreading oak bestows. 
 'Twas always Spring ; warm Zephyrus sweetly 
 
 blew 
 On smiling flowers, which without setting grew. 
 
 * Holmes, Am. Annals, i. 184. Egertnn Brydges, Censora 
 Literaria, vi. 135. Bancroft, History United States, i. 284. 
 There is a copy of the Ovid ex dono T?iomai BoUlt m the Har- 
 vard Library. 
 
CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Forthwith the earth, corn unmanured bears ; 
 And every year renews her golden ears : 
 With milk and nectar were the rivers fill'd ; 
 And yellow honey from green elms distilled 
 
 ■WILLIAM VAUGHAN. 
 
 At about the same time with Sand3's in Virginia, 
 William Vaughan, a poet and physician from 
 Wales, took up his residence on a district of land 
 which he had purchased in Newfoundland. Here 
 he established a plantation, which he called Cam- 
 briol, and to invite settlers from England, senthorne 
 and published his Gobien Fleece^* a quaint tract 
 in prose and verse, intended through the medium 
 of satire and fancy to set forth the discourage- 
 ments of England and the encouragements of 
 America. In his dedication of the work to King 
 Charles, the author, who wrote also several other 
 poems in Latin and English, calls himself Or- 
 pheus Jr. " Were it not," says Oldmixon, " a 
 trouble one might remark, that neither the vicar's 
 lion, nor the pilot's mermaid, is more a prodigy, 
 than an Orpheus in Newfoundland, though there 
 was one actually there, if the poet Vaughan was 
 so.'"t 
 
 The Golden Fleece, which is now a very rare 
 book, is a curious composition of the puritan way 
 of thinking engrafted on the old classic machinery 
 of Apollo and bis court. It has sense, shrewdness, 
 some poetry, and mucb downright railing, — the 
 last in a school, the satirical objurgatory, which 
 was brought to perfection, or carried to excess, in 
 Ward's Simple Cobler of Agawam. Vaughan 
 vents his humors in a depreciaticn of the times, in 
 a kind of parody of the Litany, which he puts 
 into the mouth of Florio, the Italian novelist, then 
 in vogue. 
 
 From blaspheming of God's name, 
 From recanting words with shame, 
 From damnation eternal, 
 From a rich soul internal, 
 From a sinner will not mend, 
 From a friend, that will not lend, 
 From all modern abuses, 
 From much things to no uses, 
 From Ignatian's cursed swords, 
 From an Alchymist's fair words, 
 From those Friars which cloaks use, 
 As from such that haunt the stews, 
 From such sius as do delight us, 
 As from dreams which do affright us, 
 From parasites that stroke us, 
 From morsels that will choke us, 
 From false sycophants, that soothe us, 
 As from those in sin do smooth us, 
 From all profane discourses, 
 From all ungodly courses 
 
 Sweet angel free 
 
 deliver me. 
 
 Some of Vaughan's descriptions, as in his ac- 
 count of the fairer sex, smack strongly of old 
 Burton, whose Anatomy of Melancholy was then 
 in its first popularity. In the third part of the 
 
 * The Golden Fleece, divided Into three parts, under which 
 are discovered the errors of religion, the vices and decay of the 
 kingdom, and, lastly, the way to get wealth and to restore trad- 
 ing, so much complained of. Transported from Cambrioll Col- 
 chos, ont of the southernmost part of the Island, commonly 
 called the Newfoundland, bv Orpheus .Tnnior. for the general 
 and perpetual good of Great Britain. 1626. Small 4to. 
 
 t Oldiaixon. Brit Emp. in Am. i. 8. 
 
 Golden Fleece there is a commendation of New- 
 foundland and its bounteous fishery, with many 
 allusions to historical incidents of the period. 
 
 Vaughan's Church Militant published many 
 years subsequently, in 1640, is one of those long 
 labored historical deductions in crabbed verse, 
 which Puritan writers loved heavily to trudge 
 through. When the weary journey is accom- 
 plished, the muse, as if exulting at the termina- 
 tion, rises to a somewhat clearer note, in good 
 strong Saxon, in view of the English reformation. 
 
 The spouse of Christ shone in her prime, 
 
 When she liv'd near th' Apostles' time, 
 
 But afterwards eclips'd of light, 
 
 She lay obscure from most men's sight ; 
 
 For while her watch hugg'd carnal ease, 
 
 And loath'd the cross, she felt disease. 
 
 Because they did God's rays contemn, 
 
 And maumets* served, Grace fled from them. 
 
 Then stars fell down, fiends blackt the air, 
 
 And mongrels held the Church's chair, 
 
 But now dispelling error's night, 
 
 By Christ his might, our new-man's light, 
 
 She may compare for faith alike 
 
 With famous Rome's first Catholic, 
 
 And paragons for virtue bright 
 
 The royal scribe's sweet Sulamite, 
 
 Who train'd to zeal, yet without traps, 
 
 Her poor young sister wanting paps; 
 
 Without traditions she train'd her, 
 
 Or quillets, which make souls to err. 
 
 So feeds our Church her tender brood 
 
 With milk, the strong with stronger foo'. 
 
 She doth contend in grace to thrive, 
 
 Reproved like the primitive. 
 
 She hates the dark, yet walks the round, 
 
 And joys to hear the Gospel's sound. 
 
 She hates their mind in judgment blind, 
 
 Who swell with merits out of kind. 
 
 In Christ alone lies all her hope, 
 
 Not craving help of saint or Pope. 
 
 Poor saints, to show her faith by deeds, 
 
 She fills their souls, their bodies feeds. 
 
 She grants no weapons for offence, 
 
 Save vows and fasting for defence ; 
 
 And yet she strikes. But with what sword ? 
 
 The spirit's sword, God's lightning word. 
 
 Indiff 'rent toys and childish slips 
 
 She slights, but checks gross sins with stripes. 
 
 Yet soon the strays her favor win, 
 
 When they repent them of the sin, 
 
 So mild is she, still loathing ill, 
 
 And yet most loathe the soul to kilL 
 
 Such is the Lady, whom I serve ; 
 Her goodness such, whom I observe, 
 And for whose love I beg'd these lays 
 Borne from the spheres with flaming ray3. 
 
 WILLIAM MOEELL. 
 
 William Mop.ell, an English clergyman of the 
 Established Church, came to America in 1623, 
 with the company sent out by the Plymouth coun- 
 cil, under the command of Captain Robert, son 
 of Sir Ferdinando Gorges. Morell bore a com- 
 mission from the Ecclesiastical Court in England 
 to exercise a superintendence over the churches 
 which were or might be established in the colony. 
 The attempt by this company to form a settle- 
 
 * Idols ; the word is used for puppets by Shakespeare. I 
 Henry IV., Act 2, Scene 8. 
 
WILLIAM HORELL; WILLIAM WOOD. 
 
 3 
 
 ment at Wessagussett, now Weymouth, in Massa- 
 chusetts, was unsuccessful. After Gorges's re- 
 turn, Morell remained a year at Plymouth and 
 then returned to England, where he soon after 
 published in Latin hexameters and English hero- 
 ics, the latter a little rough, his poem Nova 
 Anglia, which he addressed to King Charles I. 
 It is mainly taken up with the animal inhabitants 
 of the land and their conquerors, the native In- 
 dians. The opening address to New England is 
 really grand. We have marked one line by italics, 
 for its stirring tone, in the English portion, which 
 is something more than a mere literal version of 
 his Latin. We give both. 
 
 NOVA ANGLIA. 
 
 Hacteim9 ignotara populi3 ego carmine primus, 
 Te Nova, de veteri cui eontigit Anglia nomen, 
 Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva. 
 Per milii numen opem, eupienti singula plectro 
 Pondere veridieo, quse nuper vidimus ipsi : 
 Ut breviter vereque sonent modulamina nostra, 
 Tetnperiem ceeli, vim terrce, munera ponti, 
 Et varios gentis mores, velamina, eultus. 
 Anglia felici nierito Nova nomine gaudens, 
 Saevos nativi mores pertresa Coloni, 
 Imligiii penitiis populi tellure feraci, 
 Mcesta superfusis attollit fletibus ora, 
 Antiquos precibus flectens ardentibus Anglos, 
 Numiuis seterni felicem lumine gentem 
 Efiieere : seternis qua? nunc peritura tenebris. 
 Gratum opus hoc lmlis, diguumque piis opus Anglis, 
 Angelica? quibus est natune nomen in umbra 
 Ccelica ut extremis dispergant semina terris. 
 
 NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 Fear not, poor Muse, 'cause first to sing her fame 
 That's yet scarce known, unless by map or name ; 
 A grandchild to earth's paradise is born, 
 Well litnb'd, well nerv'd, fair, rich, sweet, yet for- 
 lorn. 
 Thou blest director, so direct my verse 
 That it may win her people, friends commerce. 
 Whilst her sweet air, rich soil, blest seas, my pen 
 Shall blaze and tell the natures of her men. 
 New England, happy in her new, true style, 
 Weary of her cause she's to sad exile 
 Exposed by her's unworthy of her land ; 
 Entreats with tears Great Britain to command 
 Her empire, and to make her know the time, 
 Whose act and knowledge only makes divine. 
 A royal work well worthy England's king, 
 These natives to true truth and grace to bring ; 
 A noble work for all these noble peers, 
 Which guide this state in their superior spheres. 
 Tou holy Aarons, let your censers ne'er 
 Cease burning till these men Jehovah fear. 
 
 This curious poem is conducted with consider- 
 able spirit. There is this allusion to the Indian 
 song: 
 
 Litera cuncta licet latet hos, modulamina quondam 
 Fistula disparibus calamis facit, est et agrestis 
 Musica vocis iis, minime jucunda, sonoris 
 Obtusisque sonis oblectans pectora, sensus, 
 Atque suas aures, artis 6ublimis inanes. 
 
 And though these men no letters know, yet their 
 Pan's harsher numbers we may somewhere hear ; 
 And vocal odes which us affect with grief, 
 Though to their minds perchance they give relief.* 
 
 * The whole poem is reprinted In the Mass. Hist Soc. 
 Collections, First Series, i. 125-39. 
 
 •» 
 
 WILLIAM WOOD. 
 CnEEEFDL William Wood was at that period a 
 sojourner in the same colony. Returning home 
 in 1633, he published in London, in 1634, the 
 first printed account of Massachusetts in New 
 England's Prospect being, as its title page well 
 describes it, "a true, lively, and experimental de- 
 scription."* "I have laid down," says he, "the 
 nature of the country, without any partial respect 
 unto it as being my dwelling-place, where I have 
 lived these four years, and intend, God willing, to 
 return shortly again." 
 
 This tract is divided into two parts, the one 
 treating of the situation and circumstances of the 
 colonists ; the other, of the manners and customs 
 of the native Indians. In the former, in which, 
 the writer notices the towns bordering the site of 
 Boston, venturing in one or two instances as far 
 as Agawam and Merrimack, there are some 
 curious poetical or rhyming natural history de- 
 scriptions interspersed, as of the trees, which 
 reminds us, in a degree, of the famous passage in 
 Spenser, by whose inspiration it was probably 
 excited : — 
 
 Trees both in hills and plains, in plenty be, 
 
 The long-liv'd oak, and mournful cypris tree, 
 
 Sky-tow'ring pines, and chesnuts coated rough. 
 
 The lasting cedar, with the walnut tough : 
 
 The rosin-dropping fir for mast9 in use, 
 
 The boatmen seek for oares light, neat, growne 
 
 sprewse, 
 The brittle ash, the ever-trembling aspes, 
 The broad-spread elm, whose concave harbours 
 
 wasps, 
 The water-spungie alder good for nought, 
 Small elderue by th' Indian fletchersf sought, 
 The knottie maples, pallid birch, hawthornes, 
 The home-bound tree that to be cloven scornes; 
 Which from the tender vine oft takes his spouBe, 
 Who twines embracing arms about his boughs. 
 Within this Indian orchard fruits be some, 
 The ruddie cherrie, and the jetty plume, 
 Snake-murthering hazell, with sweet saxaphrage, 
 Whose spumes in beere allays hot fever's rage. 
 The dyer's shumach, with more trees there be, 
 That are both good to use and rare to see. 
 
 His versifying talent is also excited by the in- 
 habitants of these woods : — 
 
 The kingly lion, and the strong-arm'd bear, 
 The large limb'd mooses, with the tripping deer ; 
 Quill-darting porcupines, and raccoons be 
 Castel'd in the hollow of an aged tree. 
 
 There is fancj' in the last picture, as there is 
 in his "sea-shouldering whale," in the chapter 
 "of fish" — but that belongs to Spenser. The 
 whole passage is curious, and is worth quoting 
 for its American flavor. The epithets are felici- 
 tous. He had evidently studied the subject. 
 
 The king of waters, the sea-shouldering whale, 
 The snuffing grampus, with the oily seal; 
 
 * New England's Prospect: a troe, lively, and experimental 
 description of that part of America commonly called New 
 England — discovering the state of that country, both as it 
 stands to our new come English planters, and to the old 
 native inhabitants — laying down that which may both enrich 
 the knowledge of the mind-travelling reader, or benefit the 
 future voyager. By William Wood. London: 1635. 
 
 t Makers of bows and arrows. — Johnson. 
 
CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The storm-presaging porpus, herring-hog, 
 Live speariug-shark, the catfish, and sea-dog; 
 The scale-feue'd sturgeon, wry-mouthed halibut, 
 The flouncing salmon, codfish, greedigut; 
 Cole, haddick, hake, the thornback, and the scate, 
 Whose slimy outside makes him seld' in date; 
 The stately bass, old Neptune's fleeting post, 
 That tides it out and in from sea to coast ; 
 Consorting herrings, and the bony shad, 
 Big-bellied alewives, mackrels richly clad 
 "With rainbow colour, the frostfish and the Bmelt 
 As good as ever Lady Gustus felt ; 
 The spotted lamprons, eels, the lamperies, 
 That seek fresh water brooks with Argus eyes; 
 Those watery villagers, with thousands more, 
 Do pass and repass near the verdant shore. 
 
 KINDS OP SHELLFISH. 
 
 The luscious lobster, with the crabfish raw, 
 
 The brinish oyster, muscel, periwig, 
 And tortoise sought by the Indian's squaw, 
 
 Which to the flats dance many a winter's jig, 
 To dive for cockles, and to dig for clams, 
 Whereby her lazy husband's guts she crams. 
 
 His prose shows us little of the poetical and 
 humorous traits common to many of these early 
 narratives. There is a short chapter touching 
 the Indians, which would do honor to the appe- 
 tizing courtesies of John Buncle. 
 
 of their diet, cookep.y, meal times, and hospitality at 
 ilifal: kettles. 
 
 Having done with the most needful clothings and 
 ornamental deckings ; may it please you to feast your 
 eyes with their best belly-timbers ; which I suppose 
 would be but stibium to weak stomachs, as they 
 cook it, tho' never so good of itself. In winter time 
 they have all manner of fowls of the water and of 
 the land, and beasts of the land and water, pond 
 fish, with catharres and other roots, Indian beans 
 and clams. In the summer they have all maimer of 
 sea fish, with all sorts of berries. For the ordering 
 of their victuals, they boil or roast them, having 
 large kettles which they traded for with the French 
 long since, and do still buy of the English as their 
 need requires, before they had substantial earthen 
 pots of their own making. Their spits are no other 
 than cloven sticks snarped at one end to thrust into 
 the ground : into these cloven sticks they thrust the 
 flesh or fish they would have roasted, behemming a 
 round fire with a dozen of spits at a time, turning 
 them as they see occasion. Some of their scullery 
 having dressed these homely cates, present it to 
 their guests, dishing it up in a rude manner, placing 
 it on the verdant carpet of the earth which Nature 
 spreads them, without either trenchers, napkins, or 
 knives ; upon which their hunger sauced stomachs, 
 impatient of delays fall aboard, without scrupling 
 at unwashed hands, without bread, salt, or beer; 
 lolling on the Turkish fashion, not ceasing till their 
 full bellies leave nothing but empty platters. They 
 seldom or never make bread of their Indian corn, but 
 seeth it whole like beans, eating three or four corns 
 with a mouthful of fish or flesh, sometimes eating 
 meat first, and corns after, filling up the chinks with 
 their broth. In summer, when their corn is spent, 
 isquoterquashes is their best bread, a fruit much like 
 a pumpion. To say, and to speak paradoxically, 
 they be great eaters, and little meat men. When 
 they visit our English, being invited to eat, they are 
 very moderate, whether it be to show their manners, 
 or for shame fae'dness, I know not, but at home they 
 eat till their bellies stand south, ready to split with 
 fulness ; it being their fashion to eat all at sometimes, 
 
 and sometimes nothing at all in two or three days, 
 wise providence being a stranger to their wilder 
 ways: They be right infidels; neither caring for 
 the morrow, or providing for their own families ; 
 but as all are fellows at football, so they all meet 
 friends at the kettle, saving their wives, that dance 
 a spaniel-like attendance at their backs for their bony 
 fragments. If their imperious occasions cause them 
 to travel, the best of their victuals for their journey 
 is Nocake (as they call it), which is nothing but 
 Indian corn parched in the hot ashes; the ashes 
 being sifted from it, it is afterwards beat to powder, 
 and put into a long leathern bag, trussed at their 
 backs like a knapsack, out of which they take thrice 
 three spoonfuls a day dividing it into three meals. 
 If it be in winter, and snow be on the ground, they 
 can eat when they please, stopping snow after their 
 dusty victuals, which otherwise would feed them 
 little better than a Tyburn halter. In summer they 
 must stay till they meet with a spring or a brook, 
 where they may have water to prevent the imminent 
 danger of choking. With this strange viaticum they 
 will travel four or five days together, with loads 
 fitter for elephants than men. But though they can 
 fare so hardly abroad, their chaps must walk night 
 and day, as long as they have it. They keep no set 
 meals, their store being spent, they champ on the 
 bit, till they meet with fresh supplies, either from 
 their own endeavors, or their wives' industry, who 
 trudge to the clam-banks when all other means fail. 
 Though they be sometimes scanted, yet are they as 
 free as emperors, both to their countrymen and 
 English, be he stranger or near acquaintance; count- 
 ing it a great discourtesy not to eat of their high- 
 conceited delicacies, and sup of their un-oatmeal'd 
 broth, made thick with fishes, fowls, and beasts, 
 boiled all together ; some remaining raw, the rest 
 converted, by overmuch seething, to a loathed mash, 
 not half so good as Irish bonuiclapper. 
 
 GOOD NEWS FROM NEW ENGLAND. 
 A curious tract, apparently written by a resident in 
 the colony, was printed in London, in 1648, bear- 
 ing the title, Good News from New England* It 
 is more than half in verse, and is a quaint picture 
 of the age. The sketch of the clergy is charac- 
 teristic. AVe quote a few paragraphs. 
 
 Oh ! wee'l away, now say the poore, our Benefactor's 
 
 going, 
 That fild our children's mouths with bread, look I 
 
 yonder are they rowing. 
 O woe is me, another cries, my Minister, it's he, 
 As sure as may be, yonder he from Pursevant doth 
 
 flee. 
 With trickling tears, scarce uttering speech, another 
 
 sobbing says, 
 If our poor preacher shipped be, he'll ne'er live half 
 
 the way. 
 
 THE NEW ENGLAND FEEACHEES. 
 
 One unto reading Scriptures men persuades, 
 One labour bids for food that never fades. 
 One to redeem their time exborteth all, 
 One looking round for wary walking calls. 
 One he persuades men buy the truth, not sell, 
 One would men should in moderateness excell. 
 
 * Good News from New England : with an Exact Relation 
 of the First Planting of that Country ; a Description of the 
 Profits accruing by the Work ; together with a brief, but true 
 Discovery of their Order both in Church and Commonwealth, 
 and Maintenance allowed the painful Labourers in that Vine- 
 yard of the Lord ; with the Names of the several Towns, and 
 who be Preachers to them. London : printed by Matthew 
 Simmons, 164S; reprinted in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Fourth 
 Series, i. 195. 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
 One for renewed repentance daily strives, 
 One's for a conscience clear in all men's lives. 
 One he exhorts all men God's word to hear, 
 One doth beseech to lend obedient ear. 
 One he desires evil's appearance shun, 
 One with diligence would all should be done. 
 One shows their woe that will not God believe, 
 One doth beseech God's spirit they'll not grieve. 
 One wishes none to deep despair do run, 
 One bids beware none to presumption come. 
 One wills that all at murmuring take heed, 
 One shews that strife and envy should not breed. 
 One shews the hatred God to pride doth bear, 
 One covetousness cries down with hellish fear. 
 One to lukewarmness wishes none do grow, 
 One none for fear forsake the truth they know. 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 The renowned Captain John Smith, on returning 
 home from service against the Turks, and from a 
 journey in which he had well nigh exhausted all 
 that Europe could offer of adventure, and fully 
 proved the nobility of his nature, at the early 
 age of twenty-seven turned his attention to the 
 new world. 
 
 In December, 1606, he sailed with others sent out 
 by the London Company, recently formed by his 
 exertions, for the Chesapeake. On the 13th of May 
 the party landed at Jamestown. He returned to 
 England in 1609, and in 1614- explored the Ame- 
 rican coast from the Penobscot to Cape Cod. He 
 again sailed in 1615, but was taken prisoner and 
 confined in France. On his release he endeavored 
 to obtain further employment in American adven- 
 ture, but without success. He died in London in 
 1631, in his fifty-second year. 
 
 In " the true Travels, Adventures, and Obser- 
 vations of Capt. John Smith," 1629, he gives the 
 following summary of his American career. 
 
 Now to conclude the travels and adventures of 
 Captain Smith: How first he planted Virginia, and 
 was set ashore with a hundred men in the wild woods , 
 how he was taken prisoner by the savages, and by 
 the King of Pamaunky tied to a tree to be shot to 
 death ; led up and down their country, to be shown 
 for a wonder ; fatted as he thought for a sacrifice to 
 their idol, before whom they conjured three days, 
 with strange dances and invocations ; then brought 
 before their Emperor Powhattan, who commanded 
 him to be slain ; how his daughter Pocahontas saved 
 his life, returned him to Jamestown, relieved him 
 and his famislie 1 company, which was but eight and 
 thirty, to possess those large dominions; how he 
 discovered all the several nations on the rivers falling 
 into the bay of Chesapeake ; how he was stung al- 
 most to death by the poisonous tail of a fish called 
 a stingray ; how he was blown up with gunpowder, 
 and returned to England to be cured. 
 
 Also how he brought New England to the subjec- 
 tion of the Kingdom of Great Britain : his fights 
 with the pirates, left alone among the French men- 
 of-war, and his ship ran from him : his sea-fights for 
 the French against the Spaniards ; their bad usage 
 of him; how in Frauce, in a little boat, he escaped 
 them: was adrift all such a stormy night at sea by 
 himself, when thirteen French ships were split or 
 driven on shore by the isle of Rhu, the General and 
 most of his men drowned ; when God, to whom be 
 all honour and praise, brought him safe on shore, to 
 the admiration of all who escaped ; you may read 
 at large in his general history of Virginia, the Somer 
 islands and New England. 
 
 Smith derived no pecuniary advantage from his 
 services in the colonization of Virginia or New 
 England. "In neither of these two countries," 
 he remarks, " have I one foot of land, nor the 
 very house I builded, nor the ground I digged 
 with my own hands, nor any content or satisfac- 
 tion at all." 
 
 Captain Smith was the author of several works 
 relating to his adventurous life. The first is A 
 true relation of such occurrences and accidents of 
 noate as hath hapned in Virginia since the first 
 planting of that colony, which is noio resident in 
 the south part thereof till the last return from 
 thence. Written by Th. Watson, Gent, one of the 
 said collony, to a worshipful friend of his in 
 England. London : 1608. This tract, of forty- 
 two small quarto pages, is printed in black letter, 
 and is extremely rare. A copy is in the library 
 of the New York Historical Society — from which 
 a reprint was made in the Southern Literary Mes- 
 senger. In a preface signed I. H., the statement 
 that " some of the books were printed under the 
 name of Thomas Watson, by whose occasion I 
 know not, unless it were the over-rashness or mis- 
 taking of the workmen, hut since having learned 
 that the said discourse was written by Captain 
 Smith, &c.," — settles the question of authorship. 
 
 In 1612, Smith published A Map of Vir- 
 ginia, — With a description of the country, the 
 commodities, people, government and religion. 
 Written by Captain Smith, sometime Governor 
 of the country. It was accompanied by aa 
 account of "the proceedings of those colonies 
 since their first departure from England, with the 
 discourses, orations and relations of the salvages, 
 and the accidents that befel them in all their jour- 
 neys and discoveries, &c, by W. S." 
 
 This was followed by A Description of New 
 England : or the Observations and Discoveries of 
 Captain John Smith (Admirall of that Country), 
 in the North of America, in the year of our Lord 
 1614, with the successe of size ships that went the 
 next year, 1615; and the accidents befell him 
 among the French men ofwarre : with the proofe 
 of the present benefit this countrey affords: 
 whither this present yeare, 1616, eight voluntary 
 ships are gone to make further trials. At Lon- 
 don. Printed, &c. : 1616. It is reprinted in the 
 sixth volume of the third series of the Massachu- 
 setts Historical Society's Collections, and in the 
 second volume of Col. Force's reprints of rare 
 tracts relating to America, where it is accompa- 
 nied by its successor: New England's Trials. 
 Declaring the successe of 80 ships employed 
 thither within these eight years ; and the benefit 
 of that country by Sea and Land. With the 
 present estate of that happie plantation, begun 
 but by 60 weake men in the yeare 1620. And 
 how to build a Fleete of good Shippes to make a 
 little Navie Roy all. Written by Captain John 
 Smith, sometime Governour of Virginia, and 
 Admirall of New England. The second edition. 
 London: 1622. These two tracts form seventy 
 octavo pages in Mr. Force's reprint. The first 
 edition of New England's Trials, Declaring the 
 success of 26 Ships, &c, appeared in 1620. 
 
 In 1626, the Captain issued his largest work, 
 a folio, entitled The General History of Vir- 
 ginia, New England, and the Summer Jsles, with 
 the names of the adventurers, planters and gover- 
 
6 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 nors, from their first beginning An. 1584, to this 
 present 1626. With the proceedings of those seve- 
 ral colonies, and the accidents that befell them in 
 all their journies and discoveries. Also the map, 
 and descriptions of all those country es, their com- 
 modities, people, government, customs, and religion 
 yet known. It was prepared at the request of the 
 company in London, and contains several portraits 
 and maps. A portion only, including the second 
 and sixth books, is from the pen of Smith, and in 
 these he has drawn largely on his previous publica- 
 tions; the remaining four are made up from the 
 relations of others. The whole, with the con- 
 tinuation to the year 1629, subsequently published 
 by Smith, was reprinted at Richmond, Va., in 
 1819, in two vols. 8vo. 
 
 We extract from this work the account of the 
 famous action of Pocahontas on account of its his- 
 torical value. The chapter from which it is taken 
 (the second of the third book), is stated to be 
 " written by Thomas Stjjflley the first Cape Mer- 
 chant in Virginia, Robert Fenton, Edward Har- 
 rington, and I. S.," so that it is probably from the 
 pen of Smith. 
 
 At last they brought him to Meronoco moco, 
 where was Powhatan their emperor. Here more 
 than two hundred of those grim courtiers stood 
 wondering at him as he had been a monster: till 
 Powhatan and his train had put themselves in their 
 greatest braveries. Before a fire, upon a seat like a 
 bedstead, he sat covered with a great robe, made of 
 Rarovxun skins, and all the tails hanging by. On 
 either hand did sit a young wench of 16 or 18 years, 
 and along on each side of the house, two rows of 
 men, and behind them as many women, with all 
 their heads and shoulders painted led; many of 
 their heads bedecked with the white down of birds; 
 but every one with something: and a great chain of 
 white beads about their necks. At his entrance be- 
 fore the king, all the people gave a great shout. 
 The queen of Appamatuck was appointed to bring 
 him water to wash his hands, and another brought 
 him a bunch of feathers, instead of a towel to dry 
 them : having feasted him after their best barbarous 
 manner they could, a long consultation was held, but 
 the conclusion was, two great stones were brought 
 before Powhatan ; then as many as could laid hand 
 on him, dragged him to them, and thereon laid his 
 head, and being ready with their clubs to beat out 
 his brains, Pocahontas the King's dearest daughter, 
 when no entreaty could prevail, got his head in her 
 arms, and laid her own upon his to save him from 
 death: whereat the emperor was contented he should 
 live to make him hatchets, and her bells, beads, and 
 copper : for they thought him as well of all occupa- 
 tionsas themselves. Forthe King himself will make 
 his own robes, shoes, bows, arrows, pots ; plant, hunt, 
 or do anything so well as the rest. 
 
 They say he bore a pleasant show, 
 But sure his heart was sad, 
 For who can pleasant be, and rest, 
 That lives in fear and dread: 
 And having life suspected, doth 
 It still suspected lead. 
 
 In the same year he published a work for the 
 general benefit of mariners and landsmen entitled 
 An Accidence, or the Pathway to Experience, 
 necessary for all young Seamen; which was fol- 
 lowed in 1627, by A Sea Grammar, with the 
 plalne Exposition of Smith's Accidence for young 
 Seamen, enlarged. In his own words it "found 
 
 good entertainment abroad." A second edition 
 appeared in 1653, and a third in 1692.* 
 
 In 1630, appeared the o True Travels, Adven- 
 tures, and Observations of Capt. John Smith in 
 Europe, Asia, Africa and America, from A.D. 
 1593 to 1629. Together with a continuation of 
 his general history of Virginia, &c. Folio. Lon- 
 don: 1680. It was reprinted with his history at 
 Richmond. It also forms part of Churchill's Col- 
 lection of Voyages. 
 
 In the dedication to the volume he states that 
 Sir Robert Cotton, " that most learned treasurer of 
 antiquity, having by perusal of my general his- 
 tory, and others, found that I had likewise under- 
 gone other as hard hazards in the other parts of 
 the world, requested me to fix the whole course 
 of my passages in a book by itself, whose noble 
 desire I could not but in part satisfy: the rather 
 because they have acted my fatal tragedies upon 
 the stage, and racked my relations at their plea- 
 sure. 1 ^ 
 
 His last work appeared in 1631, and is entitled, 
 Advertisements for the unexperienced Planters 
 of New England, or anywhere ; or, the Pathway 
 to experie)ice to erect a plantation. With the 
 yearely proceedings of the country in Fishing and 
 Planting, since the year 1614 to the year 1630, 
 and their present estate. Also how to prevent the 
 greatest inconveniences, by their proceedings in 
 Virginia, and other Plantations, by approved 
 examples. With the Countries Arms, a descrip- 
 tion of the Coast, Harbours, Habitations, Land- 
 marks, Latitude and Longitude : with the Map, 
 allowed by our Royall King Charles — by Captain 
 John Smith. London: Printed, etc. 1631. It 
 occupies fifty-three pages in the reprint in the 
 Mass. Hist. Coll. 3d Series, vol. 3, and contains on 
 the back of the address to the reader, the poem, 
 " The Sea Marke." 
 
 In a passage in this tract (p. 36), he refers to 
 a History of the Sea on which he was engaged, 
 but his death in the same year put an end to this, 
 
 * George S. Hillard's Life of Captain Smith, in Sparks' s Ame- 
 rican Biography, 1st Series, ii. 4i 5. 
 
 t A similar complaint of " the licentious vaine of stage 
 poets" is made in the " Epistle Dedicatorie" to a tract, Tlif- New 
 Life of Virginia, published in 1612. The American Planta- 
 tions soon became an occasional topic of allusion with Middle- 
 ton, Dekker, and others. Robert Taylor's play of the " Hog 
 hath lost his Pearl,* in 1612, has a mention of the indifferent 
 progress of "the plantation in Virginia.' 1 Shakespeare was 
 too early for the subject. The word America is mentioned 
 only once in his plays, and that not very complimeiitarily, in 
 Dromio's comic description of the kitchen maid. The "still 
 vexed Bermoothes'' was the nearest approach he made to the 
 "Western continent. Had Sir Philip Sidney made the voyago 
 to America which he contemplated, his pen would doubtless 
 have given a tinge of poetry to its woods and Indians. Ra- 
 leigh s name is connected with the Virginia voyages, but he 
 never landed within the present limits of the "United States. 
 Lord Bacon had the "Plantations'" in view, in his Essay bear- 
 ing that name, and in another "of Prophecies" calls attention 
 to the verses of Seneca — 
 
 Venient annis 
 
 Secnla seris, <;uibus Ocean us 
 
 Vineula reruin laxet, et ingens 
 
 Patent tellus, Tiphysque novos 
 
 Detegat orbes ; nee sit terris 
 
 Ultima Thule : 
 
 as "a prophecie of the Discovery of America." 
 
 Milton's fine imagery connected with the fall of otir first 
 parents, " their guilt and dreaded shame," will be called to 
 mind : — 
 
 O how unlike 
 To that first naked glory ! Such of late 
 Columbus found the Amerieau, so girt 
 With feather'd cincture ; naked else and wild 
 Among the trees on isles and woody shores. 
 
HARRIOT ; WHITAKEE ; STRACHEY. 
 
 and probably other projects of his ever active 
 mind. 
 
 Captain Smith wrote with a view to furnish 
 information rather than to gain the reputation of 
 an author or scholar. He confines himself to the 
 subject matter in hand, seldom digressing into 
 comment or reflection. His descriptions are ani- 
 mated, and his style clear and simple. The fol- 
 lowing verses, the only ones, with the exception 
 of a few scattered lines in his History of Virginia, 
 which can be attributed to his pen, show that he 
 has some claim to the title of a poet. They 
 possess a rude, simple melody, not inharmonious 
 with their subject. 
 
 THE SEA MARK. 
 
 Aloof, aloof, and come no near, 
 
 The dangers do appear 
 
 Which, if my ruin had not been, 
 
 You had not seen : 
 
 I only lie upon this shelf 
 
 To be a mark to all 
 
 Which on the same may fall. 
 That none may perish but myself 
 
 If in our outward you be bound 
 
 Do not forget to sound ; 
 
 Neglect of that was caused of this 
 
 To steer amiss. 
 
 The seas were calm, the wind was fair, 
 
 That made me so secure, 
 
 That now I must endure 
 All weathers, be they foul or fair. 
 
 The winter's cold, the summer's heat 
 
 Alternatively beat 
 
 Upon my bruised sides, that rue. 
 
 Because too true, 
 
 That no relief can ever come; 
 
 But why should I despair 
 
 Being promise 1 so fair. 
 That there shall be a day of Doom. 
 
 The commendatory verses which, following the 
 publishing fashion of the day, accompany several 
 of Smith's productions, show that he was held in 
 high favor by some of the leading literary men 
 of his day, the names of Wither and Brathwayte, 
 two poets whose productions are still read with 
 pleasure, being found among those of the contri- 
 butors. The same feelings of respect excited 
 some of Smith's followers to sing the praises of 
 their great leader. His " true friend and soldier, 
 Ed. Robinson" thus addresses " his worthy Cap- 
 taine, the author " — 
 
 Thou that to passe the world's foure parts dost 
 
 deeme 
 No more, than t'were tu goe to bed, or drinke ; 
 
 and Thos. Carlton, who signs himself " your true 
 friend, sometimes your soldier," gives this honora- 
 ble testimony : 
 
 I never knew a Warryer yet, but thee 
 
 From wine, tobacco, debts, dice, oaths, so free.* 
 
 A few Virginia historical publications contem- 
 porary with Smith, written by scholars resident in 
 or identified with the country, may be here men- 
 tioned : 
 
 Thomas Harriot, the author of " A Brief and 
 true Report of the new found land of Virginia;" 
 
 •» The Life of Captain John Smith has been written by Mr. 
 bimms, with a genial appreciation of his hero. 
 
 and better known as an algebraist, was born at Ox- 
 ford in 1560, where he was educated, being gra- 
 duated in 1579. He was recommended in conse- 
 quence of his mathematical acquirements to Sir 
 Walter Raleigh as a teacher in that science. He 
 received him into his family and in 1585 sent him 
 with the company under Sir Richard Granville 
 to Virginia, where he remained a twelvemonth. 
 In 1588 he obtained through the introduction of 
 Raleigh a pension from Henry Percy, Earl of 
 Northumberland, of £120 per annum. He passed 
 many years in Sion College, where he died in 
 1621. He was the inventor of the improved 
 method of algebraic calculation adopted by 
 Descartes six years after, who passed off the 
 discovery as his own. Harriot's claim was esta- 
 blished by Dr. Wallis in his History of Algebra. 
 His tract, A brief and true account of the new 
 found land of Virginia, &c, was published in 
 1590. A Latin edition appeared in the collection 
 of De Bry in the same year, and afterwards in 
 English in Hakluyt. 
 
 Alexander Wiiitaker, a son of the Rev. Dr. 
 William Whitaker, Master of St. John's College, 
 Cambridge, came to Virginia while a young man, 
 and was one of the settlers of the town of Hen- 
 rico on James river, in 1611. During the same 
 year a church was built and the foundations of 
 another of brick laid, while the minister " im- 
 paled a fine parsonage, with a hundred acres of 
 land, calling it Rock Hall." His letters, in which 
 he expresses his surprise that more of the English 
 clergy do not engage in missionary labors similar to 
 his own, testify to his earnestness in the cause.* 
 He baptized Pocahontas, and also married her to 
 Mr. Rolfe. 
 
 In 1613 he published a work entitled Good 
 Newes from Virginia, Sent to the council and 
 company of Virginia resident in England. The 
 "Epistle Dedieatorie" by W. Crashawe, contains 
 this well merited eulogium of the author. 
 
 I hereby let all men know that a scholar, a gra- 
 duate, a preacher, well born and friended in England; 
 not in debt nor disgrace, but competently provided 
 for, and liked and beloved where he lived ; not in 
 want, but (for a scholar, and as these days be) rich 
 in possession, and more in possibility ; of himself, 
 without any persuasion (but God's and his own 
 heart) did voluntarily leave his warm nest ; and to 
 the wonder of his kindred and amazement of those 
 who knew him, undertook this hard, but, in my 
 judgment, heroical resolution to go to Virginia, and 
 help to bear the name of God unto the gentiles. 
 
 A picturesque account of the country was writ- 
 ten by William Strachet, the first Secretary of 
 the Colony, in his two books of Historie of Tra- 
 vaile into Virginia Britannia. It is dedicated 
 to Lord Bacon, and bears date at least as early as 
 1G18.T Strachey was three years in the Colony, — ^ 
 1610-12. The motto from the Psalms shows his 
 religious disposition and prescience, " This shall 
 be written for the generation to come: and the 
 people which shall be created shall praise the 
 Lord," as the narrative itself does his careful 
 
 * History of the P. E. Church in VirMnia, by the Kev. F. 
 L. Hawks. 
 
 t It has been recently edited from the original MS. in the 
 British Museum, by R. II. Major, and published among the 
 works of the Hakluyt Society. 
 
8 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 observation of " the cosmographie and commodi- 
 ties of the country, together with the manners 
 and customes of the people." 
 
 Strachey was one of the party of officers ship- 
 wrecked on the Bermudas in 1609. His descrip- 
 tion of the storm published in Purchas, was main- 
 tained by Malone to be the foundation of Shake- 
 speare's Tempest.* 
 
 HARVARD COLLEGE. 
 
 On the twenty-eighth day of October, 1636, eight 
 years after the first landing of the Massachusetts 
 Bay colonists, under John Endicot, the General 
 Court at Boston voted four hundred pounds to- 
 wards a school or college, and the following year 
 appointed its location at Newtown, soon changed 
 to Cambridge (in gratitude to the University of 
 England), under the direction of the leading men 
 of the colony. In 1638, the project was deter- 
 mined by the bequest of John Harvard, an English 
 clergyman of education, who had arrived in the 
 country but the year before, who left to the institu- 
 tion a sum of money, at least equal to and probably 
 two-fold the amount of the original appropriation, 
 and a valuable library of three hundred and twenty 
 volumes, including not only the heavy tomes of 
 theology in vogue in that age, but important 
 works of classical and the then recent English 
 literature, among which Bacon's clear-toned style 
 and the amenities of Horace tempered the rigors 
 of Scotus and Aquinas. Contributions flowed in. 
 The magistrates subscribed liberally ; and a noble 
 proof of the temper of the times is witnessed in 
 the number of small gifts and legacies, of pieces 
 of family plate, and in one instance of the bequest 
 of a number of sheep. With such precious stones 
 were the foundations of Harvard laid. The time, 
 place, and manner need no eulogy. They speak 
 for themselves. 
 
 During its first two years it existed in a kind 
 of embryo as the school of Nathaniel Eaton, 
 who bears an ill character in history for his 
 bad temper and short commons. In 1640 the 
 Rev. Henry Dunster, on his arrival from Eng- 
 land, was constituted the first President. He 
 served the college till 1654, when, having ac- 
 quired and preached doctrines in opposition 
 to infant baptism, he was compelled to resign 
 his office. He had borne manfully with the 
 early difficulties of the position, and received 
 little in the way of gratitude. Through his ex- 
 cellent oriental scholarship, he had been intrusted 
 with the improvement of the literal version of 
 the Psalms, known as the Bay Psalm Book. The 
 first printing-press in the colony was set up at 
 Harvard, in the President's house, in 1639. The 
 first publication was the Freeman's Oath, then an 
 almanack, followed by the Bay Psalm Book. 
 Dunster was succeeded by Charles Chauncy, who 
 held the office till his death, which was in 1672. 
 He was a man of learning, having been Professor 
 of Hebrew and Greek in Trinity College, Cam- 
 bridge, and of general worth, though of wavering 
 doctrinal consistency. He had his share in Eng- 
 land of Laud's ecclesiastical interferences, and 
 had recanted his views in opposition to kneel- 
 ing at the communion — an act of submission 
 
 * Major's Introduction to Virginia Britannia, xj. 
 
 which he always regretted. He was driven to 
 New England, whence he was about returning 
 home to his Puritan friends, who had come into 
 power, when he was arrested by the college 
 appointment. He devoted himself to the affairs 
 of the college, and as he suffered the penury of 
 the position, cast his eye to the " allowed diet" and 
 settled stipend of similar situations in England. 
 His petitions to the "honored governor" show that, 
 notwithstanding the early gifts, the institution 
 was ill provided for. Chauncy was threescore 
 when he was made President; and several inte- 
 resting anecdotes are preserved of his scholar's 
 old age. He was an early riser — up at four 
 o'clock in winter and summer, preached plain 
 sermons to the students and townspeople, was 
 laborious in duty, manfully holding that the 
 student, like the commander, should fall at his 
 post. He has reputation as a divine and scholar. 
 He published a sermon on the Advantages of 
 Schools, and a Faithful Ministry, in which he 
 inveighed against the practice of wearing long 
 hair — the Election Sermon of 1656, a volume of 
 twenty-six sermons, on Justification, and the 
 " Antisynodalia," written against the proceed- 
 ings of the Synod held in Boston in 1662. 
 
 His manuscripts passed into the hands of 
 his step-daughter, a widow, who, marrying a 
 Northampton deacon — a pie-man — these devout 
 writings were taken to line his pastry — a fate 
 which the poet Herrick not long before had 
 deprecated in hurrying effusions of a very dif- 
 ferent character into print, in his " Lines to his 
 Book:"— 
 
 Lest rapt from hence, I see thee lie 
 Torn for the use of pasterie. 
 
 The fate of Warburton's collection of old plays, 
 by which English literature has lost so much, it 
 will be recollected, was similar. Dryden, in his 
 MacFlecknoe, celebrates the " martyrs of pies." 
 
 Chauncy left six sons, who all graduated at 
 Harvard, and became preachers. Dr. Chauncy 
 of Boston, in the days of the Revolution, was one 
 of his descendants.* 
 
 The next President was himself a graduate of 
 Harvard, of the class of 1650 — Leonard Hoar. 
 He had reversed the usual process of the clergy 
 of the country — having gone to England and 
 been settled as a preacher in Sussex. The col- 
 lege was thinly attended, and badly supported at 
 the time of his inauguration. He had fallen 
 upon evil days. With little profit and much 
 anxiety, discipline was badly supported, and he 
 retired from the management in less than three 
 years, in 1675. 
 
 The first collection of books was greatly en- 
 larged by the bequest of the library of Theophilus 
 Gale, who died in 1677, "a philologist, a philo- 
 sopher, and a theologian.''! 
 
 Urian Oakes, of English birth, though a gra- 
 duate of the college, was then President pro tem- 
 pore for several years, accepting the full appoint- 
 ment in 1680, which he held till 1681. He died 
 suddenly in office, leaving as memorials of his 
 literature several sermons, including an Election 
 
 * Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Scries, x. t79. Allen's Bio- 
 graphical Dictionary. Peirce's History of Harvard, 32. 
 t Quiucy's Harvard, i. 1S5. 
 
HARVARD COLLEGE. 
 
 9 
 
 and an Artillery sermon, " The Unconquerable, All- 
 conquering, and more than Conquering Christian 
 Soldier ;" an Eulogy in Latin, and an Elegy in 
 English verse on the Rev. Thomas Shepard, of 
 Charlestowu. This was printed in 1677. The 
 verse somewhat halts : 
 
 The muses and the graces too conspired 
 To set forth this rare piece to be admired. 
 
 He breathed love and pursued peace in his day, 
 As if his soul were made of harmony. 
 
 Scarce ever more of goodness crowded lay 
 In such apiece of frail mortality. 
 
 Sure Father Wilson's genuine son was he, 
 New England's Paul has such a Timothy.* 
 ******** 
 
 My dearest, inmost, bosom friend is gone ! 
 
 Gone is my sweet companion, soul's delight I 
 Now in a huddling crowd, I'm all alone, 
 
 And almost could bid all the world good-night. 
 Blest be my rock ! God lives : oh I let him be 
 As he is all, so all in all to me. 
 
 In his youth Oakes published at Cambridge 
 a set of astronomical calculations, with the motto, 
 in allusion to his size — ■ 
 
 Parvum parva decent, sed inest sua gratia parvis. 
 
 Cotton Mather puns incorrigibly upon his name, 
 and pronounces the students " a rendezvous of 
 happy Druids" under his administration. 
 
 Mr. Oakes being now, in the quaint language 
 of the same ingenious gentleman, transplanted 
 into the better world, he was succeeded by John 
 Rogers, a graduate of the College of 1649. 
 He was but a short time President — hardly a 
 year, when he was cut off suddenly, the day 
 after commencement, July 2, 1684. Mather 
 celebrates the sweetness of his temper, and " his 
 real piety set off with the accomplishments 
 of a gentleman, as a gem set in gold." He was 
 one of the writers of complimentary verses on 
 the poems of Anne Bradstreet, in recording the 
 emotions inspired by which, he proves his charac- 
 ter for courtesy and refinement. 
 
 To Venus' shrine no altars raised are, 
 
 Nor venom'd shafts from painted quivers fly : 
 
 Nor wanton doves of Aphrodite's car, 
 
 Or fluttering there, nor here forlornly lie: 
 
 Lorn paramours, nor chatting birds tell news, 
 
 How sage Apollo Daphne hot pursues 
 
 Or stately Jove himself is wont to haunt the stews. 
 
 Nor barking Satyrs breathe, nor dreary clouds 
 Exhaled from Styx, their dismal drops distil 
 Within these fairy, flow'ry fields, nor shrouds 
 The screeching night raven, with his shady quill. 
 But lyrick strings here Orpheus nimbly hits, 
 Arion on his sadled dolphin sits, 
 Chanting as every humour, age and season fits. 
 
 Here silver swans, with nightingales set spells, 
 Which sweetly charm the traveller, and raise 
 Earth's earthed monarchs, from their hidden cells, 
 And to appearance summons lapsed dayes; 
 Their heav'nly air becalms the swelling frayes, 
 
 * John Wilson was the first pastor of the Church in Boston, 
 ■whose virtues and talents are recorded by Mather in the third 
 book of the Magnalia. His cleverness at aiwgrammttlizing 
 is there noted by the pen of an admirer. Mather mentions the 
 witty compliment of Nathaniel Ward "that the anagram of 
 John Wilson was, I pray come in : you are heartily wel- 
 come.' 1 
 
 And fury fell of elements allayes, 
 
 By paying every one due tribute to his praise. 
 
 This seem'd the seite of all those verdant vales, 
 
 And purled springs, whereat the Nymphs do play: 
 
 With lofty hills, where Poets rear their tales, 
 
 To heavenly vaults, which heav'nly sound repay 
 
 By echo's sweet rebound : here ladye's kiss, 
 
 Circling nor songs, nor dance's circle miss ; 
 
 But whilst those Syrens sung, I sunk in sea of bliss. 
 
 A mighty name of the old New England dis- 
 pensation follows in the college annals, Increase 
 Mather, who held the presidency from 1685 to 
 1701. He had previously supplied the vacancy 
 for a short time on the death of Oakes. He 
 attended to his college duties without vacating 
 his parish or his residence at Boston. The char- 
 ter troubles intervened, and Mather was sent to 
 England to maintain the rights of the colonists 
 with James II. and William and Mary. While 
 there, he made the acquaintance of Thomas 
 HollU, who subsequently became the distinguished 
 benefactor of Harvard. He secured from the 
 crown, under the new charter, the possession, to 
 the college, of the grants which it had received. 
 The institution, on his return, flourished under 
 his rule, and received some handsome endow- 
 ments. In 1699, Lieutenant-Governor William 
 Stoughton erected the hall bearing his name, 
 which lasted till 1780, and was succeeded by a 
 new building, with the same designation, in 
 1805. Mather retired in 1701, with the broad 
 hint of an order from the General Court, 
 that the presidents of the college should reside 
 at Cambridge. It is considered by President 
 Quincy, in his History of the University, that the 
 influence of the Mathers — Cotton was connected 
 with the college during the absence of his father, 
 though he never became its head — was unfriendly 
 to its prosperity, in seeking to establish a sec- 
 tarian character. At the outset it was, in a 
 measure, independent. The charters of the col- 
 lege are silent o| points of religious faith. Its 
 seal bore simply the motto " Veritas," written 
 in three divisions on as many open books on 
 the shield. This inscription was soon changed to 
 " In Christi Gloriam," and, probably in the time 
 of Mather, to " Christo et Ecclesiaa."* It was a 
 
 Original Draft for a College Seal. 1648. 
 
 * Quincy's History, i. 49. In reference to tho disposition 
 of the motto, "Veritas," partly inscribed on the inside and 
 partly on the outside of two open volumes, Mr. Robert C. 
 Winthrop gave this pleasant explanation, in a toast at the cele- 
 bration in 1836: "The Founders of our University — Theyhavo 
 taught us that no one human book contains the whole truth of 
 any subject; and that, in order to fret at the real end of any 
 matter, we must be careful to look at both sides." 
 
10 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Mather act to inveigle the whole board of the col- 
 lege into a quasi sanction of the witchcraft delusion, 
 in the circular inviting information touching " the 
 existence and agency of the invisible world."* 
 Driven from the old political assumptions by the 
 new charter, the priestly party sought the con- 
 trol of the college, and a struggle ensued between 
 rival theological interests. Increase Mather bound 
 the government of the institution in a close cor- 
 poration of his own selection, under a new 
 charter from the General Court, which was, 
 however, negatived in England. Before this 
 veto arrived, it had conferred the first degree in 
 the college, of Doctor in Divinity, upon President 
 Mather in 1692. 
 
 The Rev. Samuel Willard was for more than 
 six years, from 1701 to 1707, vice-president of the 
 college, an apparent compromise in the difficulties 
 of the times. He was a graduate of Harvard, had 
 been settled as a minister at Groton, and driven 
 to seek refuge in Boston from the devastations 
 of King Philip's war. He was a good divine of 
 his day, and a useful head of the college. A story 
 is told of his tact, not without humor. His son- 
 in-law, the Rev. Samuel Neal, preached a sermon 
 for him at his church which was much cavilled at 
 as a wretched affair ; when he was requested by 
 the congregation not to admit any more from the 
 same source. He borrowed the sermon, preached 
 it himself, with the advantages of his capital de- 
 livery, and the same persons were so delighted 
 with it that they requested a copy for publica- 
 tion, f He was the author of a number of publi- 
 cations, chiefly sermons, and a posthumous work, 
 in 1726, entitled a "Body of Divinity," which is 
 spoken of as the first folio of the kind published 
 in the country. He wrote on "Witchcraft, and 
 has the credit of having resisted the popular de- 
 lusion on that subject. He was twice married, 
 and had twenty children.! He died in office, and 
 was succeeded by John Leverett, who held the 
 post till 1724. The latter has the reputation of a 
 practical man, faithful to his office, and a liberal- 
 minded Christian. He was a grandson of Gover- 
 nor John Leverett, of Massachusetts. 
 
 The long array of acts of liberality to the col- 
 lege by the Hollis family dates from this time. 
 The great benefactor of the name was Thomas 
 Hollis, a London merchant, born in 1659, who 
 died in 1731. His attention was early attracted 
 to Harvard, by being appointed trustee to his un- 
 cle's will, charged with a bequest to the college. 
 In 1719 he made a first shipment of goods to 
 Boston, the proceeds of which were paid over, 
 and the first interest appropriated to the support 
 of a son of Cotton Mather, then a student. A 
 second considerable donation followed. His direc- 
 tions for the employment of the fund in 1721, 
 constituted the Hollis Professorship of Divinity, 
 to which, in 1727, he added a Professorship of 
 Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. At this 
 time his pecuniary donations had brought to the 
 college four thousand nine hundred pounds Mas- 
 sachusetts currency. He gave and collected books 
 for the library with valuable counsel, and for- 
 
 * Quincy's History of Harvard University, t 62. 
 
 t Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, viii. 1S2, quoted by 
 Peirce. 
 
 X Peirce's Hist of Harvard, p. 74; Eliot's Biog. Diet ; Allen's 
 Biog. Diet. 
 
 warded, from a friend, a set of Hebrew and Greek 
 types for printing. 
 
 This liberality was the more praiseworthy since 
 Hollis was a Baptist, a sect in no great favor in 
 New England ; but he was a man of liberal mind, 
 and selected Harvard for the object of his muni- 
 ficent gifts, as the most independent college of the 
 times.* In founding his Divinity Professorship 
 he imposed no test, but required only that Bap- 
 tists should not be excluded from its privileges. 
 His brothers, John and Nathaniel, were also do- 
 nors to the college. Thomas Hollis, a son of the 
 last mentioned, became the heir of his uncle, the 
 first benefactor, and liberally continued his bounty. 
 He conferred money, books, and philosophical ap- 
 paratus. He survived his uncle but a few years, 
 and left a son, the third Thomas Hollis. This 
 was the famous antiquary and virtuoso, with a 
 collector's zeal for the memory of Milton and Al- 
 gernon Sidney. A rare memorial of his tastes is 
 left in the two illustrated quartos of Memoirs, by 
 Thomas Brand Hollis (who also gave books and a 
 bequest), published in 1780, six years after his 
 death. He sent some of its most valuable literary 
 treasures to the Harvard library, books on reli- 
 gious and political liberty, all of solid worth, and 
 sometimes bound in a costly manner, as became 
 his tastes. It was his humor to employ various 
 gilt emblems or devices to indicate the nature of 
 the contents. Thus he put an owl on the back 
 of one volume, to indicate that it was replete with 
 wisdom, while he indicated the folly of another 
 by the owl reversed. The goddess of liberty 
 figured frequently. Many of the books contained 
 citations from Milton, of whom he was an enthu- 
 siastic admirer, and occasional memoranda exhi- 
 biting the zeal of a bibliographer.! He collected 
 complete series of pamphlets on controversies, and 
 presented them bound. He also gave money 
 freely in addition. His donations in his lifetime 
 
 |If; ( 7i,/,l{g^ !!]£ 
 
 Thomas Hollis. 
 
 and by will amounted to nearly two thousand 
 
 * Qnincy's Hist, of Harvard, i. 233. 
 
 t Several notices of Hollis's books, with copies of his annota- 
 tions, may be seen in the Monthly Anthology for 18C8. In one 
 of his learned volumes he notes, on a loose slip of paper, which 
 has retained its place for nearly ninety years, U T. H. has been 
 particularly industrious in collecting Grammars and Lexicons 
 of the Oriental Root Languages, to send to Harvard College, in 
 hopes of forming by that means, assisted by the energy of the 
 leaders, always beneficent, a few peime scholars, honors to their 
 country, and lights to mankind." 
 
HARVARD COLLEGE. 
 
 11 
 
 pounds sterling. At this day, eighty years after 
 his bequest of five hundred pounds to the library, 
 half of the permanent income for the purchase of 
 books is derived from that source. A full-length 
 portrait of him, richly painted by Copley, at the 
 instance of the corporation, hangs in the Gallery. 
 When it was requested of him, he replied, in 
 allusion to the works of his favorite English refor- 
 mers, which he had sent, " the effigies which you 
 desire may be seen at this time in your library, 
 feature by feature." We have taken our en- 
 graving from a medallion head in the Hollis 
 Memoirs. 
 
 He was the friend not only of English but of 
 American liberty, being instrumental in repub- 
 lishing the early political essays of Mayhew, Otis, 
 and John Adams. 
 
 Leverett was followed in the college presidency 
 by Benjamin Wadsworth, from 1725 to 1737, a 
 moderate, useful man. He published a number 
 of sermons and religious essays. Edward Holyoke 
 succeeded, and was president for nearly thirty- 
 two years, till 1769. Harvard prospered during 
 his time, though the destruction of the old Har- 
 vard Hall by lire, in 1764, was a serious disaster, 
 especially as it involved the loss of the library ; 
 but the sympathy excited new acts of friendship. 
 On a winter's night in January some six thousand 
 volumes were burnt in this edifice, including the 
 Oriental library bequeathed by Dr. Lightfoot, 
 and the Greek and Roman classics presented by 
 Berkeley. * 
 
 M,^ if, T ,M ^ : 
 
 . ."^".l^i." il„ I ... ,- ■ I . . ;..VT"- "iJl 'I Ul? TC 
 
 Harvard Hall, built 16S2, destroyed 1TC4. 
 
 Among other additions to the college useful- 
 ness, the first endowment of special annual lec- 
 tures was made at this period by the Hon. Paul 
 Dudley, of great reputation on the Bench, who, 
 in 1751, founded, by bequest, the course bearing 
 his name. Four are delivered in succession, one 
 each year, on Natural and Revealed Religion, the 
 Church of Rome, and the Validity of Presbyterian 
 Ordination. The first of these was delivered by 
 President Holyoke, who had a rare disinclination 
 among the New England clergy to appear in print, 
 and his discourse was not published. He lived 
 in the discharge of his office to the age of eighty, 
 
 in a vigorous old age. He was amiable, generous, 
 and unostentatious.* 
 
 PIETAS ET QRATULATIO. 
 
 During the Presidency of Holyoke the College 
 gained distinguished honor by the publication, in 
 1761, of the Pietas et Gratulatio.i This was an 
 elegiac and complimentary volume, printed with 
 much elegance in quarto, celebrating the death 
 of George II. in the previous year, and the glo- 
 rious accession of George III., not forgetting 
 Epithalamia on the nuptials with the Princess 
 Charlotte. A proposal was set up in the collpge 
 chapel inviting competition on these themes from 
 undergraduates, or those who had taken a degree 
 within seven years, for six guinea prizes to be 
 given for the best Latin oration, Latin poem in 
 hexameters, Latin elegy in hexameters and pen- 
 tameters, Latin ode, English poem in long verse, 
 and English ode.J: These conditions were not 
 all preserved in the preparation of the volume. 
 Master Lovell, in its second ode, ascribes the first 
 idea to Governor Bernard, who had then just 
 entered on his office, which is confirmed by a reso- 
 lution of the college corporation at the beginning 
 of the next year, providing for a presentation copy 
 to his new Majesty, who does not appear to have 
 made any special acknowledgment of it. Presi- 
 dent Holyoke sent a copy to Thomas Hollis the 
 antiquarian. " An attempt," he says, in his letter, 
 "of several young gentlemen here with us, and 
 educated in this college, to show their pious 
 sorrow on account of the death of our late glo- 
 rious king, their attachment to his royal house, 
 the joy they have in the accession of his present 
 majesty to the British throne, and in the prospect 
 they have of the happiness of Britain from the 
 Royal Progeny which they hope for from his alli- 
 ance with the illustrious house of Mechlenburg."§ 
 The volume thus originated may compare, both 
 in taste and scholarship, with similar effusions of 
 the old world. Though rather a trial of skill than 
 an appeal of sober truthfulness, the necessary pa- 
 negyric is tempered by the good advice to the new 
 King in the prefatory prose address, ascribed to 
 Hutchinson or Bernard, which, if his Majesty had 
 followed in its spirit, separation from the colonies 
 might have been longer delayed. The inevitable 
 condition of such a work as the Pietas is eulogy ; 
 
 * Edward Augustus Holyoke, the centenarian and celebrat- 
 ed physician, of Salem, Mass., was the son of President Holy- 
 oke, by his second marriage. He was born August 13, 1728, 
 and became a graduate of Harvard of 1746. For nearly eighty 
 years he was a practitioner at Salem, dying there in 1S29. Ho 
 ■was a man of character and probity in ins profession, and a 
 remarkable example of the retention of the powers of life. 
 At the age of eighty his desire for knowledge was active as 
 ever, lie kept up his familiarity with the classics, and 
 the prestige of his parentage and college life, in liberal studies 
 and acquaintance with curious things, in and out of his profes- 
 sion. He was well versed in scientific studies, and his case 
 may be added to the long list of natural philosophers who havo 
 reached extreme age. He retained his faculties to the last. 
 It had always been his habit to record his observations, and 
 various voluminous diaries from his pen are in existence. 
 After he completed his hundredth year, it is stated that "ho 
 commenced a manuscript in which he proposed to minute 
 down some of the changes in the manners, dress, dwellings, 
 and employments of the inhabitants of Salem. 11 — Williams's Am. 
 Med. Biog ; Knapp's Am. Biog. 
 
 t Pietas et Gratulatio Collegli Cantabrigiensis apud Novan- 
 glos. Bostoni-Massachusettensium. TypisJ. Green & J. Eus- 
 sell. 1761. 4to. pp. 106. 
 
 $ From a manuscript copy of the " Proposal," in the copy of 
 the PietOA H Gratulatio in the library of Harvard College. 
 
 § September 25, 1762, Hollis's Memoirs, 4 to 101. 
 
12 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 so the departing guest is sped and the coming 
 welcomed, in the most rapturous figments of 
 poetry. George II. is elevated to his apotheosis 
 in the skies, in the long echoing wave of the exult- 
 ing hexameter, while the ebbing flood of feeling 
 at so mournful an exaltation is couched in the 
 6ubdued expression of the sinking pentameter.* 
 All nature is called upon to mourn and weep, and 
 again to rejoice ; all hearts to bleed, and again to 
 live, as one royal monarch ascends the skies and 
 another the throne. As this production really 
 possesses considerable merit, as it brings together 
 the names of several writers worthy of comme- 
 moration, and as the work is altogether unique in 
 the history of American literature, it may be well 
 to notice its separate articles with such testimony 
 as we can bring together on the question of their 
 authorship. 
 
 By the kindness of Mr. Ticknor, the historian 
 of Spanish Literature, we have before us his copy 
 of the Pietas which once belonged to Professor 
 Winthrop, with a manuscript letter from the anti- 
 quarian Thaddeus Mason Harris, who was libra- 
 rian at Harvard from 1791 to 1793, which fur- 
 nishes authorities named in Professor Sewnll's copy 
 presented to the writer ; also a manuscript list of 
 authors on the authority of Dr. Eliot. In the 
 Monthly Anthology for June, 1809, we have a 
 carefully prepared list, in an article written by 
 A. H. Everett, and in the No. for July some sug- 
 gestions for its emendation, by the Rev. Dr. Samuel 
 Deane, of Portland, the only surviving contributor, 
 and from another person, not known to us, who 
 dates his note, July 13, 1809. 
 
 There are thirty-one papers in all, exclusive of 
 the introductory address to the King. The first 
 is the Arlhortatio Prasidis, a polished Latin ode, 
 the ostensible composition of President Holyoke, 
 who was then about seventy. It does credit to 
 his taste and scholarship^ It closes with a refer- 
 ence to the hopes of the future American song. 
 
 Sic forsan et vos vestraque munera 
 Blando benignus lumine viderit, 
 Miratus ignotas camcenas 
 
 Sole sub Hesperio calentes. 
 
 The second and twenty-fifth belong to John Lo- 
 vell, to whom have also been ascribed by Deane 
 the twenty-sixth and seventh, with the still further 
 authority of Lovell's name at the end of these 
 articles, in Winthrop's own copy. 
 
 Lovell was a graduate of Harvard, and was 
 master of the Boston Latin school for forty years 
 from 1734 to 1775 (succeeding to the afterwards 
 famous Jeremiah Gridley, a great lawyer in his 
 prime, and an elegant writer in his newspaper, 
 the Rehearsal^ in his younger days, in 1731), 
 when he became a loyalist refugee, and went with 
 the British troops to Halifax, where he soon after 
 
 * Coleridge has most happily, in his translation of Schiller's 
 couplet, "described and exemplified 1 ' the Ovidian Elegiac 
 metre. 
 
 In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery columu ; 
 In the pentameter aye falling in melody back. 
 
 t The writer in the Monthly Anthology for June, 1809, sug- 
 gests that he was assisted in it by Master Lovell. It has also 
 been ascribed to Bernard. 
 
 % The Rehearsal was a weekly paper in Boston, on a half 
 sheet folio, published from 1731-85, when it was merged in the 
 Boston Evening Post. In Gridley's hands it was written in 
 rather an ornamental style. Thomas's Hist of Print, ii. 22S. 
 Mass. Hist. Soe. Coll., First Series, v. 218. 
 
 died, in 1778. Though arigid teacher, Lovell is said 
 to have been an agreeable companion ; and though 
 a tory, he educated many of the whig leaders. 
 He delivered the first published address in Faneuil 
 Hall, a funeral oration on its founder in 1742. In 
 the close of this he uttered the memorable sen- 
 tence, " May this hall be ever sacred to the inte- 
 rests of truth, of justice, of loyalty, of honor, of 
 liberty. May no private views nor party broils 
 ever enter these walls." 
 
 Lovell's Latin ode (n.) to Governor Bernard is 
 forcible and elegant, and its concluding simile of 
 the torn branch in Virgil's descent to Hades, as 
 applied to the royal succession, happy. 
 
 Sic sacra scevae dona Proserpina? 
 Dimittit arbor, alter et emicat 
 Ramus refuigens, ac avito 
 
 Silva iterum renovatur auro. 
 
 His second composition (xxv.) is an Epithala- 
 mium in English heroics, descriptive of the embar- 
 cation of Charlotte on the Elbe. Rocks, sands, 
 winds, and Neptune are invoked to give safe con- 
 duct to the marriage party ; and Neptune responds 
 in the most cordial manner. 
 
 xxvi. and xxvn. are, the one in Latin, the other 
 in English, commemorations of the astronomical 
 incident of the year, the transit of Venus, which 
 had just been observed by Professor Winthrop, of 
 the College at St. John's. 
 
 "While Halley views the heavens with curious eyes, 
 And notes the changes in the stormy skies,— 
 "What constellations 'bode descending rains, 
 Swell the proud streams, and fertilize the plains ; 
 "What call the zephyrs forth, with favouring breeze, 
 To waft Britannia's fleets o'er subject seas; 
 In different orbits how the planets run, 
 Reflecting rays they borrow from the sun: — 
 Sudden a different prospect charms his sight, — 
 Venus encircled in the source of light! 
 W r onders to come his ravished thoughts unfold, 
 And thus the Heaven-instructed bard foretold : 
 What glorious scenes, to ages past unknown, 
 Shall in one summer's rolling months be shown. 
 Auspicious omens yon bright regions wear ; 
 Events responsive in the earth appear. 
 A golden Phoebus decks the rising morn, — 
 Such, glorious George ! thy youthful brows adorn ; 
 Kor sparkles Venus on the ethereal plain, 
 Brighter than Charlotte 'midst the virgin train. 
 The illustrious pair conjoined in nuptial ties, 
 Britannia shines a rival to the skies ! 
 
 Seven of the compositions are given to Stephen 
 Sewall, whom Han-is has called "the most 
 accomplished classical scholar of his day which 
 our college or country could boast."* These 
 papers are the in., in Latin hexameters ; v., an 
 English ode ; xn., a Latin elegiac ; xiv., an 
 elegant Latin sapphic ode, exulting over the pros 
 pects of the royal grandson, and prematurely 
 rejoicing in the peaceful reign : 
 
 Ipse sacratum tibi Jane ! templum 
 Clauserit ; ramos olese virentis 
 Marte jactatis populis daturus 
 
 Corde benigno. 
 
 * Manuscript letter to Prof. George Ticknor, Dorchester, 
 April, 1S28. 
 
HARVARD COLLEGE. 
 
 13 
 
 Hinc quies orbi ; studiis juvamen ; 
 Gaudium musis ; thalami puellis ; 
 Omnibus passim hinc oriatur amplo 
 Copia cornu. 
 
 Prata pubesount gregibus superba ; 
 Cuncta subrident redimita sertis. 
 Num rogas unde hsec ? Regit his Georgcs 
 Altek et idem. 
 
 xv. and xvi. are a Greek elegy and sapphic. 
 xxiii. is a Latin sapphic ode addressed to the 
 new sovereign, elegant and spirited, setting all 
 the powers of nature ringing in with great joy 
 and hilarity the coming of the new sovereign. 
 
 Sewall was born at York, in the district of 
 Maine, in 1734, and was brought up as a joiner, 
 his industry in which calling gave him the means 
 of entering Harvard at the age of twenty-four. 
 He was Professor of Hebrew and Oriental Lan- 
 guages, in which he was a proficient, at Harvard, 
 from 1765 to 1785. His lectures were models of 
 English composition. He published a Hebrew 
 Grammar in 1763 ; a Latin oration on the death 
 of President Holyoke ; an oration on the death 
 of Professor Winthrop ; Scripture Account of the 
 Schekinah, 1774; History of the Destruction of 
 Sodom and Gomorrah, 1776 ; a translation of the 
 first book of Young's Night Thoughts into Latin 
 verse, and Garmina Sacra* In the college library 
 is a " Syriac and Ohaldee Grammar and Diction- 
 ary" in MS., prepared by him for publication; also 
 a "Treatise on Greek Prosody," and part of a 
 Greek and English Lexicon.t He died in 1804, 
 in his seventy-first year. 
 
 John Lowell, of Newbury, on the testimony of 
 the Anthology and Dr. Eliot, was the author of 
 No. vii., a not very remarkable eulogy of the 
 two sovereigns in English heroics. Lowell had 
 been graduated the year before, and was about 
 to lay the foundation of those legal attainments 
 •which made him a constitutional authority in his 
 own State, and Judge of the Federal Court in 
 Massachusetts, under the appointment of Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 vin., ix., and xvn., are ascribed, in Sewall's 
 copy, and by Deane, to the elder Bowdoin. The 
 first two are Latin epigrams ; the last is an Eng- 
 lish iambic in the good round measure of the 
 author, whom we shall meet again in his moral 
 poem on the Economy of Life. Bowdoin was 
 
 * The Night Thoughts were published in a small 18mo. of 
 21 pages, in 1786. Nocte Cogitata, Auctore, Anglice Scripta, 
 Young, D.D., qute Lingua Latii Donavit America. Carolop- 
 pidi: Typis Allen ibCushlng, Massachusettensium. The motto 
 is from Virgil — Suut lachfymae rerum, et mentem mortalia 
 tangunt. The dedication is to John Hancock, President of 
 Congress — Nomen prze se ferro gestit. It thus renders Young's 
 famous opening lines: — 
 
 Somnus, qui fessos reficit mitissimus artusl 
 Iste, homines vcluti, qua res fortuna secundat, 
 Prompte adit; at miseros torve fugit ore minaci: 
 Prieceps a luctu properat pernicibus alis, 
 Atque oculis, lachryma vacuis, considit amice. 
 
 The Carmina Sacra qum Latine Gneceque Condidit America 
 was published in a neat small quarto form of eight pages, 
 Wigornia3, Massachusettensis, typis Isaia? Thomas, 1789. It 
 gives versions of the 23d and "134th Psalms, the first nine 
 verses of the 4th chapter of the Song of Solomon, and a Greek 
 Ode on the Day of the Last Judgment The Canticles com- 
 mence : — 
 
 En venusta es, eara mihi, en venusta es, ■ 
 Crinibus snbsunt oculi columbae: 
 Bunt tui crines, velut agmen errans 
 Monte caprinum. 
 t MS. list of Sewa'PB writings by T. M. Harris. 
 
 at this time a graduate of some sixteen years' 
 standing. 
 
 Samuel Deane, who wrote the English ode x., 
 as appears by his own authority, was a Bachelor 
 of Arts of the year before. He was of the class 
 of 1760 of the college, its Librarian and Promus, — 
 a species of steward. He became noted as the 
 minister of Portland, Maine. He died in 1814, 
 having published an Election Sermon and the 
 New England Farmer or Georgical Dictionary . 
 
 xi., one of the longest English poems, was 
 written by Benjamin Church, of whom we say 
 something elsewhere ; and iv., in English rhyme, 
 may also be given to him, on the authority of a 
 marked copy in the Harvard Library. 
 
 xm. and xxviii., English odes, belong to Dr. 
 Samuel Cooper, then in his established pulpit 
 reputation, having left college eighteen years 
 before. 
 
 xviii., xix., xx., xxxi., on the Anthology 
 authority, may be set down to Governor Francis 
 Bernard, who may have been the writer also of 
 vi., a Latin elegiac. President Quincy assigns 
 five contributions to Bernard. The first two are 
 brief Grejk and Latin epitaphs, of which the 
 third is an English translation. Thirty-one is the 
 Epilogue, a Latin sapphic ode, prophetic of the 
 future glories of the American muse. It is not 
 often that the world gets so good an ode from a 
 Governor, but Bernard had kept up his old Oxford 
 education, and had a decided taste in literature, 
 knowing Shakspeare, it is said, by heart.* 
 
 EPILOGtjg. 
 
 Isis et Camus placide fluentes, 
 Qua novem fastos celebrant sorores, 
 Deferunt vatum pretiosa Regi 
 
 Dona Bkitanno. 
 
 Audit haee Flumen, prope Bostonense3 
 Quod Novanglorum studiis dicatas 
 Abluit sedes, eademque sperat 
 
 Munera ferre. 
 
 Obstat huie Phoebus, chorus omnis obstat 
 Virginum ; frustra officiosa pensum 
 Tentat insuetum indocilis ferire 
 
 Plectra juventua. 
 
 Attamen, si quid studium placendi. 
 Si valent quidquam Pietas Fidesque 
 Civica, omnino rudis hand peribit 
 Gratia Musse. 
 
 Quin erit tempus, cupidi augurantur 
 Vana m vates, sua cum Novangus 
 Grandius quoddam meliusque carmen 
 Chorda sonabit: 
 
 Dum regit mundum occiduum Britannus, 
 Et suas artes, sua jura terris 
 Dat novis, nullis eohiber.da metis 
 
 Regna capessens ; 
 
 Dum Debs pendens agitationes 
 Gentium, fluxo moderatur orbi, 
 Passus humanum genus hie perire, 
 Hie renovari 
 
 xxi., xxn., are Latin sapphies of which the 
 author is unknown ; nor has any name been 
 assigned to the spirited Latin epithalamium 
 xxiv., worthy to have been penned by Lovell 
 or Sewall. 
 
 * Allen's Biographical Dictionary. 
 
14 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE. 
 
 xxix. of the Pietas et Gratulatio, in English 
 blank verse, is assigned by the Anthology lists to 
 Thomas Oliver, who had graduated eight years 
 before, and who was then living in retirement, to 
 be disturbed afterwards by his lieutenant-gover- 
 norship and loyalist flight to England. Peter 
 Oliver, to whom this has also been ascribed, had 
 graduated thirty-one years before, and was then 
 a Judge of the Superior Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 The English poem xxx. may have been written 
 by Bowdoin. 
 
 We have now enumerated each item of this 
 meritorious production, which is well worthy of 
 learned and antiquarian annotation at the hands 
 of some competent son of Old Harvard. The wri- 
 ters were nearly all alumni of the college, and 
 though not all fresh from its halls at the date of 
 this composition, the fact that they were scho- 
 lars, whose taste and literature had been thus far 
 preserved, is the more creditable to both parties, 
 when we consider how soon such accomplish- 
 ments generally fade amidst the active affairs of 
 the world. 
 
 Samuel Locke was the successor of Holyoke for 
 more than three years, when he resigned the office. 
 He made no particular mark in his college govern- 
 ment. He is said to have been a man of talents, 
 wanting knowledge of the world, which the situa- 
 tion in those revolutionary days demanded. 
 
 From 1774 to 1780 the chair was occupied by 
 Samuel Langdon, whose ardent Whig politics, 
 while the public was pleased, hardly compensat- 
 ed for his lack of judgment. He retired to the 
 duties of a country parish. 
 
 Joseph Willard was elected in 1781, and con- 
 tinued till his death, in 1804. "Having been 
 called to the President's chair in the midst of 
 the revolutionary war, when the general tone 
 of morals was weak, and the spirit of discipline 
 enervated, he sustained the authority of his sta- 
 tion with consummate steadfastness and prudence. 
 He found the seminary embarrassed, he left it 
 free and prosperous."* 
 
 Samuel Webber, before his presidency, from 
 1806 to 1810, had been Professor of Mathematics 
 in the college. He had been a farmer's boy, and 
 had entered the university at twenty. He pub- 
 lished a work on Mathematics in two volumes 
 octavo, which was much used in the early part 
 of the century. He was succeeded in the go- 
 vernment of the college by John Thornton Kirk- 
 land, who held the office from 1810 to 1828, 
 and whose honored memory is fresh in the 
 hearts of the present generation. All of these 
 Presidents, from the commencement to the time 
 of Quincy, were clergymen or preachers, as 
 they have always been graduates of the college 
 from the days of President Hoar. From Kirk- 
 land, in 1829, the office passed to Josiah Quincy, 
 who held it till 1845 ; when he was succeeded 
 by Edward Everett, 1846-49 ; and Jared Sparks 
 from that year till 1853, when the present in- 
 cumbent, James Walker, was called from his 
 chair of Moral Philosophy. His reputation as 
 a thinker and preacher was established by 
 his pulpit career at Charlestown, and the dis- 
 charge of the duties of his professorship ; and 
 
 * Quincy's Hist. ii. 2S3. 
 
 though fastidious in avoiding publication, by his 
 occasional discourses and articles in the Christian 
 Examiner, during his editorship of the journal 
 with the Rev. Dr. Greenwood. He has published, 
 as a college text-book, an edition of Reid "On 
 the Intellectual Powers," with notes, also an 
 edition of Dugald Stewart's " Philosophy of the 
 Active and Moral Powers," and has delivered a 
 course of Lowell lectures on "The Philosophy 
 of Religion." 
 
 Having brought the line of Presidents to the 
 present day, we may now notice a few incidental 
 points connected with the history of the college. 
 
 In 1814 a Professorship of Greek Literature 
 was founded by Samuel Eliot, a merchant of Bos- 
 ton, who liberally appropriated twenty thousand 
 dollars for the purpose. The gift was anonymons, 
 and the professorship did not bear his name till his 
 death in 1820. Edward Everett was the first in- 
 cumbent; and 0. C. Felton, since 1834, lias done 
 much to make the title known. In Astronomy and 
 Mathematics, Benjamin Peirce, since 1842; Dr. 
 Gray, the successor of Nuttall in Natural History, 
 in 1842 ; and Louis Agassiz, in Zoology and Geo- 
 logy, since 1847, have extended the reputation of 
 the college among men of science throughout the 
 world. 
 
 An important addition has been made to the 
 higher educational facilities of Cambridge in the 
 foundation, by the Hon. Abbott Lawrence, of the 
 Scientific School bearing his name. Its faculty 
 consists of the president and ten professors ; the 
 most important chairs, those of chemistry, geo- 
 logy, and engineering, are at present occupied 
 by Horsford, Agassiz, and Eustis. Students are 
 not admitted under the age of eighteen. An at- 
 tendance of at least one year on one or more of 
 the courses of lectures, and a satisfactory exami- 
 nation on the studies pursued, entitle the student 
 to the degree of Bachelor in Science cum laude. 
 To attain the highest grade, summd cum laude, a 
 more rigorous examination, exceeding in tho- 
 roughness, it is said by those who have been sub- 
 jected to it, the celebrated examinations at West 
 Point, must be passed. A Museum of Natural 
 History, under the supervision of the professors, 
 has been commenced on a scale commensurate 
 with the extended instructions of the school. 
 
 The Institution, besides the eminent professors 
 whom we have mentioned, enumerates amongst its 
 graduates and officers, the names of the Wiggles- 
 worths, the Wares, Woods, Channing, Buckmin- 
 ster, Norton, Palfrey, Noyes, Francis, in theo- 
 logy and sacred literature ; Edward Everett, 
 Popkin,* and Felton, in classic literature ; Ticknor, 
 Follen, and Longfellow, in the languages of con- 
 tinental Europe ; Winthrop, Webber, Bowditch, 
 Safford, Farrar, Peck, Cogswell, Nuttall, Harris, 
 Wyman, in the departments of mathematics, na- 
 tural history, and philosophy ; Isaac Parker, Par- 
 sons, Stearns, Story, Ashmun, Greenleaf, W'hea- 
 ton, William Kent, and Joel Parker, in the school 
 of jurisprudence; and the best talent of the time 
 and region in medicine and anatomy. Other 
 
 * A Memorial of the Rev. John Snelling Popkin was edited 
 by Professor Felton, in 1852. He was a man of a dry humor 
 and of sterling character. His lectures on classical subjects, of 
 which several are published, show him to have been a good 
 scholar and a polished man of his times. 
 
HARVARD COLLEGE. 
 
 15 
 
 names of reputation are to be found in the list 
 of tutors, while the " bibliothecarii" have nobly 
 illustrated their calling, from early Stoddard, 
 Sewall, and Gookin, including Mather Byles and 
 the Librarian of the Astor Library, Dr. Cogswell, 
 to the present occupant, Dr. Harris, and the 
 Assistant Librarian, Mr. Sibley, than whom the 
 office never had a more accommodating or active 
 incumbent.* 
 
 The early college usages, the mode of living, 
 the respect to professors, interior rules and regu- 
 lations, the ceremonial on state occasions, offer 
 many curious subjects of inquiry. In 1693, the 
 Corporation passed an ordinance against the use 
 by the students in their rooms of " plum cake," 
 which probably became contraband from its ac- 
 cessories. The Saturnalia of Commencement time 
 were celebrated. In the " Collection of Poems 
 by Several Hands," published in Boston in 1744, 
 to which Byles contributed, there is a pleasant 
 description in verse of the humors of Commence- 
 ment at Cambridge, recounting the adventures of 
 rural beaux and belles crossing the river, the fine 
 show made by the ladies of the town at their 
 windows, equalled only by the procession of stu- 
 dents. The church is filled, while the youth, full 
 of learning, declaim and debate, and having 
 received their degree from "the awful chief," 
 proceed to " the sav'ry honors of the feast." The 
 fields about, in the meantime, are turned into 
 a fair, full of wrestlers, mountebanks, and ginger- 
 bread. 
 
 In 1771 was published " Brief Remarks on the 
 Satirical Drollery at Cambridge last Commence- 
 ment Day, with special reference to the character 
 of Stephen the Preacher, which raised such ex- 
 travagant mirth," by A. Croswell, V. D. M. in 
 Boston. The reverend divine seems to have been 
 greatly disturbed at the hilarity on the occasion, 
 created by some of the performances, " which 
 made the house of God to outdo the playhouses 
 for vain laughter and clapping." Croswell's 
 pamphlet drew out a reply, in " A letter to the 
 Rev. Andrew Croswell, by Simon the Tanner." 
 
 In the old Massachusetts Magazine for 1789, 
 there is a quaint paper addressed " To Students 
 of Colleges and Universities," eulogistic of the 
 beauty and opportunities of college halls and 
 usages. 
 
 The Fair day at Cambridge was kept up till 
 within quite a recent period. To this day the 
 banks of Boston are closed on the holiday of 
 Commencement, and the Governor goes out in 
 state to the exercises, escorted by city troops. 
 
 The second centennial anniversary of the col- 
 lege foundation was celebrated in September, 
 1836, with great eclat. A pavilion was erected 
 on the college grounds, where the alumni assem- 
 bled, answering to the roll-call of graduates. An 
 old man of eighty-six, of the class of 1774, was 
 the first to answer. The Address was delivered 
 by President Quincy. Odes were recited, speeches 
 were made by Everett, Story, and other magnates 
 of the institution. Everett presided, and Robert 
 C. Winthrop, a direct descendant of the first 
 
 His History of the Town of Union, in Maine, is a mono- 
 graph of local history, written with fidelity and spirit: one of 
 the best of a class of compositions of inestimable interest to 
 our American historical literature. 
 
 governor of the colony, one of the earliest sup- 
 porters of the college, was the marshal of the day. 
 The college buildings were illuminated in the 
 evening. 
 
 Gore Hall, the library building, completed in 
 1841, is named in honor of Christopher Gore, who 
 had been Governor of the State, and United 
 States Commissioner to England under the Jay 
 treaty, who left the college a bequest amounting 
 to nearly one hundred thousand dollars. The 
 several libraries connected with the University 
 contain about one hundred thousand volumes. 
 Among the specialities, besides the Hollis, the 
 Palmer, and other donations, are the Ebeling 
 collection of American books, purchased and 
 presented by Israel Thorndike in 1818, the Ame- 
 rican historical library of Warden, former Con- 
 sul at Paris, purchased at a cost of more than 
 five thousand dollars, and presented to the col- 
 lege by Samuel Atkins Eliot, in 1823, a collec- 
 tion further enriched by the application of the 
 Prescott bequest in 1845.* The library has also 
 its collection of portraits and statuary. 
 
 Gore Hall is of granite, of the general design 
 of King's College Chapel at Cambridge. 
 
 Goro Hall. 
 
 The Picture Gallery, in the room extending 
 through the entire lower story of Harvard Hall, 
 contains more than forty portraits of benefactors 
 of the institution, and of other eminent individu- 
 als. Nearly all are works of merit, being the 
 productions of Copley, Stuart, Trumbull, New- 
 ton, Smibert, and Frothingham, with other more 
 recent painters. 
 
 In the literary associations of Harvard, the Phi 
 Beta Kappa Society should not be forgotten. It 
 was introduced at Harvard from the original 
 charter, at William and Mary College, in Vir- 
 ginia, about the year 1778. It was a secret 
 society, with its grip for personal communication, 
 and its cypher for correspondence, though con- 
 fined to purely literary objects. For some time 
 the literary exercises usual with college clubs 
 were kept up by the students, though they have 
 been intermitted for the last twenty or thirty 
 years. Meetings of undergraduates are held only 
 to elect members from the next class; and the 
 entire action of the society at Cambridge is 
 
 * Jowett's Smithsonian Institution Library Report, 82. 
 
16 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 limited to an oration and poem, and the enter- 
 tainment of a dinner, in. which it alternates with 
 the Association of the Alumni, so that each has 
 its exercises every second year. Edward Everett 
 was for several years its President at Harvard. 
 Its literary exercises have been distinguished by 
 many brilliant productions. Joseph Bartlett pro- 
 nounced his poem on "Physiognomy" in 1799; 
 Everett's poem, on " American Poets," was deli- 
 vered in 1812; Bryant's "Ages" in 1821; 
 Sprague's "Curiosity" in 1829; Dr. Holmes's 
 "Metrical Essay on Poetry" in 1836. 
 
 In the religious opinions of its conductors, and 
 its plan of education, Harvard has faithfully re- 
 presented the times, during the long period 
 through which it has passed. A glance at its cata- 
 logue will show its early proficiency in the studies 
 connected with sacred literature and natural phi- 
 losophy. Though always producing good scholars, 
 its polished Belles Lettres training has been com- 
 paratively of recent growth. When the first 
 catalogue of the library was printed in 1723, it 
 contained not a single production of Dryden, the 
 literary magnate of its period ; of the accomplished 
 statesman and essayist, Sir William Temple, of 
 Shaftesbury, Addison, Pope, or Swift."* It has, 
 to the present day, largely supplied the cultiva- 
 tion of Massachusetts, and for a long time, 
 from its commencement, the whole of New Eng- 
 land, furnishing the distinguished men of the 
 State and its professions. Its new professorships 
 of the Classics, of Rhetoric, of the Modern Lan- 
 guages, of Law, of Science, mark the progress of 
 the world in new ideas. Though for the most 
 part ostensibly founded with conservative reli- 
 gious views, our colleges have not been generally 
 very rigid guardians of opinion. Their course 
 has rather been determined by influences from 
 without. Established in old Puritan times, Har- 
 vard has suffered, of course, a disintegration 
 of the staunch orthodoxy of its old Chauncys 
 and Mathers. About the beginning of the cen- 
 tury, it passed over virtually into its present 
 Unitarianism, though the officers of instruction 
 and government are of nearly all denominations. 
 
 This narrative might be pursued at great length, 
 following out the details of bequests and legacies, 
 the dates of college buildings, the foundation of 
 scholarships and professorships through long 
 series of incumbents more or less eminent. Pre- 
 sident Quincy, who is not a diffuse writer, has 
 not extended the subject beyond the interest or 
 sympathies of his intelligent reader, in his two 
 large octavo volumes. For the minutiae of ad- 
 ministration, and other points of value in the his- 
 tory of education and opinion in America, we 
 may refer to his work — to the faithful but not so 
 extensive chronicle of Benjamin Peirce, the libra- 
 rian of the University, who closes his account with 
 the presidency of Holyoke, to the sketch of the 
 history of the College by Samuel A. Eliot, and 
 to the judicious History of Cambridge by Abiel 
 Hohnes. 
 
 THE BAT PSALM BOOK. 
 The first book of consequence printed in the 
 country was what is called Tlie Bay Psalrn 
 
 * Peirce's History of Harvard Univ. 109. 
 
 Booh. "About the year 1639," says Cotton Ma- 
 ther, in the Magnalia, " the new English Reform- 
 ers resolving upon a new translation [of the 
 Psalms], the chief divines in the country took each 
 of them a portion to be translated; among whom 
 were Mr. Welde and Mr. Eliot of Roxbury, and 
 Mr. Mather of Dorchester. The Psalms thu3 
 turn'd into Metre were printed at Cambridge, in 
 the year 1640."* 
 
 The Rev. Thomas Welde was the first minister 
 of Roxbury, where he was the associate of Eliot, 
 the Apostle to the Indians. He returned to 
 England with Hugh Peters, and became the 
 author of two tracts in vindication of the purity 
 of the New England worship. Mr. Richard Ma- 
 ther was the father of Cotton, who goes on to 
 add — " These, like the rest, were of so different a 
 genius for their poetry, that Mr. Shepard of Cam- 
 bridge, on the occasion, addressed them to this 
 purpose. 
 
 You Roxbury Poets, keep clear of the crime 
 Of missing to give us a very good rhyme. 
 And you of Dorchester your verses lengthen, 
 And with the text's own word you will them 
 strengthen. 
 
 The design was to obtains closer adherence to 
 the sense than the versions of Ainsworth,f which 
 they chiefly employed, and of Sternhold and Hop- 
 kins offered. The preface to the new book set 
 this forth distinctly as a motive of the collection, 
 
 because every good minister hath not a gift of 
 spiritual poetry to compose extemporary psalmes as 
 he hath of prayer. 
 
 * * Neither let any think, that for the metre 
 sake we have taken liberty or poetical licence to 
 depart from the true and proper sense of David's 
 words in the Hebrew verses, noe ; but it hath been 
 one part of our religious care and faithful endeavour, 
 to keepe close to the original text. 
 
 * * If, therefore, the verses are not always so 
 smooth and elegant as some may desire or expect; 
 let them consider that God's altar needs not our 
 polishings, Ex. 20 : for we have respected rather a 
 plain translation, than to smooth our verses with 
 the sweetness of any paraphrase, and so have 
 attended conscience rather than elegance, fidelity 
 rather than poetry, in translating the Hebrew words 
 into English language, and David's poetry into Eng- 
 lish metre, that so we may sing in Sion the Lord's 
 songs of praise according to his own will ; until he 
 take us from hence, and wipe away all our tears, and 
 bid us enter into our master's joy to sing eternal 
 Hallelujahs. 
 
 As specimens of this version we may give the 
 following, not remarkable for grace or melody, 
 however distinguished for fidelity. 
 
 * Magnalia, iii. 100. We take the title from the copy in the 
 Mass. Hist. Soc. Library, which, from an entry on a fly-leaf, was 
 one of the books belonging to "the New England Library," 
 begun to be collected Dy Thomas Prince, upon his entering 
 Harvard College July 6, 1708. The Whole Book of Palms 
 faithfully translated into English metre. Whereunto is pre- 
 fixed a discourse declaring not only the lawfulness, but also the 
 necessity of the heavenly ordinance of singing Scripture 
 Psalms in the Churches of God. Imprinted 1640. 
 
 t Henry Ainsworth was a native of England, a leader of the 
 
 Brownists, and a man of eminent learning. He retired, on the 
 
 banishment of the sect, to Holland, where he published his 
 
 " Book of Psalms" in Amsterdam in 1612. The Puritans 
 
 ! brought it with them to Plymouth. Sternhold and Hopkins's 
 
 i version of a portion of the Psalms was made in England aa 
 
 I early as 1549. 
 
THE BAY PSALM BOOK. 
 
 17 
 
 PSAXSIE 18. 
 ****** 
 
 6. I in my streights, cal'd on the Lord, 
 and to my Gud ery'd : he did heare 
 from his temple my voyce, my erye, 
 before him came, unto his eare. 
 
 1. Then th' earth shooke and quak't and moun- 
 taiues 
 roots moov'd, and were stir'd at his ire. 
 
 8. Up from his nostrils went a smoak, 
 and from his mouth devouring fire: 
 By it the eoales inkiudled were. 
 
 9. Likewise the heavens he downe-bow'd, 
 and he descended, and there was 
 under his feet a gloomy cloud. 
 
 10. An d he on cherub rode, and flew ; 
 yea he flew on the wings of winde. 
 
 11. His secret place hee darknes made 
 bis covert that him round coufinde, 
 Dark waters, and thick clouds of skies. 
 
 psalme 123. 
 A Song of degrees. 
 
 1. Blessed is every one 
 that doth Jehovah feare ; 
 that walks his wayes along. 
 
 2. For thou shalt eate with cheere 
 
 thy hands labour: 
 blest shalt thou bee, 
 it well with thee 
 
 shall be therefore. 
 
 3. Thy wife like fruitful vine 
 shall be by thine house side : 
 the children that be thine 
 like olive plants abide 
 
 about thy board. 
 
 4. Behold thus blest 
 that man doth rest, 
 
 that feares the Lord. 
 
 5. Jehovah shall thee blesse 
 from Sion, and shall see 
 Jerusalem's goodness 
 
 all thy life's days that bee. 
 
 6. And shall view well 
 thy children then 
 
 with their children, 
 peace on Isr'ell. 
 
 In a second edition of the work in 1647, were 
 added a few spiritual songs. This is a specimen 
 of the latter from the " Song of Deborah and 
 Barak." 
 
 Jael the Kenite, Heber's wife 
 
 'bove women blest shall be. 
 Above the women in the tent 
 
 a blessed one is she. 
 He water ask'd, she gave him milk : 
 
 in lordly dish she fetch'd 
 Him butter forth : unto the nail 
 
 she forth her left hand stretched : 
 
 Her right hand to the workman's maul 
 
 and Sisera hammered : 
 She pierced and struck his temples through, 
 
 and then cut off his head. 
 He at her feet bow'd, fell, lay down, 
 
 he at her feet bow'd where 
 He fell: whereas he bowed down 
 
 he fell distroyed there. 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
 " A little more art," says Mather, was found to 
 be necessary to be employed upon this version, 
 and it was committed for revision to the President 
 of Harvard, the Rev. Henry Dunster, who was 
 assisted in the task by Richard Lyon, an oriental 
 scholar, who came over to the colony as the tutor 
 to the son of Sir Henry Mildmay. The versifica- 
 tion improved somewhat under their hands. 
 
 Previously to the publication of this edition, to 
 assist it with the people, came forth the Rev. John 
 Cotton's treatise, " Singing of Psalms a Gospel 
 ordinance," urging the duty of singing aloud in 
 spiritual meetings, the propriety of using the 
 examples in Scripture, and the whole congrega- 
 tion joining in the duty ; and meeting the objec- 
 tions to the necessary deviation from the plain 
 text of the Bible. The circumstance that Popish 
 churches used chants of David's prose helped him 
 along in the last particular. The difficulties to be 
 met show a curious state of religious feeling. 
 That the use of the Psalms of David in religious 
 worship, should be vindicated, in preference to 
 dependence upon the special spiritual inspirations 
 of this kind on the occasion, such as the state of 
 New England literature at that time afforded, is 
 something notable in the Puritan history. Another 
 scruple it seems was in permitting women to take 
 part in public psalmody by an ingenious textual 
 argument which ran this way. By a passage in 
 Corinthians it is forbidden to a woman to speak 
 in the church — "how then shall they sing?" 
 Much less, according to Timothy, are they to pro- 
 phesy in the Church — and singing of Psalms is a 
 kind of prophesying. Then the question was 
 raised whether " carnal men and pagans" should 
 sing with Christians and Church-members. Such 
 was the illiberal casuistry which Cotton was re- 
 quired to meet. He handled it on its own 
 grounds with breadth and candor, in the spirit 
 of a scholar and a Christian. " Though spiritual 
 gifts," he wrote, " are necessary to make melody 
 to the Lord in singing; yet spiritual gifts are 
 neither the only, nor chief ground of singing ; but 
 the chief ground thereof is the moral duty lying 
 upon all men by the commandment of God : If 
 any oe merry to sing Psalms. As in Prayers, 
 though spiritual gifts be requisite to make it ac- 
 ceptable, yet the duty of prayer lieth upon all 
 men by that commandment which forbiddeth 
 atheism : it is the fool that saith in his heart 
 there is no God : of whom it is said they call not 
 upon the Lord, which also may serve for a just 
 argument and proof of the point." 
 
 The Bay Psalm Book was now adopted and 
 was almost exclusively used in the New England 
 Churches. It passed through at least twenty- 
 seven editions by 1750. 
 
 The first American edition of Sternhold and 
 Hopkins's version was published at Cambridge in 
 1693. 
 
 Cotton Mather, in 1718, published a new literal 
 version of the Psalms — " The Psalterium Ameri- 
 canum," of which a notice will be found in the 
 account of that author. The Rev. Thomas Pri nee, 
 the antiquarian, revised the Bay Psalm Book 
 with care. It was published in 1758 and intro- 
 duced into the Old South Church, of which he 
 had been pastor, in October of that year, the 
 Sunday after his death. 
 
 Dr. Watts's Hymns were first published in 
 
18 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 England in 1707, and his Psalms in 1719. He 
 sent Specimens of them the year before to Cotton 
 Mather, who expressed his appro val. The Hymns 
 were first published in America by Dr. Franklin 
 in 1741, and the Psalms in the same year, in Bos- 
 ton. They did not come into general use till after 
 the Revolution. 
 
 Tate and Brady's version of the Psalms, pub- 
 lished in England at the close of the seventeenth 
 century, was not reprinted in America till 1741. 
 It furnished the material for the collection in use 
 by the Protestant Episcopal Church. 
 
 In 1752, the Eev. John Barnard, pastor at Mar- 
 blehead for fifty-four years, who lived in great 
 estimation for his high character to the. age of 
 eighty-eight, published a new version of the 
 Psalms based on the old Bay Psalm Book.* 
 
 NATHANIEL WAED. 
 
 J7Gt$nPimt$ 
 
 The most quaint and far-fetched in vigorous ex- 
 pression of the early political and religious tracts 
 generated in New England, is that piece of pedan- 
 tic growling at toleration, and pungent advice to 
 British Royalty, inclosing a satire on the fashiona- 
 ble ladies of the day, the production of Nathaniel 
 Ward, Pastor of the Church at Ipswich, which 
 is entitled the Simple Cooler of Ag amain. \ This 
 was written in America in 1645, when the author 
 was seventy -five. It has a home thrust or two 
 at the affairs and manners of the colony, showing 
 where it was written, but is mainly levelled at 
 the condition of England. The style is for the 
 most part very affected, " a Babylonish Dialect ;" 
 full of the coinage of new words, — ■ 
 
 Words so debas'd and hard, no stone 
 Was hard enough to touch them on — 
 
 passing, however, into very direct nervous Eng- 
 lish in the appeal to the King, then at war with 
 his subjects. 
 
 Theodore de la Guard, the name assumed by 
 the author, addresses his remarks " to his native 
 country." Ward was born in England in 1570, 
 at Haverhill, in Suffolk. His father Samuel, the 
 "painful minister" of that place, had four sons 
 in the Church, of whom, according to Dr. Fuller 
 in his " Worthies," people used to say that all of 
 them put together would not make up his abili- 
 
 *A History of Music in New England, by George Hood. 
 Boston : 1846. Much interesting matter has been collected by 
 Mr. Hood, who gives specimens of the writers. Moore's En- 
 cyclopasdia of Music and Psalmody. 
 
 tThe Simple Cobler of Aggawam in America, willing to help 
 'mend his native country, lamentably tattered, both in the 
 upper-leather and sole, with all the honest stitches he can 
 take. And as willing never to be paid for his work, by old 
 English wonted pay. 
 
 It is his trade to patch all the year long, gratis, 
 Therefore I pray, Gentlemen, keep yoiir purses. 
 
 By Theodore de la Guard. In rebus arduU ac tenui spe, 
 fortissimo, quaque consilia tutissima sunt. Cic. In English, 
 
 When bootes and shoes are torne up to the lefts, 
 Coblers must thrust their awls up to the hefts. 
 
 This is no time to feare ApcUes granvm : 
 Ne Sutor quid&m ultra crepidam. 
 
 London : Printed by J. D. & R. I. for Stephen Bowtell, at the 
 eigne of the Bible in Pope's Head Alley, 1647. 
 
 ties. Fuller has also preserved his Latin Epi- 
 taph : 
 
 Quo si quis scivit scitius, 
 
 Aut si quis docuit doctius ; 
 
 At rarus vixit sanctius, 
 
 Et nullus tonuit fortius : 
 
 and thus translated it : — 
 
 Grant some of knowledge greater 6tore, 
 
 More learned some in teaching; 
 Tet few in life did lighten more, 
 
 None thundered more in preaching. 
 
 In the library of the Mass. Historical Society 
 there is an old London quarto of the seventeenth 
 century, entitled " A Warning Piece to all Drunk- 
 ards and Health Drinkers," which contains a "col- 
 lection of some part of a Sermon long since 
 preached " by Mr. Samuel Ward, of Ipswich, en- 
 titled, A Wo to Drunkards. "He lived," con- 
 tinues this old writer, " in the days of famous King 
 James, and was like righteous Lot, whose soul was 
 vexed with the wicked conversation of the So- 
 domites. He published divers other good sermons. 
 His text was in Proverbs xxiii. 29, 32. To 
 lohom is woe t to whom is sorrow ? to whom is 
 strife ? In the end it will bite like a serpent, and 
 sting like a cockatrice, lie begins thus : 
 
 " Seer, art thou also drunk or asleep ? or hath a 
 spirit of slumber put out thine eyes? Up to thy 
 "watch-tower, what descriest thou ? Ah, Lord ! 
 what end or number is there of the vani- 
 ties which mine eyes are weary of beholding? 
 But what seest thou ? I see men -walking like the 
 tops of trees shaken with the wind, like, masts of 
 ships reeling on the tempestuous seas : drunkenness, 
 I mean, that hateful night bird ; which was wont 
 to wait for the twilight, to seek nooks and corners, 
 to avoid the howting and wonderment of boys and 
 girls ; now as if it were some eaglet, to dare the 
 sun-light, to fly abroad at high noon in every street, 
 in open markets and fairs, without fear or shame. 
 * * * Go to then now ye Drunkards, listen, not 
 what I or any ordinary hedge-priest (as j'ou style 
 us) but that most wise and experienced royal 
 preacher hath to say unto you. * * You promise 
 yourself mirth, pleasure and jollity in your cups ; 
 but for one drop of your mad mirth, be sure of gal- 
 lons and tons of woe, gall, wormwood and bitter- 
 ness, here and hereafter. Other sinners shall taste 
 of the cup, but you shall drink off the dregs of 
 God's wrath and displeasure. * * You pretend 
 you drink healths and for health ; but to whom are 
 all kind of diseases, infirmities, deformities, pearled 
 faces, palsies, dropsies, headaches, if not to drunk- 
 ards.' " 
 
 His son Nathaniel was educated at Cambridge, 
 was bred a lawyer, travelled on the Continent with 
 some merchants in Prussia and Denmark, becom- 
 ing acquainted with the learned theologue Pa- 
 rous at Heidelberg, and influenced by his au- 
 thority, devoted himself to divinity. Returning 
 to England he took orders and procured a parish 
 in Hertfordshire. He had some connexion with 
 the Massachusetts Company in 1629, got into 
 difficulty as a nonconformist in 1631, was si- 
 lenced as a preacher and came to America in the 
 summer of 1634, where he was set up as pastor 
 of the church at Ipswich, formerly the Indian 
 town of Agawam. He had John Norton, on his 
 arrival from England the next year, as his asso- 
 ciate. He soon after resigned this situation, and 
 
NATHANIEL WARD. 
 
 19 
 
 appears to have been clerical and political assistant 
 in general to the country. His legal training 
 enabled him to prepare a draft of laws, called 
 for by the people of the province, which was 
 more constitutional than the theocratical propo- 
 sitions of John Cotton. His suggestions were 
 mostly included in the code entitled "Body of 
 Liberties," of which he was the author. It was 
 the first code of laws established in New Eng- 
 land, being adopted in 1641. It is not to be 
 confounded with the "Abstract of Laws" pre- 
 pared by Cotton. Many of its provisions and 
 omissions are sagacious, and its statutes are 
 tersely worded. A manuscript copy of the 
 "Liberties" was some time since discovered by 
 Mr. Francis C. Gray, of Boston, who has pub- 
 lished tbe work in the Mass. Hist. Society Col- 
 lections, accompanied by a judicious review of 
 the early legislation.* Ward's Code exhibits, 
 he says, " throughout the hand of the practical 
 lawyer, familiar with the principles and securities 
 of English liberty ; and though it retains some 
 strong traces of the times, is in the main far in 
 advance of them, and in several respects in 
 advance of the Common Law of England at 
 this day." Ward returned to England, where, 
 shortly after his arrival in 1647, he published 
 The Simple Cobler, which he had written in 
 America. He obtained an English parish the 
 next year, at Shenfield in Essex, where he died in 
 1653. Fuller celebrates his reputation for wit in 
 England, as one who, " following the counsel of 
 the poet, 
 
 Ridentcm dicere varum, 
 
 Qui.? vctat? 
 
 What doth forbid but one may smile, 
 
 And also tell the truth the while ? 
 
 hath, in a jesting way, in some of his hooks, 
 delivered much smart truth of the present times.''t 
 Cotton Mather, in the Magnalia, has written the 
 life of his son who settled at Haverhill, on the 
 Merrimack, and has given a few lines to the 
 father's memory as " the author of many compo- 
 sures full of wit and sense ; among which, that 
 entituled The Simple Colder (which demonstrated 
 him to be a subtle statesman), was most consi- 
 dered ;" and in his Remarkables of his father, 
 Increase Mather, he alludes to Ward's hundred 
 witty speeches, with an anecdote of the inscrip- 
 tion over his mantelpiece, the four words en- 
 graved Sobrie, Juste, Pie, Lcete. 
 
 While looking over the notices of Ward which 
 remain, and which are not so many as could be 
 wished, it has been our good fortune to hold in 
 our hands the copy of The Simple Cobler which 
 belonged to Robert Southey, who, as is well 
 known, was a diligent reader and warm apprecia- 
 tor of the American Colonial history and records. 
 It is marked throughout with his peculiar pencil- 
 lings on the margin, of the following among other 
 fine passages : " the least truth of God's kingdom, 
 doth in its place uphold the whole kingdom of 
 his Truths ; take away the least vericulum out of 
 the world and it unworlds all potentially, and may 
 
 * Remarks on the Early Laws of Massachusetts Bay, with 
 the Code adopted in 164f, and called the Body of Liberties, 
 now first presented by F. C. Gray, LL.D., &c. Mass. Hist. 
 Soc. Coll., Third Series, viii. 191. 
 
 t Fuller's Worthies, Ed. 1850, iii. 1ST. 
 
 unravel the whole texture actually, if it "be not 
 conserved by an arm of extraordinary power" — 
 a sentence which has a very Coleridgean look. 
 Again, an illustration worthy of Milton: " Non 
 senescit Veritas. No man ever saw a gray hair 
 on the head or beard of any Truth, wrinkle or 
 morphew on its face : the bed of Truth is green 
 all the year long." This is very tersely expressed : 
 " It is a most toilsome task to run the wild goose 
 chase after a well-breath'd opinionist : they delight 
 in vitilitigation : it is an itch, that loves a life to 
 be scrub'd ; they desire not satisfaction, but satis- 
 diction, whereof themselves must be judges." In 
 these more earnest thoughts he rises beyond his 
 word-catching ; but one portion of his book is 
 very amusing in this way, that directed against 
 the fashionable ladies of the time. The Cobler 
 professes to be a solitary widower of twelve 
 years' standing, on the look-out for a mate, and 
 thinking of going to England for the purpose — 
 " but," says he, " when I consider how women 
 have tripe-wifed themselves with their cladments, 
 I have no heart to the vo,yage, lest their nauseous 
 shapes, and the sea, should work too sorely upon 
 my stomach. I speak sadly ; methinks it should 
 break the hearts of Englishmen to see so many 
 goodly English-women imprisoned in French 
 cages, peering out of their hood-holes for some 
 men of mercy to help them with a little wit, and 
 nobody relieves them." He tells us there are 
 " about five or six" specimens of the kind in the 
 colony: "if I see any of them accidentally, I 
 cannot cleanse my fancy of them for a month 
 after." On this matter the Cobler thus defines 
 his position : — " It is known more than enough, 
 that I am neither niggard nor cynic, to the due 
 bravery of the true gentry : if any man mislikes 
 a bully mong drosock more than I, let him take 
 her for his labour : I honour the woman that can 
 honour herself with her attire : a good text 
 always deserves a fair margent: I am not much 
 offended if I see a trim, tar trimmer than she 
 that wears it : in a word, whatever Christianity 
 or civility will allow, I can afford with London 
 measure: hut when I hear a nugiperous gentle- 
 dame inquire what dress the Queen is in this 
 week: what the nudiustertian fashion of the 
 court, I mean the very newest; with egg to he 
 in it in all haste, whatever it he ; I look at her as 
 the very gizzard of a trifle, the product of a quar- 
 ter of a cypher, the epitome of nothing, fitter to 
 be kickt, if she were of a kickable substance, than 
 either honour'd or humour'd." 
 
 Like most of the Puritans, Ward was a bit 
 of a poet, a cultivator of that crabbed muse 
 who frowned so often on such votaries. But 
 Ward was too sensitive a wit not to have suspi- 
 cion of his own verses, and says modestly and 
 truly enough of his attempts : — " I can impute it 
 to nothing, but to the flatuousness of our diet: 
 they are but sudden raptures, soon up, soon down." 
 Here are some lines for King Charles's considera- 
 tion which he appends to his book, and calls 
 " driving in half a dozen plain honest country 
 hobnails, such as the Martyrs were wont to 
 wear." 
 
 There, lives cannot be good, 
 There, faith cannot be sure, 
 
 Where truth cannot be quiet, 
 Nor ordinances pure. 
 
20 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 * No king can ting it right, 
 Nor rightly away his rod ; 
 Who truly loves not Christ, 
 And truly fears not God. 
 
 He cannot rule a land, 
 
 As lands should ruled been, 
 
 That lets himself be rul'd 
 By a ruling Roman Queen. 
 
 ISfo earthly man can be 
 
 True subject to this state ; 
 Who makes the Pope his Christ, 
 
 An heretique his mate. 
 
 There peace will go to war, 
 
 And silence make a noise: 
 Where upper things will not 
 
 With nether equipoise. 
 
 The upper world shall rule, 
 
 While stars will run their race : 
 
 The nether world obey, 
 
 While people keep their place.* 
 
 To which we may add Ms 
 
 PEEFATOBY LINES TO THE POEMB OF ANJfE BEADSTEEET. 
 
 Mercury shov/d Apollo, Bartas book, 
 
 Minerva this, and wish'd him well to look, 
 
 And tell uprightly, which did which excel: 
 
 He view'd and view'd, and vow'd he could not tell. 
 
 They bid him hemisphere his mouldy nose, 
 
 Witn's crack'd leering glasses, for it would pose 
 
 The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan, 
 
 Sex weigh'd, which best, the woman or the man? 
 
 He peer'd, and por'd, and glar'd, and said for wore, 
 
 I'm even as wise now, as I was before. 
 
 They both 'gan laugh, and said, it was no mar'l. 
 
 The auth'ress was a right Bit Bartas girl. 
 
 Good sooth, quoth the old Don, tell me ye so, 
 
 I muse whither at length these girls will go. 
 
 It half revives my chill frost-bitten blood, 
 
 To see a woman once do ought that's good ; 
 
 And chode by Chaucer's boots and Homer's furs, 
 
 Let men look to't, lest women wear the spurs. 
 
 Ward was also the author of a humorous sati- 
 rical address in 1648, to the London tradesmen 
 turned preachers, entitled Mercurius Anti-meclia- 
 nicus, or the Simple Cobler's Boy,i in which he 
 devotes twelve chapters of punning and exhorta- 
 tion to the Confectioner ; the Smith ; the Eight 
 and Left Shoe-Maker ; the Needless Tailor from 
 Ms working (im)posture ; the Saddler ; the Por- 
 ter; the Labyrinthian Box-maker; the All-be- 
 smearing Soap-boiler or the sleepy Sopor ; the 
 Both-handed Glover; the White-handed Meal- 
 man ; the Chicken-man ; and the Button-maker. 
 He extracts from each the quaint analogies and 
 provocations of his particular calling, running 
 riot in a profusion of puns and moralities, en- 
 grafted by his strong vigorous sense on Ms devo- 
 tional ardor, study of the times, and collegiate 
 
 * The Simple Cooler, in the old editions, is a scarce hook. 
 The old Boston reprint bears date 1713. It has been lately 
 republished by Munroe & Co. in 1S43, with an introductory 
 notice by David Pulsifer. There is an article on Ward in the 
 Monthly Anthology for May, 1319, from the pen of Dr. J. G. 
 Cogswell. 
 
 t Mercurius Anti-mechanicus, or the Simple Cobler's Boy. 
 With his Lap-fnil of Caveats (or Take heeds), Documents, Ad- 
 vertisements and Prcemonitions, to all his honest fellow- 
 tradesmen-Preachers, but more especially a dozen of them, in 
 or about the City of London. By Theodore de la Guarden. 
 London : Printed for John Walker, at the Sign of the Starre 
 In Pipes-head Alley. 1648. 
 
 classicahties. The Cobler's boy proves Mmself as 
 efficient at patching and mending souls as Ms sire. 
 His pulpit-confectioner he warns against that 
 "doctrine of indulgence," reminding Mm that 
 " we must not speak tMngs tooth-some but whole- 
 some." " Coloquintida," says he, " must usher 
 in ambrosia. Children would never eat so much 
 raw and forbidden fruit (to vermiculate their in- 
 trals) if they could but remember that ever since 
 Adam's time poma fuisse mala. If sugar-plums 
 lead the van, scouring pills will challenge the rear. 
 Too much diet-bread will bring a man to a diet 
 drink ; mack-roones will make room for (no good) 
 luxury. Marmalade may marre my Lady, me it 
 shall not. March pane shall not be my arch- 
 bane." He then utters a meditation " that spice 
 when it is bruised and small (being beat and heat), 
 it sends up a sweet savour into the nostrils of the 
 smiter: so a gracious man, the more his God 
 bruises and beats Mm by afflictions, the more 
 small he is broken in himself, the more fragrant 
 and ravishing odours he sends up to heaven. 
 The more the Lord brayes, the more he prayes." 
 He reminds the Smith not to have too many irons 
 in the fire, and that it is easier to make his anvil 
 groan than the hearts of his hearers. A seared 
 conscience, he says, " is like the smith's dog that 
 hath been so addicted to sleep under the very 
 anvil that no noise will convince Mm to an 
 awakening." The Cobler's boy is of course at 
 home with the shoe-maker, whom he warns "not 
 to go beyond his last by seeking to be one of the 
 first." The tailor's disposition, he sa} T s, " must be 
 not more cross than his legs or shears." From 
 the porter pursuing his trudging vocation abroad 
 he draws this quaint conclusion, "that he walks 
 abroad all day, but the evening brings him home : 
 many a prodigal roames abroad all the daj T of 
 prosperity ; but the night of adversity brings Mm 
 home to God. Therefore I shut up with an ad- 
 miring question thus, — What a strange owl-e3 - ed 
 creature is man, who (for the most part) finds the 
 way home best in the dark." The box-maker 
 naturally recalls to so ingenious a witted person 
 the pulpit : " but perhaps thou accountest a pulpit 
 a box, and I'll tell thee a brief story to that effect. 
 A little child being at a sermon and observing the 
 minister very vehement in his words and bodily 
 gesture, cried out, ' Mother, why don't the people 
 let the man out of the box?' Then I entreat 
 thee behave thyself well in preaching, lest men 
 say truly this is Jack in a box!" His Chicken- 
 man is to learn " that many men woodcock -like 
 live by their long bills." So he puns on through 
 over fifty pages of typographical eccentricities in 
 small quarto. He was a contemporary of Dr. 
 Thomas Fuller, the admirable wit and Church 
 historian, who we have seen appreciated him, 
 and has much in common with his genius, though 
 the one was suffering with the ecclesiastical esta- 
 blishment, wMch the other was bent upon de- 
 stroying. 
 
 JOHN COTTON.-JOHN NOET03ST. 
 Johtn" Cotton, " the great Cotton," whose general 
 amiability, piety, political influence, and pastoral 
 'fidelity are memorable in the New England 
 Churches, was born at Derby, in England, in 1585. 
 He was an eminent student, and a fellow of Cam- 
 
JOHN COTTON. 
 
 21 
 
 bridge, where he became a Puritan, and was after- 
 wards minister in Lincolnshire for twenty years, 
 bearing a high reputation for his personal worth 
 and his theological acumen, till a citation before 
 Laud's Ecclesiastical Court induced him to escape 
 prosecution in America, where he landed in 1633, 
 and was established the same year in the ministry 
 of the Boston Church, which he held nineteen years, 
 till his death in 1652. He was an ardent admirer 
 of church and state authority according to the 
 theocratic Mosaic dispensation of the Jews. In 
 1636, Cotton was appointed by the General Court 
 to prepare a scheme of laws for the government 
 of the colony. He performed the task, but his 
 work was not accepted, the " Body of Liberties," 
 by Ward, being preferred in its stead. Cotton's 
 "Abstract of the Laws of New England as they 
 are now established,"* was printed in London, in 
 1641, a book which has passed incorrectly for the 
 code in actual operation in New England. Heresy, 
 by these proposed laws, was punishable with death. 
 Scripture authorities were freely quoted, as, for 
 Bending out warrants for calling of the General 
 Court, Josh. xxiv. 1. 
 
 The ingenuity of Cotton was considerably taxed 
 in his controversy with Roger Williams, in his 
 attempts to reconcile the authority of the civil 
 power with rights of conscience. Williams had 
 charged him with "holding a bloody tenent of 
 persecution ;" when Cotton entitled his reply 
 The Bloody Tenent washed and made white in the 
 Blood of the Lamb,] to which Williams rejoined. 
 The controversy was conducted with much polemi- 
 cal acuteness on both sides. 
 
 In 1642, he published a tract on Set Forms of 
 Prayer,\ from which we may present a charac- 
 teristic passage : 
 
 In ease a distressed soul do meet with a prayer 
 penned by a godly and well-experienced Christian, 
 and do find his own case pithily and amply deci- 
 phered and anatomized therein, we deny not but his 
 heart and affections may go along with it, and say 
 
 * This la reprinted in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, v. 
 178, and sequel. In 1655, after Cotton's death, this was pub- 
 lished in London in a complete form by William Aspinwall, as 
 "collected and digested into the ensuing method by that godly 
 grave and judicious divine Mr. John Cotton of Boston in 
 New England, in his lifetime, and presented to the General 
 Court of Massachusetts." See F. C. Gray's review of the 
 matter, Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Third Series, viii. 192, 8. 
 
 t The Bloody Tenent, washed and made white in the Blood 
 of the Lamb: being discussed and discharged of blood-guilti- 
 ness by just defence. Wherein the great questions of this 
 present time are handled, viz. How farre liberty of conscience 
 ought to be given to those that truly fear God? And how fane 
 restrained to turbulent and pestilent persons, that not only 
 raze the foundation of godliness, but disturb the Civil Peace 
 where they live? Also how f.irre the magistrate may proceed 
 in the duties of the firstTnblo? And that all magistrates ought 
 to study the word and will of God, that they may frame their 
 government according to it. Discussed as they are alledged 
 from various Scriptures, out of the Old and New Testaments. 
 Wherein also the practice of Princes is debated, together with 
 the judgment of ancient and late writers of most precious 
 esteem. Whereunto is added a Reply to Mr. Williams' An- 
 swer to Mr. Cotton's Letter. By John Cotton, Batchelor in 
 Divinity, and Teacher of the Church of Christ at Boston, in 
 New England. London: Printed bv Matthew Svmmons, for 
 Hannah Allen, at the Ciowne in Pope's-Head Alley, 1(H7. 4to. 
 Pp. 105, 144. 
 
 t From a modest and clear Answer to Mr. Ball's Discourse 
 of Set Form* of Prayer, set forth in a most seasonable time, 
 when this kingdom is now in consultation about matters of 
 that nature, and so many godly long after the resolution in 
 that point. Written by the Reverend and learned John Cot- 
 ton. B.D., and Teacher of the Church of Christ, at Boston in 
 NewEngland. London: Printed bv E. O.anrt G.D , for Henry 
 Overton, in Pope's Head Alley. 1642. 4to. pp. 51. 
 
 Amen to it, and thus far may find it a lawful help 
 to him ; but if you set apart such a prayer to sup- 
 port him as a crutch in his prayers (as without 
 which he cannot walk straight and upright in that 
 duty), or if he that penned that prayer, or others 
 that have read it, do enjoin it upon him, and forbid 
 him to pray (and especially with others), unless he 
 use that form, this, instead of a crutch, will prove a 
 cudgell, to break the bones of the spirit in prayer, 
 and force him to halt in worshipping God after the 
 precepts of men ; as it hath been said before, so it 
 may be again remembered here ; a man may help 
 his spirit in meditation of his mortality, by behold- 
 ing a dead man's scalp cast in his way, by God's 
 providence ; but if he should set apart a death's 
 head, or take it up as enjoined to him by others, 
 never to meditate or confer with others about his 
 mortality, and estate of another life, but in the sight 
 and use of the death's head, such a soul shall find 
 but a dead heart, and a dead devotion from such a 
 means of mortification ; if 6ome forms of prayer, 
 especially such as gave occasion to this dispute, do 
 now seem to be as bread to the hungry, we say no 
 more but this: then hungry souls will never be 
 starved, that never want store of such like bread as 
 this is. 
 
 Cotton's Keys of the kingdom of Heaven and 
 Power thereof exhibits his system of church go- 
 vernment.* He published numerous discourses 
 and religious treatises of a practical and expository 
 character, from a catechism to sermons on the 
 Revelations, beside his controversial religious and 
 political writings. The titles of some of these 
 writings are in the quaint style of the times, as his 
 Mills for Babes, a Catechism, and his Meat for 
 Strong Men, which was an exposition of civil 
 government in a plantation founded with religious 
 motives. 
 
 f Co(6c 
 
 o-n, 
 
 Like most of the old New England divines, 
 he could on occasion turn his hand to verse. 
 A specimen of this kind has been preserved in 
 Secretary Morton's "New England's Memorial." 
 
 ON MY REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER, MR. THOMAS HOOKER, 
 LATE CASTOR OF THE CHURCH AT HARTFORD ON CONNECTICUT. 
 
 To see three things was holy Austin's wish, 
 Rome in her flower, Christ Jesus in the flesh, 
 And Paul i' the Pulpit : lately men might see, 
 Two first, and more, in Hooker's ministry. 
 
 Zion in beauty, is a fairer sight, 
 
 Than Rome in flower, with all her glory dight: 
 
 Yet Zion's beauty did most clearly shine 
 
 In Hooker's rule and doctrine ; both divine. 
 
 Christ in the spirit is more than Christ in flesh, 
 Our souls to quicken, and our states to bless 
 Yet Christ in spirit brake forth mightily, 
 In faithful Hooker's searching ministry. 
 
 Paul in the pulpit, Hooker could not reach, 
 Yet diil he Christ in spirit so livelv preach 
 That living hearers thought he did inherit 
 A double portion of Paul's lively spirit. 
 
 *The Keys of tbe Kingdom of Heaven and Power thereof, 
 according to the word of God. by that Learned and Judicious 
 Divine, Mr. John Cotton, Teacher of the Church at Boston, in 
 New England, tending to reconcile some present differences 
 about discipline, was published in London in 1644. with a pre- 
 liminary address to the Reader, by Thomas Goodwin and 
 Philip Nye. members of the .Westminster Assembly. It was 
 reprinted by Tappan & Dennet, Boston, 1843. 
 
22 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE. 
 
 Prudent in rule, in argument quick, full ; 
 Fervent in prayer, in preaching powerful ; 
 That well did learned Ames record bear, 
 The like to him he never wont to hear. 
 
 'Twas of Geneva's worthies said, with wonder, 
 (Those worthies three) Farell was wont to thunder ; 
 Viret, like rain, on tender grass to shower; 
 But Calvin, lively oracles to pour. 
 
 All these in Hooker's spirit did remain, 
 A son of thunder, and a shower of rain, 
 A pourer forth of lively oracles, 
 In saving souls, the sum of miracles. 
 
 Now blessed Hooker, thou art set on high, 
 Above the thankless world, and cloudy sky; 
 Do thou of all thy labour reap the crown, 
 Whilst we here reap the seed which thou hast sown. 
 
 to which we may add from John Norton's life, 
 "A taste of the Divine Soliloquies between God 
 and his Soul, from these two transcribed poems 
 left behind him in his study, written with his own 
 hand. The one entituled thus,"' — 
 
 A THANKFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF GOD'S PEOVTDENCE. 
 
 In mother's womb thy fingers did me make 
 And from the womb thou didst me safely take : 
 From breast thou hast me nurst my life throughout, 
 That I may say I never wanted ought. 
 
 In all my meals my table thou hast spread, 
 In all my lodgings thou hast made my bed : 
 Thou hast me clad with changes of array, 
 And chang'd my house for better far away. 
 
 In youthful wandrings thou didst stay my slide, 
 In all my jouruies thou hast been my Guide: 
 Thou hast me sav'd from many an unknown danger, 
 And shew'd me favour, even where I was a stranger. 
 
 In both my callings thou hast heard my voice, 
 In both my matches thou hast made my choice: 
 Thou gav'st me sons, and daughters, them to peer, 
 An d giv'st me hope thou'lt learn them thee to fear. 
 
 Oft have I seen thee look with Mercy's face, 
 
 And through thy Christ have felt thy saving grace. 
 
 This is the Heav'n on Earth, if any be : 
 
 For this, and all, my soul doth worship Thee. 
 
 "Another poem, made by Mr. Cotton (as it 
 seemeth), upon his removal from Boston to this 
 wilderness :" 
 
 I now may expect some changes of miseries, 
 
 Since God hath made me sure 
 That himself by them all will purge mine iniquities, 
 
 As fire makes silver pure. 
 
 Then what though I find the deep deceitfuluess 
 
 Of a distrustful heart! 
 Tet I know with the Lord is abundant faithfulness, 
 
 He will uot lose his part. 
 
 When I think of the sweet and gracious company 
 
 That at Boston once I had, 
 And of the long peace of a fruitful Ministry 
 
 For twenty years enjoy'd : 
 
 The joy that I found in all that happiness 
 
 Doth still so much refresh me, 
 That the grief to be cast out into a wilderness 
 
 Doth not so much distress me. 
 
 For when God saw his people, his own at our town, 
 
 That together they could not hit it, 
 But that they had learned the language of Askelon, 
 
 And one with another could chip it. 
 
 He then saw it time to send in a busy Elf, 
 
 A Joyner to take them asunder, 
 That so they might learn each one to deny himself, 
 
 And so to peece together. 
 
 When the breach of their bridges, and all their 
 banks arow, 
 And of him that school teaches; 
 When the breach of the Plague, and of their Trade 
 also 
 Could not learn them to see their breaches. 
 
 Then God saw it time to break out on their Minis- 
 ters, 
 
 By loss of health and peace ; 
 Tea, withall to break in upon their Magistrates, 
 
 That so their pride might cease. 
 
 Cotton Mather has written his life in the 
 Magnalia, with great unction and many puns. 
 " If Boston," says he, " be the chief seat of New 
 England, it was Cotton that was the father 
 and glory of Boston," in compliment, by the way, 
 to whose Lincolnshire residence the city was 
 named, and he celebrates the divines who came 
 with him in the ship from England : — " Mr. Cot- 
 ton, Mr. Hooker, and Mr. Stone, which glorious 
 triumvirate coming together, made the poor peo- 
 ple in the wilderness, at their coming, to say, that 
 the God of heaven had supplied them with what 
 would in some sort answer their three great 
 necessities: Cotton for their clothing, Hooker 
 for their fishing, and Stone for their building.'" 
 
 One of Mather's conceits in this " Life" is worthy 
 of Dr. Fuller ; it has a fine touch of imagination. 
 "Another time, when Mr. Cotton had modestly 
 replied unto one that would much talk and crack 
 of his insight into the Revelations ; " Brother, I 
 must confess myself to want light in those mys- 
 teries :" — the man went home and sent him a 
 pound of candles ; upon which action this good 
 man bestowed only a silent smile. He would not 
 set the beacon of his great soul on fire at the land- 
 ing of such a little cocJcboat." 
 
 Mather quotes the funeral eulogy on Cotton 
 written by Benjamin Woodbridge,* the first gradu- 
 ate of Harvard, which was probably read by 
 Franklin before he wrote the famous typographi- 
 cal epitaph on himself : 
 
 A living, breathing Bible ; tables where 
 Both covenants, at large, engraven were; 
 Gospel and law, in's heart, had each its column ; 
 His head an index to the sacred volume ; 
 His very name a title-page ; and next, 
 His life a commentary on the text. 
 0, what a monument of glorious worth, 
 When, in a new edition, he comes forth, 
 Without erratas, may we think he'll be 
 In leaves and covers of eternity ! 
 
 It was to Cotton New England was indebted 
 for the custom of commencing the Sabbath on 
 Saturday evening. " The Sabbath," says Mather, 
 "he began the evening before: for which keep- 
 ing of the Sabbath, from evening to evening, he 
 wrote arguments before coming to New England : 
 
 * The- Rev. Benjamin Woodbridge, the first graduate from 
 Harvard College (1642), was born in 1622. He returned to Eng- 
 land and preached at Newbury, Berks, with reputation as a 
 scholar and orator. In 1662 he was ejected, but by particular 
 favor of the king, by whom he was highly esteemed, was al- 
 lowed to preach privately. He died at Inglefield, Berks, 16S4. 
 A few of his sermons were published. 
 
JOHN COTTON. 
 
 23 
 
 and, I suppose, 'twas from his reason and practice 
 that the Christians of New England have gene- 
 rally done so too." 
 
 The life of Cotton was also written by his succes- 
 sor in the Church at Boston, John Norton", an 
 English curate, who came to America and was set- 
 fled as the colleague of Ward at Ipswich. While 
 at the latter place, he acquired distinguished litera- 
 ry reputation by the elegant latinity of his Answer 
 . to Apollonius, the pastor of the Church in Mid- 
 dlebury, who, at the request of the divines of 
 Zealand, had sent over various questions on 
 Church Government to the clergy of New Eng- 
 land. Of this work, published in London in 
 164S, Dr. Thomas Fuller, that warm appreciator 
 of character, says in his Church h^tory,* of his 
 inquiries into the tenets of the Congregatioualists, 
 " that of all the authors I have perused concern- 
 ing the opinions of these Dissenting Brethren, 
 none to me was more informative than Mr. John 
 Norton (one of no less learning than modesty), 
 minister in New England, in his answer to Apol- 
 lonius." Norton, in his services to the state, was 
 charged with a delicate commission from the Pu- 
 ritans of New England to address bis Majesty 
 Charles II. on the Restoration. He died suddenly 
 in 1663, shortly after his return from this em- 
 bassy. 
 
 Norton's Life and Death of that deservedly 
 famous Man of God, Mr. John Cotton^ shows a 
 scholar's pen as well as the emotion of the divine, 
 and the warm heart of the friend. It abounds 
 with those quaint learned illustrations which 
 those old preachers knew how to employ so well, 
 and which contrast so favorably with the gene- 
 rally meagre style of the pulpit of the present day. 
 Thus, in introducing Cotton on the stage of life, 
 be treats us to a quaint and poetical essay on 
 youthful education. " Though vain man would 
 be wise, yet may he be compared to the cub, as 
 well as the wild asses' colt. Now we know the 
 bear when she bringeth forth her young ones, 
 they are an ill favored lump, a mass without 
 shape, but by continual licking, they are brought 
 to some form. Children are called infants of the 
 palms (Lam. ii. 20), or educations, not because 
 they are but a span in length, but because the 
 midwife, as soon as they are born, stretcheth out 
 their joints with her hand, that they may be more 
 straight afterwards." A conceit is not to be re- 
 jected by these old writers, come from what 
 quarter it may ; as George Herbert says — 
 
 All things are big with jest: nothing that's plain 
 But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. 
 
 Here is something in another way : " Three in- 
 gredients Aristotle requires to complete a man, 
 an innate excellency of wit, instruction, and 
 government ; the two first we have by nature, in 
 them man is instrumental ; the first we have by 
 nature more immediately from God. This native 
 aptitude of mind, which is indeed a peculiar gift 
 of God, the naturabst calls the sparklings and 
 
 * Book xi. sec. 51, 2. 
 
 t Abel being dead yet speaketh ; or the Life and Death of 
 that deservedly famous man of God, Mr. John Cotton, late 
 teacher of the Church of Christ, at Boston, in New England. 
 By John Norton, teacher of the same church. London : Tho. 
 Newcomb. 1658. 4to. pp. 51. This work is dated by the 
 author, Boston, Nov. 6, 1657. 
 
 seeds of virtue, and looks at them as the prin- 
 ciples and foundations of better education. These 
 the godly-wise advise such to whom the inspec- 
 tion of youth is committed, to attend to, as spring 
 masters were wont to male a trial of tlie virtue 
 latent in waters, by the morning vapors that 
 ascend from them;" and in a marginal reference 
 be quotes Clemens Alexandrinus, " Animi nostri 
 sunt agi-i animatiy " Idleness in youth," he 
 says, " is scarcely healed without a scar in age." 
 When be arrives at Cotton's distinguished college 
 years, be has this picture of a student's bfe. 
 
 He is now in the place of improvement, amongst 
 his KpaniWot, beset with examples, as so many objects 
 of better emulation. If he slacken his pace, his 
 compeers will leave him behind ; and though he 
 quicken it, there are still those which are before. 
 Notwithstanding Themistocles excelleth, yet the tro- 
 phies of MUtiades suffer him not to sleep. Cato, 
 that Hclluo, that devourer of books, is at Athens. 
 Ability and opportunity are now met together; 
 unto both which industry actuated with a desire to 
 know, being joined, bespeaks a person of high ex- 
 pectation. The unwearied pains of ambitious and 
 unquiet wits, are amongst the arrangements of ages. 
 Asia and Egypt can hold the seven wonders ; but 
 the books, works, and motions of ambitious minds, 
 the whole world cannot contain. It was an illicit 
 aspiring after knowledge, which helped to put forth 
 Eve's hand unto the forbidden fruit : the less mar- 
 vel if irregenerate and unelevated wits have placed 
 their summum bonum in knowledge, indefatigably 
 pursuing it as a kind of deity, as a thing ruinous, 
 yea, as a kind of mortal-immortality. Diogenes, 
 Democritus, and other philosophers, accounting large 
 estates to be an impediment to their proficiency in 
 knowledge, dispossessed themselves of rich inherit- 
 ances, that they might be the fitter students ; pre- 
 ferring an opportunity of study before a large patri- 
 mony. Junius, yet ignorant of Christ, can want Ins 
 country, necessaries, and many comforts; but he 
 must excel. " Through desire a man having sepa- 
 rated himself, seeketh and intermeldleth with all 
 wisdom," Prov. xviii. 1. The elder Plinius lost his 
 life in venturing too near to search the cause of the 
 irruption of the hill Vesuvius. It is true, knowledge 
 excelleth other created excellences, as much as life 
 excelleth darkness; yet it agreeth with them in 
 this, that neither can exempt the subject thereof 
 from eternal misery. Whilst we seek knowledge 
 with a selfish interest, we serve the decree ; and 
 self being destroyed according to the decree, we 
 hence become more able to serve the command. 
 
 Cotton was on one occasion a correspondent of 
 Cromwell, on an appbeation in 1651 for the en- 
 couragement of the Gospel in New England. 
 The reply of the Lord Protector — For my esteemed 
 Friend, Mr. Cotton, Pastor of the Church at Bos- 
 ton, in New England : These — is characteristic of 
 his bewildered dogmatic godliness. " What is the 
 Lord adoing ? What prophecies are now fulfilling? 
 Indeed, my dear Friend, between you and me, 
 you know not me," and the like. Carlyle, in his 
 Oliver Cromwell, has printed the letter and pre- 
 faced it with this recognition of the old divine — 
 " Reverend John Cotton is a man still held in 
 some remembrance among our New England 
 Friends. A painful Preacher, oracular of high 
 Gospels to New England ; who in his day was 
 well seen to be connected with the Supreme Pow- 
 ers of this Universe, the word of him being as a 
 
24 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 live-coal to the hearts of many. lie died some 
 years afterwards ; — was thought, especially on 
 his deathbed, to have manifested gifts even of 
 Prophecj', — -a thing not inconceivable to the 
 human mind that well considers Prophecy and 
 John Cotton."* 
 
 THOMAS HOOKEE. 
 
 7T U^ 
 
 fc^. 
 
 Thomas Hookee was born at Marfield, Leices- 
 tershire, in 1586. He was educated at Cam- 
 bridge, became a fellow of Emanuel college, and, 
 on leaving the university, a popular preacher 
 in London. In 1626 he removed to Chelms- 
 ford, Essex. After officiating as "lecturer" for 
 four years in this place, in consequence of non- 
 conformity with the established church he was 
 obliged to discontinue preaching, and, by request, 
 opened a school, in which he employed John 
 Eliot, afterwards the Apostle to the Indians, as 
 his usher. He not long after went over to Hol- 
 land, where he remained three years, preaching 
 at Amsterdam and Rotterdam. He then emi- 
 grated to Massachusetts, arriving at Boston, with 
 Mr. Cotton and Mr. Stone, Sept, 4, 1633, and be- 
 came the pastor of the congregation at Newtown, 
 or Cambridge, with Mr. Stone as his assistant. 
 " Such multitudes," says Cotton Mather, " flocked 
 over to New England after them that the planta- 
 tion of Newtown became too straight for them," 
 and in consequence Hooker, with one hundred of 
 his followers, penetrated through the wilderness 
 to the banks of the Connecticut, where they 
 founded Hartford. A difference of opinion on 
 minor points of church government with his 
 clerical associates had its share in effecting this 
 removal. Neither distance nor difference, how- 
 ever, led to any suspension of friendly intercourse, 
 Hooker occasionally visiting and preaching in 
 Massachusetts Bay, where he was always re- 
 ceived by admiring crowds. 
 
 "With the exception of these visits, the remain- 
 der of his life was spent at the colony he had 
 founded. He enjoyed throughout his career a 
 great reputation as a pulpit orator, and several 
 stories are told by Mather of wonders wrought 
 by his prayers and sennons. On one occasion, 
 while preaching in " the great church of Leices- 
 ter (England), one of the chief burgesses in the 
 town much opposed his preaching there; and 
 when he could not prevail to hinder it, he set 
 certain fidlers at work to disturb him in the 
 church porch or churchyard. But such was the 
 vivacity of Mr. Hooker, as to proceed in what he 
 was about, without either the damping of his 
 mind or the drowning of his voice ; whereupon 
 the man himself went unto the church door to 
 overhear what he said," with such good result 
 that he begged pardon for his offence, and became 
 a devout Christian. His bearing was so dignified 
 that it was said of him, "he coidd put a king in 
 his pocket." 
 
 His charities were as liberal as his endowments. 
 
 * Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, with Elucidations, 
 i. 8. 
 
 He frequently bestowed large sums on widows 
 and orphans, and on one occasion when there 
 was a scarcity at Southampton, on Long Island, 
 joined with a few others in despatching "a whole 
 bark's load of corn of many hundred bushels " to 
 the relief of the place. 
 
 I 
 
 Hooker's Residence at Hartford. 
 
 "He would say," remarks Mather, "that he 
 should esteem it a favor from God, if he might 
 live no longer than he should be able to hold up 
 lively in the work of his place ; and that when 
 the time of his departure should come, God would 
 shorten the time, and he had his desire." A few 
 days' illness brought him to his deathbed. His 
 last words were in reply to one who said to him, 
 " Sir, you are going to receive the reward of all 
 your labors," " Brother, I am going to receive 
 mercy." A little after he closed his eyes with 
 his own hands, " and expired his blessed sold into 
 the arms of his fellow-servants, the holy angels;" 
 on July 7, 1647. 
 
 Two hundred of his manuscript sermons were 
 sent to England by John Higginson, the minister 
 of Salem, himself a man of some literature, who 
 died in 1708, at the extreme age of ninety-two 
 years, seventy-two of which he had passed in the 
 ministry.* Nearly one hundred of these sermons 
 were published ; and he was also the author of 
 several tracts, and of a Survey of the Sum of 
 Cliurch Discipline, which was published in Lon- 
 don, 1648, under the care of Dr. Thomas Good- 
 win, who declares that to praise either author or 
 work, " were to lay paint upon burnished marble, 
 or add light unto the sun."t 
 
 The Application of Redemptionoy tlie Effectual 
 Work of the Word and Spirit of Christ, for the 
 Bringing Home of Lost Sinners to God, which 
 was printed from the author's papers, written 
 with his own hand, and attested to be such in an 
 epistle by Thomas Goodwin and Philip Nye, had 
 reached a second edition in London in 1659. It 
 
 * His associate at Salem. Nicholas Noyes, wrote an elegy on 
 him, in which he says quaintly : 
 
 For rich array cared not a fig, 
 And wore Elisha's periwig. 
 At ninety-three had comely face, 
 Adorned with majesty and grace." 
 Before he went among the dead. 
 He children's children's children had. 
 Noyes published an Election Sermon, 1698 ; a poem on the 
 Death of Joseph Green, of Salem. 1715: and appears among 
 the commendatory poets of the Magnalia. — Allen's Biog. Diet 
 t Allen's Biog. Diet. 
 
JOHN WINTHROP. 
 
 25 
 
 is a compact small quarto of seven hundred pages, 
 exhibiting his practical divinity in the best man- 
 ner of the Puritan school. One of his most popu- 
 lar works was The Poor Doubting Christian 
 drawn to Christ ; a seventh edition was pub- 
 lished in Boston, 1743. 
 
 FROM TIIE APPLICATION OF REDEMPTION. 
 
 Follow sin by the fruits of it, as by the bloody 
 footsteps, and see what havoc it makes in every 
 place wherever it eoines: go to the prisons, and see 
 so many malefactors in irons, so many witches in 
 the dungeon ; these are the fruits of sin ; look aside, 
 and there you shall see one drawn out of the pit 
 where he was drowned; cast your eye but hard by, 
 and behold another lying weltering in his blood, the 
 knife in his throat, and his hand at the knife, and 
 his own hands become his executioner; thence go to 
 the place of execution, and there you 6hall hear 
 many prodigal and rebellious children and servants 
 upon the ladder, leaving the last remembrance of 
 their untimely death, which their distempers have 
 brought about. I was born in a good place where 
 the gospel was preached with plainness and power, 
 lived under godly masters and religious parents; a 
 holy and tender-hearted mother I had, many prayers 
 she made, tears she wept for me, and those have met 
 me often in the dark in my dissolute courses, but I 
 never had a heart to hear and receive. All you 
 stubborn and rebellious, hear and fear, and learn by 
 my harms; hasten from theuce into the wilderness, 
 and see Corah, Dathan, and Abiram going down 
 quick to hell, and all the people flying and crying 
 lest we perish also ; Lo, this rebellion hath brought ; 
 Turn aside but to the Red sea, and behold all the 
 Egyptians dead upon the shore; and ask who slew 
 them? and the story will tell you a stubborn heart 
 was the cause of their direful confusion : From 
 thence send your thoughts to the cross where our 
 Saviour was crucified, he who bears up heaven and 
 earth with his power, and behold those bitter and 
 brinish tears, and hideous' cries, My God, my God, 
 why hast Thou forsaken me? And make but a peep- 
 hole into hell, and lay your ear and listen to those 
 veilings of the devils and damned, cursing the day 
 that ever they were born, the means that ever they 
 enjoyed, the mercies that ever they did receive, the 
 worm there gnawing, and never dies, the fire there 
 burning, and never goes out, and know this sin hath 
 done, and it will do so to all that love it and live in 
 it. 
 
 FROM THE DOUBTING CHRISTIAN DRAWN TO CHRIST. 
 
 Many a poor soul mourns and cries to heaven for 
 mercy, and prays against a stubborn, hard heart, 
 and is weary of his life, because this vile heart 
 remains yet in him; and yet haply gets little or no 
 redress. The reason is, and the main wound lies 
 here, he goes the wrong way to work ; for, he that 
 would have grace must (first of all) get Faith, Faith 
 will bring all the rest : buy the field and the pearl 
 is thine; it goes with the purchase. Thou must 
 not think with thine own struggling to get the mas- 
 tery of a proud heart; for that will not do: Dut let 
 thy faith go first to Christ, and try what that can 
 do. There are many graces necessary in this work ; 
 as meekness, patience, humility, and wisdom: Now 
 faith will fetch all these, and possess the soul of 
 them. Brethren, therefore if you set any price upon 
 these graces, buy the field, labor for faith ; get that 
 and you get all. The apostle saith, 2 Cor. iii. 18: 
 We all with open face beholding, as in a glass, the 
 glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, 
 from glory to glory. The Lord Christ is the glass, 
 and the glorious grace of God in Christ, is that 
 
 glory of the Lord : Therefore, first behold this grace 
 in Christ by faith (and thou must do so before thou 
 canst receive grace). First, see humility in Christ, 
 and then fetch it thence: First see strength and 
 courage in him, whereby to enable thy weak heart, 
 and strength will come ; there fetch it, and there 
 have it. Would you then have a meek, gracious, 
 and humble heart? I dare say for some of you that 
 you had rather have it than anything under heaven, 
 and would think it the best bargain that ever you 
 made ; which is the cause why you say, " Oh, that 
 I could once see that day, that this proud heart of 
 mine might be humbled : Oh, if I could see the last 
 blood of my sins, I should then think myself happy, 
 none more, and desire to live no longer." But is 
 this thy desire, poor soul? Then get faith, and so 
 buy the whole, for they all go together: Nor think 
 to have them upon any price, not having faith. I 
 mean patience, and meekness, and the humble 
 heart: But buy faith, the field, and you have the 
 pearl. Further, would you have the glory of God 
 in your eye, and be more heavenly minded? Then 
 look to it, and get it by the eye of faith : Look up 
 to it in the face of Jesus Christ, and then you shall 
 see it; and then hold you there: For there, and 
 there only, this vision of the glory of God is to be 
 seen, to your everlasting peace and endless condbrt. 
 AVhen men use to make a purchase, they speak of 
 all the commodities of it, as, there is so much 
 wood, worth so much ; and so much stock, worth so 
 much; and then they offer for the whole, answer- 
 able to these severals, So here; there is item for 
 an heavenly mind, and that's worth thousands; and, 
 item for an humble heart, and that's worth millions: 
 and so for the rest. And are those graces so much 
 worth? What is faith worth then ? Hence we may 
 conclude and say, Oh, precious faith! precious in- 
 deed, that is able, through the spirit of Christ, to 
 bring so many, nay, all graces with it: As one de- 
 gree of grace after another, grace here and happi- 
 ness for ever hereafter. If we have but the hearts 
 of men (I do not say of Christians) me thinks this 
 that is spoken of faith should provoke us to labor 
 always, above all things, for this blessed grace of 
 God, the grace of faith. 
 
 JOHN WINTHROP, 
 
 TrrE first Governor of Massachusetts, was de- 
 scended from a highly honorable English family, 
 and born at the family seat at Groton, county 
 of Suffolk, January 12, 1587.* His father, Adam 
 Winthrop, was an accomplished lawyer; and the 
 following, from his pen, reprinted in the Massa- 
 chusetts Historical Society Collections, shows him 
 to have been possessed of poetic feeling. 
 
 VERSES MADE TO THE LADIE MILDMAY AT YE BIRTH OF HER 
 SONNE HENERY. 
 
 Madame: I mourn not like the swan 
 That ready is to die, 
 But with the Phoenix I rejoice, 
 When she in fire doth fry. 
 
 My soul doth praise the Lord, 
 
 And magnify his name. 
 For this sweet child which in your womb 
 
 He did most finely frame. 
 
 And on a blessed day 
 
 Hath made him to be born, 
 That with his gifts of heavenly grace, 
 
 His soul he might adorn. 
 
 * Mather (Magnalin, Ed. 1^53, i- 119) has it June, and Is fol- 
 lowed by Eliot January is the true date from the family 
 record. 
 
26 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 God grant him happy days, 
 In joy and peace to live, 
 
 And more of his most blessed fruit 
 He unto you do give. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 VEIISES TO HER SON. 
 
 Ah, me ! what do I mean 
 To take my pen in hand ? 
 
 More meet it were for me to rest, 
 And silent still to stand. 
 
 For pleasure take I none 
 
 In any worldly thing, 
 But evermore methinks I hear 
 
 My fatal bell to ring. 
 
 Yet when the joyful news 
 
 Did come unto my ear, 
 That God had given to her a so;), 
 
 Who is my nephew dear, 
 
 My heart was filled with joy, 
 
 My spirits revived all, 
 And from my old and barren brain 
 
 These verses rude did fall 
 
 Welcome, sweet babe, thou art 
 
 Unto thy parents dear, 
 Whose hearts thou filled hast with joy, 
 
 As well it doth appear. 
 
 The day even of thy birth, 
 
 When light thou first didst see, 
 
 Foresheweth that a joyful life 
 Shall happen unto thee. 
 
 For blessed is that day, 
 
 And to be kept in mind ; 
 On which our Saviour Jesus Christ 
 
 Was born to save mankind. 
 
 Grow up, therefore, in grace, 
 
 And fear his holy name, 
 Who in thy mother's secret womb 
 
 Thy members all did frame, 
 
 And gave to thee a soul, 
 
 Thy body to sustain, 
 Which, when this life shall ended be, 
 
 In heaven with him shall reign. 
 
 Love him with all thy heart, 
 And make thy parents glad, 
 
 As Samuel did, whom of the Lord 
 His mother Anna had. 
 
 God grant that they may live 
 
 To see from thee to spring 
 Another like unto thyself, 
 
 Who may more joy them bring. 
 
 And from all wicked ways, 
 
 That godless men do trace, 
 Pray daily that he will thee keep 
 
 By his most mighty grace. 
 
 That when thy days shall end, 
 
 In his appointed time 
 Thou mayest yield up a blessed soul, 
 
 Defiled with no crime. 
 
 And to thy mother dear 
 
 Obedient be, and kind; 
 Give ear unto her loving word3, 
 
 And print them in thy mind. 
 
 Thy father also love, 
 And willingly obey, 
 
 That thou mayst long possess those lands 
 Which he must leave one day.* 
 
 The son was, though inclined to the study of 
 theology, also bred to the law, and at the early 
 age of eighteen was made a justice of the peace. 
 He discharged the duties of this responsible post 
 in an exemplary manner, and in his private 
 capacity was celebrated for his piety and hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 Usypl4? 
 
 S?o, 
 
 He was chosen leader of the colony formed 
 in England to proceed to Massachusetts Bay, 
 and, having converted an estate yielding an in- 
 come of six or seven hundred pounds into 
 cash, left England, and landed at Salem, June 
 12, 1630. Within five days he made, with a few 
 companions, a journey of twenty miles through 
 the forest, which resulted in the selection of the 
 peninsula of Shawmut as the site of Boston. 
 During the first winter, the colonists suffered 
 severely from cold and hunger. The Governor 
 endured his share of privation with the rest, liv- 
 ing on acorns, ground-nuts, and shellfish. He 
 devoted himself with unsparing assiduity to the 
 good of the commonwealth, and was annually 
 elected Governor until 1634, and afterwards from 
 1637 to 1640, 1642 to 1644, and 1648 to his 
 death, which occurred in consequence of a cold, 
 followed by a fever, March 26, 1649. His ad- 
 ministration of the government was firm and 
 decided, and sometimes exposed him to tempo- 
 rary unpopularity. He bore opposition with 
 equanimity, and served the state as faithfully in 
 an inferior official or private position as when at 
 its head. He opposed the doctrines of Anne 
 Hutchinson and her followers, and was active in 
 their banishment, but at the same time used his 
 influence in the synod called to consider their 
 doctrines, in favor of calm discussion and cool 
 deliberation. 
 
 His private character was most amiable. On 
 one occasion, having received an angry letter, 
 he sent it back to the writer with the answer : 
 " I am not willing to keep by me such a matter 
 of provocation." Soon after, the scarcity of pro- 
 visions forced this person to send to buy one of 
 the Governor's cattle. ' He requested him to ac- 
 cept it as a gift, upon which the appeased oppo- 
 nent came to him, and said, "Sir, your overcoming 
 yourself hath overcome me." 
 
 During a severe winter, being told that a 
 neighbor was making free with his woodpile, he 
 sent for the offender, promising to "take a course 
 with him that should cure him of stealing." The 
 " course" was an announcement to the thief that he 
 was to help himself till the winter was over. It 
 was his practice to send his servants on errands 
 to his neighbors at meal times, to spy out the 
 nakedness of the land, for the benevolent purpose 
 of relieving them from his own table. 
 
 * These lines are preserved in a Miscellany of Poetry of the 
 time, now No. 1598 of the Harleian MSS. (British Museum). 
 Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Third Series, x. 152. 
 
.JOHN WINTHROP. 
 
 27 
 
 Governor Winthrop left five sons, the eldest of 
 whom — John, born 12th February, 1605-C — was 
 the founder of the colony at Saybrook, and ob- 
 tained from Charles II. the charter of Connecti- 
 cut, of which colony he was annually elected 
 Governor for the fourteen years preceding his 
 death, April 5, 1676. 
 
 Governor Winthrop's house — -afterwards tenant- 
 ed by the historian Prince — remained standing 
 until 1775, when it was pulled down with many 
 others by the British troops, for firewood. A 
 piece of ground, first allotted to him in lajing out 
 the town of Boston, became the site of the Old 
 South Church* 
 
 Winthrop left a MS. Journal of the public oc- 
 currences in the Massachusetts colony from Easter 
 Monday, March 29, 1630, to Jan. 11, 1649, which 
 was consulted by Mather, Hubbard, and Prince. 
 The manuscript was divided into three parts, the 
 first two of which remained in the possession of 
 the family until the Revolution, when Governor 
 Trumbull procured them aud copied a large por- 
 tion of their contents. After the death of Tram- 
 bull, Noah Wehster, in 1790, with the consent 
 of the Winthrop family, published these, believ- 
 ing them to be the entire work, in an octavo 
 volume. In 1816, the third part was discovered 
 among a mass of " pamphlets and papers, where 
 it attracted instant notice by its fair parchment 
 binding, and the silken strings by which its covers 
 were tied, and the whole work perfectly pre- 
 served"t by Abiel Holmes, the author of Ameri- 
 can Annals. A transcript was made by Mr. 
 James Savage, who also collated the volume print- 
 ed in 1790 with the original volume, and pub- 
 lished the whole with many valuable notes from 
 his own hand in two volumes 8vo. in 1826, un- 
 der the title of " The History of New England 
 from 1630 to 1649." A new edition, with fresh 
 annotations by the same editor, has been issued 
 in 1853. 
 
 Winthrop is also the author of " A Modell of 
 Christian Charity, written on board the Arbella, 
 on the Atlantic Ocean," which has been printed 
 from the original MS. in the New York Histori- 
 cal Society in the Massachusetts Historical Socie- 
 ty's Collections.:]: 
 
 "We present two extracts, the first a passage of 
 his Journals, the second, part of a speech which 
 the Governor calls his " little speech," but which 
 Grahaine, in his History of the United States, has 
 cited as a remarkable definition of true liberty, 
 and which the Modern Universal History (vol. 
 xxxix. 291, 2) says, "is equal to anything of 
 antiquity, whether we consider it as coming from 
 a philosopher or a magistrate." 
 
 OF A FEW PERSONS WHO LEFT TOE COLONY IN 1042. 
 
 They fled for fear of want, and many of them fell 
 into it, even to extremity, as if they had hastened 
 into the misery which they feared and fled from, 
 besides the depriving themselves of the ordinances 
 and church fellowship, and those civil liberties 
 which they enjoyed here ; whereas, such as staid in 
 their places, kept their peace and ease, and enjoyed 
 still the blessing of the ordinances, and never tasted 
 
 * Holmes's Annuls, i. 291. 
 
 t Account in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Second Series, iv. 21)0. 
 
 X Third Series, vii. 31. 
 
 of those troubles and miseries, which they heard to 
 have befallen those who departed. Much disputa- 
 tion there was about liberty of removing for out- 
 ward advantages, and all ways were sought for an 
 open door to get out at; but it is to be feared many 
 crept out at a broken wall. For such as come to- 
 gether into a wilderness, where are nothing but wild 
 beasts and beasts like men, aud there confederate 
 together in civil and church estate, whereby they 
 do, implicitly at least, bind themselves to support 
 each other, and all of thcrn that society, whether 
 civil or sacred, whereof they are members, how 
 they can break from this without free consent, is 
 hard to find, so as may satisfy a tender or good con- 
 science in time of trial. Ask thy conscience, if thou 
 wouldst have plucked up thy stakes, and brought 
 thy family 8O00 miles, if thou hadst expected that 
 all, or most, would have forsaken thee there? Ask 
 again, what liberty thou hast towards others, which 
 thou likest not to allow others towards thyself; for 
 if one may go, another hiay, aud so the greater 
 part: aud so church and commonwealth may be left 
 destitute in a wilderness, exposed to misery and re- 
 proach, and all for thy ease and pleasure, whereas 
 these all, being now thy brethren, as near to thee 
 as the Israelites were to Moses, it were much safer 
 for thee, after his example, to choose rather to suffer 
 affliction with thy brethren, than to enlarge thy 
 ease aud pleasure by furthering the occasion of their 
 ruin. 
 
 LIBERTY AND LAW. 
 
 From Gov. Winthrop's Speech to the Assembly of Massachvr 
 setts in llAo. 
 
 I am unwilling to stay you from your urgent 
 affairs, yet give me leave (upon this special occasion) 
 to speak a little more to this assembly. It may be 
 of some good use, to inform and rectify the judg- 
 ments of 6ome of the people, and may prevent such 
 distempers as have arisen amongst us. The great 
 questions that have troubled the country, are about 
 the authority of the magistrates and the liberty of 
 the people. It is yourselves who have called us to 
 this office, and being called by you, we have our 
 authority from God, in way of an ordinance, such 
 as hath the image of God eminently stamped upon 
 it, the contempt aud violation whereof hath been 
 vindicated with examples of divine vengeance. I 
 entreat you to consider, that when you choose 
 magistrates you take them from among yourselves, 
 men subject to like passions as you are. Therefore, 
 when you see infirmities in us, you should reflect 
 upon your own, and that would make you bear the 
 more with us, and not be severe eensurers of the 
 failings of your magistrates, when you have con- 
 tinual experience of the like infirmities in yourselves 
 and others. We account him a good servant, wdio 
 breaks not his covenant. The covenant between 
 you and us is the oath you have taken of us, which 
 is to this purpose, that we shall govern you and 
 judge your causes by the rules of God's laws and 
 our own, according to our best skill. When you 
 agree with a workman to build you a ship or a 
 house, Ac, lie undertakes as well for his skill as for 
 his faithfulness, for it is his profession, and you pay 
 him for both. But when you call one to be a magis- 
 trate, he doth not profess nor undertake to have 
 sufficient skill for that office, nor can you furnish 
 him with gifts, (fee, therefore you must run the 
 hazard of his skill and ability. But if he fail in 
 faithfulness, which by his oath he is bound unto, 
 that he must answer for. If it fall out that the case 
 be clear to common apprehension, and the rule clear 
 also, if he transgress here, the errour is not in the 
 s kill , but in the evil of the will ; it must be required 
 
23 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of liim. But if tlie cause be doubtful, or the rule 
 doubtful, to men of such understanding and parts as 
 your magistrates are, if your magistrates should err 
 here, yourselves must bear it. 
 
 For the other point, concerning liberty, I observe 
 a great mistake in the country about that. There 
 is a two-fold liberty, natural (i mean as our nature 
 is now corrupt) and civil or federal. The first is com- 
 mon to man with beasts and other creatures. By 
 this man, as he stands in relation to man simply, hath 
 liberty to do what he lists; it is a liberty to evil as 
 well as to good. Tins liberty is incompatible and 
 inconsistent with authority, and cannot endure the 
 least restraint of the most just authority. The exer- 
 cise and maintaining of this liberty makes men 
 grow more evil, and in time to be worse than brute 
 beasts: omnes su?nus licantid detcrlorcs. Tins is that 
 great enemy of truth and peace, that wild beast, 
 "which all the ordinances of God are bent against, to 
 restrain and subdue it. The other kind of liberty I 
 call civil or federal, it may also be termed moral, in 
 reference to the covenant between God and Man, in 
 the moral law, and the political covenants and con- 
 stitutions, amongst men themselves. This liberty 
 is the proper end and object of authority, and can- 
 not subsist without it; and it is a liberty to that 
 only which is good, just, and honest. This liberty 
 you are to stand for, with the hazard (not only of 
 our goods, but) of your lives if need be. 
 
 THOMAS MORTON. 
 
 Tite readers of Nathaniel Hawthorn cannot fail 
 to remember "the May-pole of Merry Mount." 
 The sketch, in its leading features, is a faithful 
 presentation of a curious episode in the early 
 history of New England. It has been narrated 
 by the chief actor in the scene, " Mine Host of 
 Ma-re Mount" himself, and his first telling of the 
 " twice told tale" is well worth the hearing. 
 
 Thomas Morton, " of Clifford's Inn, gent.," 
 came to Plymouth in 1G23, with "Weston's party. 
 Many of these returned the following year, and 
 the remainder were scattered about the settle- 
 ments. Our barrister says that they were very 
 popular with the original settlers as long as their 
 liquors lasted, and were turned adrift afterwards. 
 Be that as it may, he remained in the country, 
 and we hear of him a few years afterwards as 
 one of the company of Captain Wollaston who 
 came to America in 1625. Wollaston appears 
 to have had a set of fellows similar to those of 
 Weston. He carried a portion of them off to 
 Virginia, leaving the remainder in charge of one 
 Filcher, to await the summons to Virginia also. 
 Morton was one of these, and persuaded his com- 
 panions to drive away Filcher, place themselves 
 nnder his leadership, and found a settlement at 
 Mount Wollaston. This he effected, and he 
 henceforward speaks of himself as "mine host of 
 Ma-re Mount." Here he set up a May-pole — but 
 we shall allow him to be his own narrator. 
 
 The inhabitants of Pasonagessit (having trans- 
 lated the name of their habitation from that ancient 
 savnge name to Ma-re Mount; and being resolved 
 to have the new name confirmed for a memorial to 
 after ages), did devise amongst themselves to have I 
 it performed in a solemn manner with Revels and 
 merriment after the old English custom, prepared to 
 set lip a May-pole upon the festival day of Philip 
 and Jacob ; and therefore brewed a barrel of ex- 
 cellent beer, and provided a case of bottles to be 
 spent, with other good cheer, for all comers of that 
 
 day. And because they would have it in a Complete 
 form, they had prepared a song fitting to the time 
 and present occasion. And upon May-day they 
 brought the May-pole to the place appointed, with 
 drums, guns, pistols, and other fitting instruments, 
 for that purpose ; and there erected it with-the help 
 of salvages, that came thither of purpose to see the 
 manner of our Revels. A goodly pine tree of 80 
 feet long, was reared up, with a pair of buck-horns 
 nailed on, somewhat near unto the top of it ; where 
 it stood as a fair sea mark for directions ; how to 
 find out the way to mine Host of Ma-re Mount. 
 * * * * 
 
 There was likewise a merry song made, which 
 (to make their Revels more fashionable) was sung 
 with a eorus, every man bearing his part ; which 
 they performed in a dance, hand in hand about the 
 May-pole, whiles one of the company sung, and 
 filled out the good liquor like gammedes and Jupiter. 
 
 Drink and be merry, merry, 11161x71)073, 
 Let all your delight be in Hymen's joys, 
 Io to II_ymen now the day is come. 
 About the merry May-pole take a roome. 
 
 Make green garlons, bring bottles out; 
 And fill sweet Nectar freely about. 
 Uncover thy head, and fear no harm, 
 For here's good liquor to keep it warm. 
 
 Then drink and be merry, &c. 
 
 Io to Hymen, &c. 
 
 Nectar is a thing assign 'd, 
 
 By the Deities own mind, 
 
 To cure the heart opprest with grief, 
 
 And of good liquors is the chief. 
 
 Then drink, &c. 
 
 Io to Hymen, &c. 
 
 Give to the Melancholy man, 
 A cup or two of 't now and than, 
 This physic will soon revive his blood, 
 And make him be of a merrier mood. 
 
 Then drink, &c. 
 
 Io to Hymen, &c 
 
 Give to the nymph that's free from scorn, 
 No Irish stuff, nor Scotch over worn ; 
 Lasses in beaver coats come away, 
 Ye shall be welcome to us night and day. 
 
 To drink and be merry, &c. 
 
 Io to Hymen, &c 
 
 This harmless mirth made by young men (that 
 lived in hope to have wives brought over to them, 
 that would save them a labour to make a voyage 
 to fetch any over) was much distasted of the precise 
 Separatists ; that keep much ado, about the tithe of 
 mint and cummin, troubling their brains more than 
 reason would require about things that are in- 
 different ; and from that time sought occasion against 
 my honest Host of Ma-re Mount to overthrow his 
 undertakings, and to destroy his plantation quite and 
 clear. 
 
 Such proceedings of course caused great scan- 
 dal to the Plymouth colonist. Nathaniel Morton, 
 the first chronicler of the colony, thus describes 
 the affair. 
 
 After this (the expulsion of Filcher) they fell to 
 great licentiousness of life, in all profaneness, and the 
 said Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained 
 as it were, a school of Atheism, and after they had 
 got some goods into their hands, and got much by 
 trading with the Indians, they spent it as vainly in 
 quaffing and drinking both wine and strong liquors 
 in great excess, as some have reported ten pounds 
 worth in a morning, setting up a May-pole, drink- 
 ing, and dancing about it, and frisking about it like 
 so many faries, or furies rather, yea and worse 
 
 Eractices, as if they had anew revived and cele- 
 rated the feast of the Roman goddess Flora, or the 
 beastly practices of the mad Bacchanalians. 
 
THOMAS MORTON. 
 
 29 
 
 Morton was also charged, and it appears justly, 
 with employing the Indians to hunt for him, fur- 
 nishing them with, and instructing them in the 
 .use of, firearms for that purpose. The colonists, 
 "fearing that they should get a blow thereby; 
 also, taking notice' that if he were let alone in his 
 "way, they should keep no servants for him, 
 because he*vould entertain any, how vile soever,"* 
 met together, and after remonstrating with him 
 to no effect, obtained from the governor of Ply- 
 mouth the aid of Captain Miles Standish to 
 arrest him. Morton was taken prisoner, but, 
 according to his own story, which he makes an 
 amusing one, effected his escape : 
 
 Much rejoicing was made that they had gotten 
 their capital enemy (as they concluded him), whom 
 they purposed to hamper in such sort that he should 
 not be able to uphold his plantation at Ma-re Mount. 
 
 The conspirators sported themselves at my honest 
 host, that meant them no hurt; and were so jocund 
 that they feasted their bodies and fell to tippeliag, 
 as if they had obtained a great prize ; like the 
 Trojans when they had the custody of Hippeus' 
 pine tree horse. 
 
 Mine host feigned grief, and could not be per- 
 suaded either to eat or drink, because he knew 
 emptiness would be a means to make him as watch- 
 ful as the geese kept in the Roman eapitol ; whereon 
 the contrary part, the • conspirators would be so 
 drowsy, that he might have an opportunity to give 
 them a slip instead of tester. Six persons of the 
 conspiracy were set to watch him at Wessaguscus, 
 but lie kept waking, and in the dead of night (one 
 lying on the bed for further surety) up gets mine 
 host a'nd got to the second door that he was to pass, 
 which (notwithstanding the look) he got open; and 
 shut it after him with such violence that it affrighted 
 some of the conspirators. 
 
 The word which was given with an alarm was, 
 0, he's gone, he's gone, what shall we do, he's 
 gone ! The rest, half asleep, start up in a maze, 
 and, like rams, run their heads one at another, full 
 butt, in the dark. 
 
 Their grand leafier, Captain Shrimp, took on most 
 furiously, and tore his clothes for anger, to see the 
 empty nest and their bird gone. 
 
 The rest were eager to have torn their hair from 
 their heads, but it was so Bhort that it would give 
 them no hold. 
 
 He returned to Ma-re Mount, where he soon 
 afterwards surrendered, and was sent to England, 
 coming back the next year to his old quarters, 
 which during his absence had been visited by 
 Endicott, who caused the may-pole to be cut 
 down, "and the name of the place was again 
 changed and called Dagon.''t The year following 
 his return his house was searched on the charge 
 of his having corn belonging to other persons in 
 it. 
 
 After they had feasted their bodies witli that they 
 found there, carried all his corn away, with some 
 other of his goods, contrary to the laws of hospi- 
 tality, a small parcel of refuse corn only excepted, 
 which they left mine host to keep Christmas with. 
 But when they were goue, mine host fell to make 
 use of his gun (as one that had a good faculty in 
 the use of that instrument) and feasted his body 
 nevertheless with fowl and venison, which he pur- 
 chased with the help of that instrument ; the plenty 
 
 * New England's Memorial. 
 
 t Ibid. 
 
 of the country and the commodiousness of the 
 place affording means, by the blessing of God; and 
 he did but deride Captain Littleworth, that made 
 his servants snap short in a country so much abound- 
 ing with plenty of food for an industrious man, with 
 great variety. 
 
 Soon after Governor Winthrop's arrival, in 1630, 
 he was again arrested, convicted, and sent to Eng- 
 land, where he arrived, he says, "so metamor- 
 phosed with a long voyage, that he looked like 
 Lazarus in the painted cloth.''* 
 
 His book,t from which our extracts are taken, 
 bears date, Amsterdam, 1637. It was probably 
 printed in London, this device being often resort- 
 ed to at the time, with works of a libellous or 
 objectionable character. "With perseverance wor- 
 thy of a better cause, he returned to New Eng- 
 land, in 1643, and was arrested and imprisoned 
 in Boston a year, on account of his book. His 
 advanced age only, it is said, saved him from the 
 whipping-post. He died in poverty, in 1616, at 
 Agamenticus. His book shows facility in com- 
 _position, and not a little humor. Butler appears 
 to have derived one of the stories in Hudibras 
 from it. 
 
 Our brethren of New England use 
 Choice malefactors to excuse, 
 And hang the guiltless in their stead; 
 Of whom the churches have less need, 
 As lately 't happened : in a town 
 There liv'd a cobbler, and but one, 
 That out of doctrine could cut use, 
 And mend men's lives as well as shoes. 
 This precious brother having slain, 
 In time uf peace, an Indian, 
 Not out of malice, but mere zeal, 
 Because he was an infidel, 
 The mighty Tottipottimoy 
 Sent to our elders an envoy, 
 Complaining sorety of the breach 
 Of league, beld forth by brother Patch, 
 Against the articles in force 
 Between both churches, his and ours ; 
 For which he crav'd the saints to render 
 Into his hands or hang the offender : 
 But they maturely having weigh'd 
 They had no more but him o' the trade, 
 A man that serv'd them in a double 
 Capacity, to teach and cobble, 
 Resolv'd to spare him ; yet to do 
 The Indian Hogau Moghan too 
 Impartial justice, in his stead did 
 Hang an old weaver that was bed-rid :\ 
 
 * A common colloquial phrase of the period. It is used by 
 FalstafT (a character somewhat akin to mine host) in the first 
 part of Henry IV. ''Ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth." 
 The painted cloth was used, like tapestry, for covering and 
 decorating the walls of apartments. 
 
 + New English Canaan, or New Canaan, containing an 
 abstract of New Eng'and, composed in three Bookes. The first 
 Booke, setting forth the original! of the Natives, their Manners 
 and Customs, together witli their tractable Nature and Love 
 towards the English. The second Booke, setting forth the 
 naturall Indowmenls of the Country, and what staple Com- 
 modities it yealdeth. The third Booke, setting forth what 
 people are planted there, their prosperity, what remarkab'o 
 accidents have happened since the first planting of it, together 
 with their Tenents and practise of their Church. Written 
 by Thomas Morton, of Clifford's Inne, gent., upon tenne yeares' 
 knowledge and experiment of the Country. 
 
 Printed at Amsterdam, By Jacob Frederick Stam, in the 
 yeare 1G37. 
 
 The original edition of his "New England's Canaan" is ex- 
 tremely scarce. We are indebted for the use of a copy to the 
 valuable American collection of the Rev. Dr. Hawks. It is 
 reprinted in Col. Force's Historical Tracts. 
 
 t Hudibras, Part II., Canto II. 409-430. 
 
30 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 A young man, as Morton's story goes, was ar- 
 rested for stealing corn from an Indian, and the 
 following mode of dealing with the case was pro- 
 posed by one of the general assembly of the com- 
 munity called to adjudge punishment. Says he : 
 " You all agree that one must die, and one shall 
 die. This young man's clothes we will take off, 
 and put upon one that is old and impotent; a 
 sickly person that cannot escape death ; such is 
 the disease on him confirmed, that die he must. 
 Put the young man's clothes on this man, and let 
 the sick person he hanged in the other's stead. 
 Amen, says one, and so says many more." 
 
 A large portion of the volume is devoted to the 
 aborigines and the natural features of the country. 
 He thus expatiates on his first impressions : 
 
 And whiles our houses were building, I did en- 
 deavor to take a survey of the country ; the more 
 I looked, the more I liked it. When I had more 
 seriously considered of the beauty of the place, with 
 all her fair endowments, I did not think that, in all 
 the known world, it could be paralleled. For so 
 many goodly groves of trees ; dainty, fine, rounds 
 rising hillocks ; delicate, fair, large plains ; sweet 
 crystal fountains, and clear running streams, that 
 twine in fine meanders through the meads, making 
 so sweet a murmuring noise to hear, as would even 
 lull the senses with delight asleep, so pleasantly 
 do they glide upon the pebble stones, jetting most 
 jocundly where they do meet, and hand in hand 
 run down to Neptune's court, to pay the yearly tri- 
 bute which they owe to him as sovereign lord of all 
 the springs. Contained within the volume of the 
 land, fowls in abundance; fish in multitude; and 
 discovered besides, millions of turtle doves on the 
 green boughs, which sate pecking of the full, ripe, 
 pleasant grapes, that were supported by the lusty 
 trees, whose fruitful load did cause the arms to bend, 
 while here and there despersed, you might see lillies, 
 and of the Daphnean tree, which made the land to 
 me seem paradise, for in mine eye it was Nature's 
 masterpiece, her chiefest magazine of all, where fives 
 her store. If this land be not rich, then is the whole 
 world poor. 
 
 He is amusingly at fault in his natural history. 
 The beaver, he says, sits " in his house built on 
 the water, with his tayle hanging in the water, 
 which else would over-heate and rot off." An- 
 other marvel is, " a curious bird to see to, called 
 a humming-bird, no bigger than a great beetle ; 
 that out of question lives upon the bee, which he 
 catcheth and eateth amongst Flowers ; for it is his 
 custom to frequent those places. Flowers he can- 
 not feed upon by reason of his sharp bill, which 
 is like the point of a Spannish needle but short." 
 
 WILLIAM BRADFORD. 
 
 William Bradford was born at Ansterfield, in 
 the north of England, in 1588. He was educated 
 as a farmer, and inherited a large patrimony. 
 Embracing at an early age the tenets of the Puri- 
 tans, he connected himself with the congregation 
 of the celebrated John Robinson, and at the age 
 of nineteen, after two unsuccessful attempts, joined 
 his associates at Amsterdam. He remained in 
 Holland until 1G20, when he formed one of the 
 ship's company of the Mayflower. While explor- 
 ing the bay in a small boat, for the purpose of 
 selecting a place for settlement, his wife was 
 drowned. After the death of Governor Carver, 
 
 April 5, 1621, he was chosen his successor. He 
 established by gentleness and firmness a good un- 
 derstanding with the Indians, and conducted the 
 internal affairs of the colony with equal sagacity. 
 He was annually re-tdected for twelve years, and 
 then, in the words of Governor Winthrop, " by 
 importunity got off" from the cares of office for 
 two years, when he was re-elected, and continued 
 in power, with the exceptions of the vears 1636, 
 '38, and '44, until his death, May 9,"l657. He 
 was twice married, and left two sons by his second 
 wife, Alice Southworth. The eldest, William, 
 was deputy-governor of the colony, and had nine 
 sons and three daughters. 
 
 Numerous anecdotes are related of Governor 
 Bradford, indicative of ready wit and good com- 
 mon sense. When in 1622, during a period of 
 great scarcity in the colony, Canonicus, Sachem 
 of Narragansett, sent him a bundle of arrows 
 tied with the skin of a serpent, the messenger 
 was immediately sent back with the skin stuffed 
 with powder and ball, which caused a speedy and 
 satisfactory termination to the correspondence. 
 Suspecting one Lyford of plotting against the ec- 
 clesiastical arrangements of the colony, he'boarded 
 a ship, which was known to have carried out a 
 large number of letters written by him, after she 
 had left port, examined them, and thus obtained 
 evidence by which Lyford was tried and banished. 
 
 Governor Bradford's reputation as an author is 
 decidedly of a posthumous character. He left a 
 MS. history, in a folio volume of 270 pages, of the 
 Plymouth colony, from the formation of their 
 church in 1602 to 1647. It furnished the mate- 
 rial for Morton's Memorial, was used \>y Prince 
 and Governor Hutchinson in the preparation of 
 their histories, and deposited, with the collection 
 of papers of the former, in the library of the Old 
 South Church, in Boston. During the desecration 
 of this edifice as a riding-school by the British 
 in the Revolutionary war, the MS. disappeared.* 
 A copy of a portion closing with the year 1620, 
 in the handwriting of Nathaniel Morton, was dis- 
 covered by the Rev. Alexander Young in the li- 
 brary of the First Chnrch, at Plymouth, and 
 printed in his Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers 
 of the Colony of Plymouth, in 1841. A "letter- 
 book," in which Bradford preserved copies of his 
 correspondence, met with a similar fate, a portion 
 onlv having been rescued from a grocer's shop in 
 Halifax, and published in the Collections of the 
 Massachusetts Historical Society, in 1794, vol. iii. 
 of the first series of Collections, with a fragment 
 of a poem on New England. These, with two 
 other specimens of a few lines each, first pub- 
 lished by the same Society in 1838,t form, with 
 the exception of some slight controversial pieces, 
 the whole of his literary productions. 
 
 " I commend unto your wisdom and discre- 
 tion," he says in his will, " some small bookes 
 written by my own hand, to be improved as you 
 shall see meet. In special, I commend to you a 
 
 * It was given up for lost till 1855, when it was found com- 
 plete in the Fulham Library, England, 
 t Third Series, vii. 
 
WILLIAM BRADFORD. 
 
 31 
 
 little booke -with a black cover, wherein there is 
 a word to Plymouth, a word to Boston, and 
 a word to New England, with sundry useful 
 verses." 
 
 OF BOSTON IN NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 O Boston, though thou now art grown 
 To be a great and wealtl y town, 
 Yet I have seen thee a void place, 
 Shrubs and bushes covering thy face; 
 And house then in thee none were there, 
 Nor such as gold and silk did weare ; 
 No drunkenness were then in thee, 
 Nor such excess as now we see. 
 We then drunk freely of thy spring, 
 Without paying of anything ; 
 We lodged freely where we would, 
 All things were tree and nothing sold. 
 And they that did thee first begin, 
 Had hearts as free and as willing 
 Their poor friends for to entertain, 
 And never looked at sordid gain. 
 
 Some thou hast had whome I did know, 
 That spent theirselves to make thee grow, 
 And thy foundations they did lay, 
 Which do remain unto this day. 
 When thou wast weak they did thee nurse, 
 Or else with thee it had been worse; 
 They left thee not, but did defend 
 And succour thee unto their end. 
 Thou now hast grown in wealth and 6tore, 
 Do not forget that thou wast poor, 
 And lift not up thyself in pride, 
 From truth and justice turn not aside. 
 Remember thou a Cotton had, 
 Which made the hearts of many glad ; 
 What he thee taught bear thou in mind, 
 It's hard another such to find. 
 A Winthrop once in thee was known, 
 Who unto thee was as a crown. 
 Such ornaments are very rare, 
 Yet thou enjoyed this blessed pair. 
 But these are gone, their work is done, 
 Their day is past, set is their sun: 
 Yet faithful Wilson still remains, 
 And learned Norton doth take pains. 
 
 Live ye in peace. I could say more. 
 Oppress ye not the weak and poor. 
 The trade is all in your own hand, 
 Take heed ye do not wrong the land, 
 Lest he that hath lift you on high, 
 When, as the poor to him do cry, 
 Do throw you down from your high state, 
 And make you low and desolate. 
 
 FBAGMENTAEY POESI ON NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 Famine once we had, 
 But other things God gave us in full store, 
 As fish and ground-nuts, to supply our strait, 
 That we might learn on Providence to wait; 
 And know, by bread man lives not in his need, 
 But by each word that doth from God proceed. 
 But a while after plenty did come in, 
 From his hand only who doth pardon sin. 
 And all did flourish like the pleasant green, 
 Which in the joyful spring is to be seen. 
 
 Almost ten years we lived here alone, 
 
 In other places there were few or none; 
 
 For Salem was the next of any fame, 
 
 That began to augment New England's name ; 
 
 But after multitudes began to flow, 
 
 More than well knew themselves where to bestow ; 
 
 Boston then began her roots to spread, 
 
 And quickly soon she grew to be the head, 
 
 Not only of the Massachusetts Bay, 
 
 But all trade and commerce fell in her way. 
 
 And truly it was admirable to know, 
 
 How greatly all things here began to grow. 
 
 New plantations were in each place begun, 
 
 And with inhabitants were filled soon. 
 
 All sorts of grain which our own land doth yield, 
 
 "Was hither brought, and sown in every field: 
 
 As wheat and rye, barley, oats, beans and pease, 
 
 Here all thrive, and they profit from them raise. 
 
 All sorts of roots and herbs in gardens grow, 
 
 Parsnips, carrots, turnips, or what you'll sow. 
 
 Onions, melons, cucumbers, radishes, 
 
 Skirets, beets, coleworts, and fair cabbages. 
 
 Here grow fine flowers many, and 'niongst those, 
 
 The fair white lily and sweet fragrant rose. 
 
 Many good wholesome berries here you'll find, 
 
 Fit for man's use, almost of every kind, 
 
 Pears, apples, cherries, plumbs, quinces and peach, 
 
 Are now no dainties ; yon may have of each. 
 
 Nuts and grapes of several sorts are here, 
 
 If you will take the pains them to seek for. 
 
 ****** 
 But that which did 'bove all the rest excel, 
 God in his word, with us he here did dwell; 
 Well ordered churches, in each place there were, 
 And a learn'd ministry was planted here. 
 All marvell'd and said: "Lord, this work is thine, 
 In the wilderness to make such lights to shine." 
 And truly it was a glorious thing, 
 Thus to hear men pray, and God's praises sing. 
 Where these natives were wont to cry and yell 
 To Satan, wdio 'niongst them doth rule and dwelL 
 Oh, how great comfort it was now to see 
 The churches to enjoy free liberty! 
 And to have the Gospel preach'd here with power, 
 And such wolves repell'd as would else devour; 
 And now with plenty their poor souls were fed, 
 With better food than wheat, or angel's bread, 
 In green pastures, they may themselves solace, 
 And drink freely of the sweet springs of grace; 
 A pleasant banquet is prepar'd for these, 
 Of fat things, and rich wine upon the lees ; 
 " Eat,,0 my friends (saith Christ), and drink freely, 
 Here's wine and milk, and all sweet spieery; 
 The honey and its comb is here to be had ; 
 I myself for you have this banquet made: 
 Be not dismayed, but let your heart rejoice 
 In this wilderness, O let me hear your voice; 
 My friends you are, whilst you my ways do keep, 
 Your sins I'll pardon aud your good I'll seek." 
 And they, poor souls, again to Christ do say: 
 " Lord, thou art our hope, our strength and stay, 
 Who givest to us all these thy good things, 
 Us shelter still, in the shadow of thy wings: 
 So we shall sing, and laud thy name with praise, 
 'Tis thine own work to keep us in thy ways; 
 Uphold us still, thou which art most high, 
 We then shall be kept, and thy name glorify, 
 Let us enjoy thyself, with these means of grace, 
 And in our hearts shine, with the light of thy face; 
 Take not away thy presence, nor thy word, 
 But, we humbly pray, us the same afford." 
 
 JOHN DAVENPORT. 
 
 John Davenport, the first minister of New Ha- 
 ven, and an important theological writer of his 
 time, was bora in Coventry, England, in 159'T. 
 He was educated at Merton and Magdalen col- 
 leges, Oxford, but left before taking a degree. 
 Soon after removing to London he became minis- 
 ter of St. Stephen's Church, Coleman St., at nine- 
 teen, and obtained great celebrity as a pulpit 
 orator. In the year 1630 he united with others 
 
32 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in purchasing church property held hy laymen 
 •with a view of devoting the revenue therefrom to 
 provide clergymen for destitute congregations. 
 By the exertions of Laud, who feared that the 
 scheme would be turned to the advantage of the 
 non-conformists, the company was broken up, 
 and the money which had been collected, confis- 
 cated. In 1023, in consequenceof non-conformity, 
 he resigned his church, and removed to Holland. 
 After preaching to the English congregation for 
 two years as the colleague of John Paget, he be- 
 came engaged in a controversy in consequence of 
 his opposition to the plan there pursued, of the 
 general baptism of infants, and retiring from the 
 pulpit devoted himself to teaching, until he was 
 induced by John Cotton to emigrate to Boston. 
 He had been an early friend of the colony, having 
 been one of the applicants for the original char- 
 ter. His name does not appear in the list of pa- 
 tentees, having been omitted at his own request 
 lest it should excite the opposition of Laud to the 
 scheme. He arrived at Boston, June, 1637, and in 
 August took part in the Synod called in reference 
 to the opinions of Anne Hutchinson. He sailed, 
 March 30, 1 638, with a company for Quinnipiack or 
 New Haven, where he preached under an oak on 
 the eighteenth of April, the first Sunday after his 
 arrival, as their minister, a position he retained 
 for thirty years, during which he was instrumen- 
 tal in the passage of the rigid laws regarding 
 church membership established in the colony. 
 He displayed great courage in concealing the 
 Regicides, Whalley and Gofle, in his own house, 
 in 1661, and by preaching when their pursuers 
 were expected in the city from the text, " Hide 
 the outcasts; bewray not him that wandereth. 
 Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, Moab; be 
 thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler" 
 (Isaiah xvi. 3, 4). On the death of John Wilson, 
 minister of the first church in Boston, in 1667, 
 he accepted a call to become his successor, believ- 
 ing that as affairs in New Haven were in a 'settled 
 condition he could do more good in Boston, where, 
 as he thought, ecclesiastical discipline had been 
 unduly relaxed. He was instituted pastor, Dec. 
 9,1688, and died of apoplexy March 15, 1670. 
 
 He was the author of several pamphlets on the 
 controversy between himself and the English 
 church at Amsterdam, of A Discourse about 
 Civil Government in a new Plantation, whose de- 
 sign is religion, and of TJie Saints Anchor Hold 
 in all Storms and Tempests, a collection of ser- 
 mons. He also prepared an Exposition on the 
 Canticles, of which Mather tells us, " the death of 
 the gentleman chiefly concerned in the intended 
 impression proved the death of the impression 
 itself."* 
 
 ROGER WILLIAMS. 
 In the political history of the country, the name 
 of Williams, as the apostle of civil and religious 
 liberty, holds the first rank ; his literary achieve- 
 ments, exhibiting his graces of character, entitle 
 him to an honorable place in this collection. He 
 was one of the first of the learned university men 
 who came to New England for conscience sake, 
 and the principle which brought him across the 
 Atlantic did not depart on his landing. Religious 
 
 * Magnalia, Ed. 1858, i. 880. 
 
 liberty, the right divine of conscience, was not 
 simply having his own way, while he checked 
 other people's. He did not fly from persecution 
 to persecute. Born in Wales in 1606,* edu- 
 cated at Oxford ; if not a student at law with 
 Sir Edward Coke, enjoying an early intimacy 
 with him; then a non-conformist minister in con- 
 flict with the ecclesiastical authorities of the 
 times, he arrived in Massachusetts in 1631. 
 Asserting at once his views of religious tolera- 
 tion, the independence of conscience of the civil 
 magistrate, and the separation of Church and 
 State, he was driven from Salem, where he had 
 become established as a preacher, by an order of 
 the General Council in 1635, into exile, for "his 
 new and dangerous opinions against the authority 
 of magistrates." He then made his memorable 
 journey in the winter season, through what was 
 then a wilderness, to the vicinity of Narragansett 
 Bay, where, received in friendship by the Indians, 
 he established himself at Seekonk; but finding 
 himself within the limits of the Plymouth colony, 
 he sailed with his friends in a canoe down the 
 river to found on the opposite shore the city of 
 Providence, a living name which will always bear 
 witness to his persecution and trust in God. 
 Here he maintained friendly relations with the 
 Indians, warded off disaster, by quieting their 
 threatened aggressions, from the people who had 
 driven him away, received fugitives for conscience 
 sake from Massachusetts Bay, and promoted the 
 settlement of Rhode Island. In 1643 he sailed 
 from New Amsterdam for England, as an agent 
 to procure a charter. On his way thither at sea, 
 he wrote his Key into the Language of America, 
 which he published in London, on his arrival.f 
 "I drew," he says in his address, "to my dear 
 and well, beloved friends and countrymen in Old 
 and New England, the materials in a rude lump 
 .at sea, as a private help to my own memory, that 
 I might not hy my present absence lightly lose 
 what I had so dearly bought in some few years of 
 hardship and charges among the Barbarians," and 
 he committed it to the public for the benefit of 
 his friends. " A little key," he says, " may open 
 a box, where lies a bunch of keys." 
 
 Msji/;« m 
 
 * We follow here the Oxford University entry presented by 
 Dr. Elton, in preference to the usual statements which make 
 bim seven or eight years older. 
 
 t A Key into the Language of America, or an help to the 
 Language of the Natives in that part of Amehica called New 
 Encland ; together with briefe Observations of the Customs, 
 Manners and Worships, &c. of the aforesaid Nations, in Peace 
 and Wane, in Life and Death. On all which are added Spirit- 
 ual! Observations, General and Particular, by the Authour, of 
 chiefe and special! use (upon all occasions) to all the English 
 Inhabiting those parts ; yet pleasant and profitable to the view 
 of all men : By lioger Williams, of Providence, in New Eng- 
 land. London: Printed by George Dexter, 18mo„ pp. 200. 
 1648. There are very few copies of the original edition of this 
 book in existence, the library of the Massachusetts Historical 
 Society has one, from which a reprint has been made in the 
 first volume of the Collections of the Ehode Inland Historical 
 Society. Providence, 1S27. Mr. James Lenox, of New York, 
 in his valuable Collection, has another, which we have had the 
 privilege of consulting for this article. The Licenser's Im- 
 primatur on the last page is curious. " I have read over tluse 
 thirty chapters of the American Language, to me wholly ml- 
 knenone, and the Observations, tliexe I conceive inoffensive ; 
 and tltat Vie Worke may conduce to the happy end intended 
 hy t/ie Author. Jo Lak'glev." 
 
ROGER WILLIAMS. 
 
 33 
 
 The book is in a series of thirty-two chapters, 
 each containing a vocabulary, with an occasional 
 enlargement at a suggestive word relating to man- 
 ners or notions ; and concluding with a copy of 
 verses. To the second chapter, " of Eating and 
 Entertainment," this pious and benevolent man 
 touchingly adds: — 
 
 Coarse bread and water's most their fare, 
 
 O England's diet fine ; 
 Thy cup runs o'er with plenteous store 
 
 Of wholesome beer and wine. 
 
 Sometimes God gives them fish or flesh, 
 
 Yet they're content without ; 
 And what comes in they part to friends 
 
 And strangers round about. 
 
 God's providence is rich to his, 
 
 Let none distrustful be ; 
 In wilderness, in great distress, 
 
 These Ravens have fed me. 
 
 There is the same simplicity and faith in Pro- 
 vidence in the rest of these little poems, wher- 
 ever the topic gives him an opportunity to ex- 
 press it. The notes are simply jottings down of 
 facts he had noticed — but even these few words 
 are somehow instinct with his kindly spirit. " I 
 once travailed," he says, "to an island of the 
 wildest in our parts, where in the night an In- 
 dian (as he said) had a vision or dream of the Sun 
 (whom they worship for a God) darting a beam 
 into his breast, which he conceived to be the mes- 
 senger of his death. This poor native called his 
 friends and neighbors, and prepared some little 
 refreshing for them, but himself was kept wak- 
 ing and fasting in great humiliations and invo- 
 cations for ten days and nights. I was alone 
 (having travelled from my bark the wind being 
 contrary) and little could I speak to them, to their 
 understanding, especially because of the change of 
 their dialect or maimer of speech from our neigh- 
 bors : yet so much (through the help of God) I 
 did speak, of the true and living only wise God, 
 of the Creation, of Man and his fall from God, 
 &c, that at parting many burst forth, Oh when 
 will you come again, to bring us some more news 
 of this God f And to this follow the " more 
 particular" reflections :— 
 
 God gives them sleep on ground, on straw, 
 
 On sedgy mats or board : 
 "When English softest beds of down, 
 
 Sometimes no sleep afford. 
 
 I have known them leave their house and mat, 
 
 To lodge a friend or stranger, 
 "When Jews and Christians oft have sent 
 
 Christ Jesus to the manger. 
 
 Tore day they invoeate their gods. 
 
 Though many false and new ; 
 how should that God worshipt be, 
 
 Who is but one and true ? 
 
 " How sweetly," he says, " do all the several 
 sorts of heaven's birds, in all coasts of the world, 
 preach unto men the praise of their maker's wis- 
 dome, power, and goodnesse, who feeds them 
 and their young ones summer and winter with 
 their several sorts of food : although they neither 
 sow nor reap, nor gather into barns ! " 
 
 vol. i. — 3 
 
 If birds that neither sow nor reape, 
 
 Nor store up any food, 
 Constantly to them and theirs 
 
 A maker kind and good ! 
 
 If man provide eke for his birds, 
 
 In yard, in coops, in cage, 
 And each bird spends in songs and tunea, 
 
 His little time and age! 
 
 What care will man, what care will God 
 
 For his wife and children take ? 
 Millions of birds and worlds will God 
 
 Sooner than his, forsake. 
 
 To the general " observations of their travel," 
 
 God makes a path, provides a guide, 
 
 And feeds in wilderness! 
 His glorious name while breath remains, 
 
 that I may confess. 
 
 Lost many a time, I have had no guide, 
 
 No house, but hollow tree ! 
 In stormy winter night no fire, 
 
 No food, no company : 
 
 In him I have found a house, a bed, 
 
 A table, company : 
 No cup so bitter, but's made sweet, 
 
 When God shall sweetning be. 
 
 His business with Parliament was successful. 
 He obtained a Charter of Incorporation of Pro- 
 vidence Plantations in 1644. Before his return 
 he published in London, the same year, a 
 pamphlet, Mr. Cotton's Letter, lately printed, 
 Examined and Answered, a refutation of the rea- 
 sons of his dismissal, and also his celebrated 
 work, which embodies the principles of tolera- 
 tion, The Bloody Tenent of Persecution, for 
 cause of Conscience, discussed in a Conference 
 between Truth and Peace.* 
 
 The history of this composition is curious. "A 
 witness of Jesus Christ, close prisoner in New- 
 gate," wrote a tract "against persecution in 
 cause of Conscience," which he penned on paper 
 introduced into his prison as the stoppers to a 
 bottle of milk, the fluid of which served him for 
 ink. Williams thus introduces it in the prefatory 
 part of his book, the "Tenent:" — 
 
 Arguments against persecution in milk, the answer 
 for it (as I may say) in blood 
 
 The author of these arguments (against persecu- 
 tion) (as I have been informed) being committed by 
 some then in power, close prisoner to Newgate, for 
 the witness of some truths of Jesus, and having not 
 the use of pen and ink, wrote these arguments in 
 milk, in sheets of paper, brought to him by the 
 woman his keeper, from a friend in London, as the 
 stoppers of his milk bottle. 
 
 In such paper written with milk, nothing will 
 appear, but the way of reading it by fire being 
 known to this friend who received the papers, he 
 transcribed and kept together the papers, although 
 the author himself could not correct, nor view what 
 himself had written. 
 
 It was in milk, tending to soul nourishment, even 
 for babes and sucklings in Christ. 
 
 It was in milk, spiritually white, pure, and inno- 
 
 * The Bloody Tenent of Persecution, for cause of Con- 
 science, discussed in a Conference between Truth and Peace, 
 who, in all tender affection, present to the High Court of Par- 
 liament, as the Eesult of their Discourse, these, amongst 
 other, Passages of highest consideration. Printed in tho year 
 1644 4to. pp.247. 
 
34 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 cent, like those white horses of the 'word of truth 
 and meekness, and the white linen or armour of 
 righteousness, in the army of Jesus. Rev. vi. & xix. 
 
 It was in milk, soft, meek, peaceable, and gentle, 
 tending both to the peace of souls and the peace of 
 states and kingdoms. 
 
 This was a mild introduction to controversy : 
 yet being sent to New England, was answered 
 Dy John Cotton, when "Williams published both 
 arguments with his reply. The " Bloody Tenent " 
 is a noble work, full of brave heart and tender- 
 ness ; a book of learning and piety, — the composi- 
 tion of a true, gentle nature. How sweet, delicate, 
 and reverential are the soft approaches of the 
 dialogue as " Peace " and " Truth " address one 
 another. "But hark," says Truth, "what noise is 
 this ?" as she listens to the din of the wars for Con- 
 science. Those," is the reply, "are the doleful 
 drums and shrill-sounding trumpets, the roaring, 
 murdering cannons, the shouts of conquerors, the 
 groans of wounded, dying, slaughtered righteous, 
 with the wicked. Dear Truth, how long? How 
 long these dreadful sounds and direful sights ? How 
 long before my glad return and restitution?" 
 This is the expression of a poet. For his posi- 
 tion as an asserter of religious toleration, we may 
 quote the sentence of Bancroft: "He was the 
 first person in modern Christendom to assert in 
 its plenitude the doctrine of the liberty of con- 
 science, the equality of opinions before the law, 
 and in its defence he was the harbinger of Mil- 
 ton, the precursor and the superior of Jeremy 
 Taylor."* 
 
 "Williams returned to America in 1644, and at 
 the close of 1651 again visited England to secure 
 the Confirmation of the Charter, in which he 
 succeeded. Cotton had in the meantime replied, 
 in 1647, to the "Bloody Tenent" in his "Bloody 
 Tenent "Washed and Made "White in the Blood of 
 the Lamb," to which "Williams was ready in Lon- 
 don with his rejoinder, The Bloody Tenent yet 
 more Bloody, by Mr. Cotton's Endeator to Wash 
 it White in, the Blood of the Lambe^ in which 
 he pursued his argument with his old zeal and 
 learning. He published at the same time, in a 
 small 4to., The Hireling Ministry none of Chrisfs, 
 or a Discourse touching the Propagating the 
 Gospel of Christ Jesus; humbly presented to 
 such Pious and Honorable Hands, whom the pre- 
 sent Debate thereof concerns. 
 
 In 1853, there were first published at Provi- 
 dence, in the Life of Roger Williams by Romeo 
 Elton,| a brief series of letters which passed be- 
 tween Williams and the daughter of his old bene- 
 
 * Bancroft's Hist. TJ. S. i. 8T6. 
 
 t The Bloody Tenent yet more Bloody, by Mr. Cotton's 
 Endeavor to wash it white in the Blood of the Lambe, of 
 whose precious Blood spilt in the Blood of his Servants, and 
 of the Blood of Millions spilt in former and later Wars for 
 Conscience' Sake, that most Bloody Tenent of Persecution for 
 Cause of Conscience, upon a second Tryal, is now found more 
 apparently, and more notoriously guilty. In this Rejoynder 
 to Mr. Cotton are principally, 1. The Nature of Persecution; 
 2. The Power of the Civill Sword in Spiritualls examined ; 3. 
 Tbo Parliament's Permission of dissenting Consciences justi- 
 fied. Also (as a Testimony to Mr. Clark's Narrative) is added 
 a Letter to Mr. Endicott, Governor of the Massachusetts in 
 N. E. By P.. Williams, of Providence, in New England. Lon- 
 don printed for Giles Calvert, and are to be sold at the Black 
 Spread Eagle, at the West End of Paul's, 1652. 
 
 X Life of Roger Williams, the Earliest Legislator and true 
 Champion for a full and absolute liberty of Conscience. By 
 Romeo Elton, 96-11)9. This is a work of original research and 
 much interesting information. 
 
 factor, Sir Edward Coke, Mrs. Anne Sadleir, on 
 this second visit to England in 1652-3. They 
 are full of character on both sides ; the humor of 
 them consisting in the lady being a royalist, well 
 disposed to the church establishment, a sharp- 
 shooter in her language and a bit of a termagant, 
 while Williams was practising his politest graces 
 and most Christian forbearance, as he steadily 
 maintained his independent theology. He ad- 
 dresses her, "My much-honored friend, Mrs. 
 Sadleir," and tenders her one of his compositions 
 to read, probably the work he had just published 
 iu England, entitled, Experiments of Spiritual 
 Life and Health and their Preservatives,* which 
 he describes as " a plain and peaceable discourse, 
 of my own personal experiments, which, in a 
 letter to my dear wife — upon the occasion of her 
 great sickness near death — I sent her, being ab- 
 sent myself among the Indians." He courteously 
 invites attention and even censure. "I have 
 been oft glad," he says, "in the wilderness of 
 America to have been reproved for going in a 
 wrong path, and to be directed by a naked In- 
 dian boy in my travels." He quietly throws out 
 a few hints of the virtues of his own position in 
 church matters. Mrs. Sadleir quotes Scripture in 
 reply. 
 
 Mr. Williams, — Since it has pleased God to make 
 the prophet David's complaint ours (Ps. lxxis.) : " O 
 God, the heathen," (fee, and that the apostle St. Peter 
 has so long ago foretold, in his second epistle, the 
 second chapter, by whom these things should be oc- 
 casioned, I have given over reading many books, 
 and, therefore, with thanks, have returned yours. 
 Those that I now read, besides the Bible, are, first, 
 the late king's book ; Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity ; 
 Reverend Bishop Andrews's Sermons, with his other 
 divine meditations ; Dr. Jer. Taylor's works ; and 
 Dr. Tho. Jackson upon the Creed. Some of these 
 my dear father was a great admirer of, and would 
 often call them the glorious lights of the church of 
 England. These lights shall be my guide; I wish 
 they may be yours ; for your new lights that are so 
 much cried up, I believe, in the conclusion, they 
 will prove but dark lanterns ; therefore I dare not 
 meddle with them. 
 
 Your friend in the old way, 
 
 Anne Sadleir. 
 
 Which little repellant, Williams, feeling the sting, 
 answers, offering another book : — 
 
 MY MUCH-HONORED, KIND FRIEND, MrS. SaDLETR, 
 
 My humble respects premised to your much-honored 
 self, and Mr. Sadleir, humbly wishing you the sav- 
 ing knowledge and assurance of that life which is 
 eternal, when this poor minute's dream is over. In 
 my poor span of time, I have been oft in the jaws 
 of death, sickening at sea, shipwrecked on shore, in 
 danger of arrows, swords and bullets : and yet, me- 
 thinks, the most high and most holy God hath re- 
 served me for some service to his most glorious and 
 eternal majesty. 
 
 I think, sometimes, in this common shipwreck of 
 mankind, wherein we all are either floating or sink- 
 ing, despairing or struggling for life, why should I 
 ever faint in striving, as Paul saith, in hopes to save 
 myself, to save others — to call, and cry, and ask, 
 what hope of saving, what hope of life, and of the 
 
 * Prof. GammeU's Life of Roger Williams, 218. We are 
 much indebted to his careful bibliography. Certainly there 
 should not bo suffered to remain much longer any difficulty of 
 access to all which Roger Williams wrote. 
 
ROGER WILLIAMS. 
 
 35 
 
 eternal shore of mercy ? Your last letter, my honored 
 friend, I received as a bitter sweeting — as all, that 
 is under the sun, is — sweet, in that I hear from you, 
 and that you continue striving for life eternal ; bit- 
 ter, in that we differ about the way, in the midst of 
 the dangers and the distresses. 
 
 For the scope of this rejoinder, if it please the 
 Most High to direct your eye to a glance on it, 
 please you to know, that at my last being in Eng- 
 land, I wrote a discourse entitled, " The Bloudy 
 Tenent of Persecution for Cause of Conscience." I 
 bent my charge against Mr. Cotton especially, your 
 standard-bearer of New Englaud ministers. That 
 discourse he since answered, and calls his book, 
 " The Bloody Tenent made white in the Blood of 
 the Lamb." This rejoinder of mine, aa I humbly 
 hope, unwashed his washings, and proves that in 
 soul matters no weapons but soul weapons are reach- 
 ing and effectual. 
 
 His " much-honored, kind friend" replies : — 
 
 Sir, — I thank God my blessed parents bred me up 
 in the old and best religion, and it is my glory that 
 I am a member of the Church of England, as it was 
 when all the reformed churches gave her the right 
 hand. When I east mine eye upon the frontispiece 
 of your book, and saw it entitled " The Bloudy 
 Tenent," I durst not adventure to look into it, for 
 fear it should bring into my memory the much 
 blood that has of late been shed, and which I would 
 fain forget ; therefore I do, with thanks, return it. 
 I cannot call to mind any blood shed for conscience: 
 — some few that went about to make a rent in our 
 once well-governed church were punished, but none 
 suffered death. But this I know, that since it has 
 been left to every man's conscience to fancy what 
 religion he list, there has more christian blood been 
 shed than was in the ten persecutions. And some 
 of that blood will, I fear, cry to the day of judg- 
 ment. But you know what the Scripture says, that 
 when there was no king in Israel, every man did 
 that which was right in his own eyes, — but what 
 became of that, the sacred story will tell you. 
 
 Thus entreating you to trouble me no more in this 
 kind, and wishing you a good journey to your 
 charge in New Providence, I rest 
 
 Your Fkiend, in the Old and Best Way. 
 
 Williams, not to be diseoneerted, triples the 
 length of his response, with new divisions and 
 scripture citations, and this among other biting 
 paragraphs on the lady's favorite reading : — 
 
 I have read those books you mention, and the 
 king's book, which commends two of them, Bp. An- 
 drews's and Hookers — yea, and a third also, Bp. 
 Laud's: and as for the king. I know his person, 
 vicious, a swearer from his youth, and an oppressor 
 and persecutor of good men (to say nothing of his 
 own father), and the blood of so many hundred 
 thousands English, Irish, Scotch, French, lately 
 charged upon him. Against his and his blasphemous 
 father's cruelties, your own dear father, and many 
 precious men, shall rise up shortly and cry for ven- 
 geance. 
 
 But for the book itself — if it be his — and theirs 
 you please to mention, and thousands more, not only 
 prote3tants of several sects, but of some papists and 
 Jesuits also — famous for worldly repute, <fec. — I have 
 found them sharp and witty, plausible and delight- 
 ful, devout and pathetieaL And I have been 
 amazed to see the whole world of our forefathers, 
 wise and gallant, wondering after the glory of the 
 Romish learning and worship. (Rev. xiii.) But 
 amongst them all whom I have so diligently read 
 and heard, how few express the simplicity, the 
 
 plainness, the meekness, and true humility of the 
 learning of the Son of God. 
 
 with this telling postscript : — 
 
 My honored friend, since you please not to read 
 mine, let me pray leave to request your reading of 
 one book of your own authors. I mean the " Liberty 
 of Prophesying," penned by (so called) Dr. Jer. 
 Taylor. In the which is excellently asserted the 
 toleration of different religions, yea, in a respect, 
 that of the Papists themselves, which is a new way 
 of soul freedom, and yet is the old way of Christ 
 Jesus, as all his holy Testament declares. 
 
 I also humbly wish that you may please to read 
 J over impartially Mr. Milton's answer to the king's 
 book. 
 
 Mrs. Sadleir waxes indignant, and replies more 
 at length — getting personally discourteous and 
 scandalous on John Milton : — 
 
 Me. Williams, — I thought my first letter would 
 have given you so much satisfaction, that, in that 
 kind, I should never have heard of you any more ; 
 but it seems you have a face of brass, so that you 
 cannot blush. 
 ******* 
 
 For Milton's book, that you desire I should read, 
 if I be not mistaken, that is he that has wrote a 
 book of the lawfulness of divorce.; and, if report 
 says true, he had, at that time, two or three wives 
 living. This, perhaps, were good doctrine in New 
 England ; but it is most abominable in Old England. 
 For his book that he wrote against the late king 
 that you would have me read, you should have 
 taken notice of God's judgment upon him, who 
 stroke him with blindness ; and, as I have heard, he 
 was fain to have the help of one Andrew Marvell, 
 or else he could not have finished that most accursed 
 libel. God has began his judgment upon him here 
 — his punishment will be hereafter in hell. But 
 have you seen the answer to it ? If you can get it, 
 I assure you it is worth your reading. 
 
 I have also read Taylor's book of the Liberty of 
 Prophesying; though it please not me, yet I am 
 sure it does you, or else I [know]* you [would]* 
 not have wrote to me to have read it. I say, it and 
 j'ou would make a good fire. But have you seen 
 his Divine Institution of the Office Ministerial ? I 
 assure that is both worth your reading and practice. 
 Bishop Laud's book against Fisher I have read long 
 since ; which, if you have not done, let me tell you 
 that he has deeply wounded the Pope ; and, I be- 
 lieve, howsoever he be slighted, he will rise a saint, 
 when many seeming ones, such as you are, will rise 
 devils. 
 
 This winds up the correspondence. Mrs. Sad- 
 leir, as she puts it aside, for publication a couple 
 of hundred years later, writing on the back of 
 Williams's first letter : — " This Roger Williams, 
 when he was a youth, would, in short hand, take 
 sermons and speeches in the Star Chamber, and 
 present them to my dear father. He, seeing so 
 hopeful a youth, took such liking to him that he 
 sent him in to Sutton's Hospital, and he was the 
 second that was placed there; full little did he 
 think that he would have proved such a rebel to 
 God, the king, and the country. I leave his let- 
 ters, that, if ever he has the face to return into his 
 native country, Tyburn may give him welcome." 
 
 * These words nre not in the MS. 
 
36 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 For which scrap of biographical information, in 
 the too general dearth of anecdote respecting a 
 good and great man, we thank her.* 
 
 After his return he writes to his friend John 
 Winthrop, subsequently the Governor of Connec- 
 ticut, relating, among other incidents of his visit 
 to England, this anecdote of his exchange of lan- 
 guages with John Milton in his blindness — " It 
 pleased the Lord to call me for some time, and, 
 with some persons, to practice the Hebrew, the 
 Greek, Latin, French and Dutch. The Secretary 
 of the Council, Mr. Milton, for my Dutch I read 
 him, read me many more languages.''! lie was 
 intimate with Cromwell and passed much time 
 with Sir Henry Vane, the old Governor of Mas- 
 sachusetts. In this journey he was associated 
 with his friend Mr. John Clarke, who remained 
 in England as the agent of the colony, and in 
 whose behalf, on his return, he addressed a plea 
 to his "beloved friends and countrymen," the 
 General Assembly of Rhode Island. It is a good 
 example of his love of justice, directness, and 
 business tact, and, as such, we present a portion 
 of it in our extracts.^ 
 
 "Williams was active as usual in the affairs of 
 the colony, and was chosen its President in 1654. 
 The persecution of the Quakers then followed in 
 Massachusetts; then' rights were maintained in 
 Rhode Island, though Williams held a controversy 
 with Fox and his disciples, an account of which 
 he embodied in the last of his publications in 
 1676, George Fox digged out of his Burrowes,% a 
 pun on the names of the Quaker leaders. Fox 
 replied to this in his New England Firebrand 
 Quenched, with abundant bitterness ; and Edmund- 
 son, one of Williams's personal antagonists in the 
 controversial encounter, which was held both at 
 Newport and Providence, in his Journal of his 
 Life, Sufferings, and Labor, speaks of " one Roger 
 Williams, an old priest and an enemy to truth, 
 putting forth fourteen propositions, as he called 
 them."|| It was an unpleasant affair, but the 
 Quakers had laid themselves open to attack 
 by some outrageous extravagances. Seven years 
 afterwards, in 1683, in the seventy-eighth year 
 of his age, the Founder of Rhode Island, the 
 friend of peace and asserter of liberty, died at 
 Providence, on the spot which his genius and 
 labors had consecrated. He left a wife and six 
 children. There is no portrait of him. The 
 engraving prefixed to the Life in Sparks's Ameri- 
 
 * Mr. Elton was lerl to the knowledge of these letters by Mr. 
 Bancroft the historian, and copied them from the original'MSS. 
 preserved in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 + Elton's Life, 114. 
 
 i It was first published in the Ehode Island Book in 1840. 
 
 § George Fox digg'd out of his Burrowes, or an Offer of Dis- 
 putation, on fourteen Proposal!* made this last Summer, 1672, 
 (so call'd), unto G. Fox. then present on Eode Island, in New 
 England, by E. W. As also how (G. Fox slily departing) the 
 Disputation went on, being managed three Dayes at Newport 
 on Eode Island, and one Day at Providence, between John 
 Stubbs, John Burnet, and William Edmundson, on the one 
 Part, and E. W. on the other. In which many Quotations 
 out of G. Fox and Ed. Burrowes Book in Folio are alledged. 
 With an Appendix, of some Scores of G. F., his simple lame 
 Answers to his Oppositcs in that Book quoted and replied to, 
 by E. W. of Providence in N. E. Boston, printed by John 
 Foster, 16T6. 
 
 H See Memoir of Eoger Williams, the Founder of the State 
 of Ehode Island, by James D. Knowles, for much careful his- 
 torical investigation on this and other poiuts. Mr. J. E. Bart- 
 lett has given an account of Edmundson's book, printed in 
 London 1718, in some Early Notices of Ehode Island, in the 
 Prwiil&tice Journal for 1855. 
 
 can Biography, is from an old painting put forth 
 a few years since, which was soon pronounced an 
 indifferent likeness of Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 CONFERENCE BE' 
 
 EN TEOTH AND PEACE. — FE03I THE 
 BLOODY TENENT. 
 
 Truth. In what dark corner of the world (siuect 
 Peace) are we two met? How hath this present 
 evil world banished me from all the coasta and 
 quarters of it? and how hath the righteous God in 
 judgment taken thee from the earth, Rev. vi. 4. 
 
 Peace. 'Tis lamentably true (blessed Truth) the 
 foundations of the world have long been out of 
 course : the gates of earth and hell have conspired 
 together to intercept our joyful meeting and our 
 holy kisses: with what a weary, tired wing have I 
 flown over nations, kingdoms, cities, towns, to find 
 out precious truth ? 
 
 Truth. The like enquiries in my flights and travels 
 have I made for Peace, and still am told, she hath 
 left the earth, and fled to heaven. 
 
 Peace. Dear Truth, what is the earth hut a dun- 
 geon of darkness, where Truth is not ? 
 
 Truth. And what is the Peace thereof but a fleet- 
 ing dream, thine ape and counterfeit? 
 
 Peace. Oh, where's the promise of the God of 
 Heaven, that Righteousness and Peace shall kiss 
 each other? 
 
 Truth. Patience (sweet Peace), these heavens and 
 earth are growing old, and shall be changed like a 
 garment, Psal. cii. They shall melt away, and be 
 burnt up with all the works that are therein; and 
 the most high Eternal Creator shall gloriously create 
 new heavens and new earth, wherein dwells right- 
 eousness, 2 Peter iii. Our kisses shall then have 
 their endless date of pure and sweetest joys ; till 
 then both thou and I must hope, and wait, and 
 bear the fury of the dragon's wrath, whose mon- 
 strous lies and furies shall with himself be cast into 
 the lake of fire, the second death, Rev. xx. 
 
 Peace. Most precious Truth, thou knowest we are 
 both pursued and laid for. Mine heart is full of 
 sighs, mine eyes with tears. Where can I better 
 veut my full oppressed bosom, than into thine, 
 whose faithful lips may for these few hours revive 
 my drooping, wandering spirits, and here begin to 
 wipe tears from mine eyes, and the eyes of my 
 dearest children? 
 
 Truth. Sweet daughter of the God of Peace, 
 begin, pour out thy sorrowes, vent thy complaints ; 
 how joyful am I to improve these precious minutes 
 to revive our hearts, both thine and mine, and the 
 hearts of all that love the Truth and Peace, Zaeh. viii. 
 
 Peace. Dear Truth, I know thy birth, thy nature, 
 thy delight. They that know thee, will prize thee 
 far above themselves and lives, and sell themselves 
 to buy thee. Well spake that famous Elizabeth to 
 her famous attorney, Sir Edward Coke: "Mr. 
 Attorney, go on as thou hast begun, and still 
 plead, not pro Domina Regina, but pro Domi/ia 
 Veritate. 
 
 Truth. 'Tis true, my crown is high, my sceptres 
 strong to break down strongest holds, to throw 
 down highest crowns of all that plead (though but 
 in thought) against me. Some few there are, but 
 oh, how few are valiant for the Truth and dare to 
 plead my cause, as my witnesses in sackcloth, 
 Revel, ii. While all men's tongues are bent like 
 boughs to shoot out lying words against me! 
 
 Peace. Oh, how could I spend eternal days and 
 endless dates at thy holy feet, in listening to the 
 precious oracles of thy mouth. All the words of 
 thy mouth are Truth, and there is no iniquity in 
 them. Thy lips drop as the honeycomb. But oh ! 
 since we must part anon, let us (as thou saidst) im- 
 
ROGER WILLIAMS. 
 
 37 
 
 prove our minutes, and (according as tliou pro- 
 niisedst) revive me with thy words, which are 
 sweeter than the honey, and the honeycomb. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Peace. "We have now (dear Truth) through the 
 gracious hand of God clambered up to the top of 
 this our tedious discourse. 
 
 Truth. Oh, 'tis mercy unexpressible that either thou 
 or I have had so long a breathing time, and that 
 together ! 
 
 Peace. If English ground must yet be drunk with 
 English blood, oh, where shall Peace repose her wea- 
 ried head and heavy heart? 
 
 Truth. Dear Peace, if thou find welcome, and the 
 God of peace miraculously please to quench these 
 all-devouring flames, yet where shall Truth find rest 
 from cruel persecutions ? 
 
 Peace. Oh, will not the authority of holy scrip- 
 tures, the commands and declarations of the Son of 
 God, therein produced by thee, together with all 
 the lamentable experiences of former and present 
 slaughters, prevail with the sons of men (especially 
 with the sons of Peace) to depart from the dens of 
 lions, and mountains of leopards, and to put on the 
 bowels (if not of Christianity, yet) of humanity each 
 to other! 
 
 Truth. Dear Peace, Habacuck's fishes keep their 
 constant bloody game of persecutions in the world's 
 mighty ocean; the greater taking, plundering, swal- 
 lowing up the lesser: happy he whose portion is 
 the God of Jacob! Who hath nothing to lose under 
 the sun, but hath a state, a house, an inheritance, a 
 name, a crown, a life, past all the plunderers, ra- 
 vishers, murtherers reach and fury! 
 
 Peace. But lo ! Who's here ? 
 
 Truth. Our sister Patience, whose desired com- 
 pany is as needful as delightful! 'Tis like the wolf 
 will send the scattered sheep iu one: the common 
 pirate gathers up the loose and scattered navyi the 
 slaughter of the witnesses by that bloody beast unites 
 the Independents and Presbyterians. The God of 
 Peace, the God of Truth will shortly seal this truth, 
 and confirm this witness, and make it evident to the 
 whole world, 
 
 That the doctrine of persecution for cause of con- 
 science, is most evidently and lamentably contrary 
 to the doctrine of Christ Jesus the Prince of Peace. 
 Amen. 
 
 PLEA FOE JOUN CLARKE. 
 
 The first is peace, commonly called among all 
 men, the King's Peace, among ourselves and among 
 all the King's subjects and friends, in this country 
 and wheresoever : and, further, at our agent's most 
 reasonable petition, the King prohibits all his sub- 
 jects to act any hostility toward our Natives inha- 
 biting with us without our consent, which hath 
 hitherto been otherwise practiced to our continual 
 and great grievance and disturbance. 
 
 The second jewel is Liberty. The first, of our 
 spirits, which neither Old nor New England knows 
 the like, nor no part of the world a greater. 
 
 2d. Liberty of our persons; no life, no limb taken 
 from us, no corporeal punishment, no restraint but 
 by known laws and agreements of our own making. 
 
 3. Liberty of our Estates, horses, cattle, lands, 
 goods, not a penny to be taken by any rate from us, 
 without every man's free debate by his deputies, 
 chosen by himself, and Bent to the General As- 
 sembly. 
 
 4. Liberty of society or corporation, of sending or 
 being sent to the General Assembly, of choosing and 
 being chosen to all offices and of making or repealing 
 all laws and constitutions among us. 
 
 5. A liberty, which other charters have not, to 
 wit, of attending to the laws of England, with a 
 favorable mitigation, viz. not absolutely, but respect- 
 ing our wilderness estate and condition. 
 
 I confess it were to be wished, that these dainties 
 might have fallen from God, and the King, like 
 showers and dews and manna from heaven, gratis 
 and free, like a joyful harvest or vintage, without 
 any pains of our husbandry ; but since the most holy 
 God, the first Cause, hath ordered second causes 
 and means and agents and instruments, it is no more 
 honest for us to withdraw in tlus case, than for men 
 to come to an Ordinary and to call for the best wine 
 and liquor, the best meats roast and baked, the best 
 attendance, <fec, and to be able to pay for all and 
 yet most unworthily steal away and not discharge 
 the reckoning. 
 
 My second witness is Common Gratitude, famous 
 among all mankind, yea, among brute beasts, even 
 the wildest and fiercest, for kindness received. It 
 is true, Mr. Clarke might have a just respect to his 
 own and the peace and liberty of his friends of his 
 own persuasion. But I believe the weight that 
 turned the scale with him was the truth of God, viz. 
 a just liberty to all men's spirits in spiritual matters, 
 together with the peace and prosperity of the whole 
 colony. This, I know, put him upon incredible 
 pains and travail, straits and anguish, day and night, 
 himself and his friends and ours, which I believe a 
 great sum of money would not hire him to wade 
 through the like again. I will not trouble you with 
 the allowances, payments, and gratuities of other 
 colonies in like eases. Only let me present you with 
 a famous story out of our English records. Henry 
 the Third, as I remember, fell out with the city of 
 London, took away their charter and set a governor 
 over them, which brought many evils and sorrows 
 on them. But Doctor Redman, so called, pacified 
 the King's anger and procured a restitution of their 
 charter, though with great charges and payments of 
 moneys. Sow while this Redman lived, they ho- 
 nored him as a father and heaped all possible gra- 
 tuities upon Mm; and when he died they decreed 
 that the Lord Mayor and Aldermen and chief citi- 
 zens, should yearly and solemrdy visit his tomb, 
 which mine eyes have seen performed in the public 
 walks in Paul's, and I presume, it is practised to this 
 day. I will not trouble you with the application of 
 this story, but present you with my third Witness 
 of the fairness of this matter, which is Christianity, 
 which we all pretend to, though in various and dif- 
 ferent persuasions. This witness soars high above 
 Common justice and Common gratitude, yea, above 
 all religions. This not only speaks home for due 
 payment and due thankfulness, but of doing good for 
 evil, of paying blessing for cursing, of praying for 
 enemies and persecutors, of selling houses and lands, 
 yea, of laying down lives for others. Common jus- 
 tice would not, Common gratitude would not, least 
 of all will Christianity, employ a public messenger 
 unto a mighty King and there leave him to shift for 
 his living and means to go through so high a service, 
 nor leave him to shift for moneys and to mortgage 
 his house and lands to carry on our business and 
 thus to forfeit and lose them ; and lost they are, a3 
 all must see, except a speedy redemption save them. 
 Shall we say we are christians, yea but ingenuous 
 or just men, to ride securely, hi a troublous sea and 
 time, by a new cable and anchor of Mr. Clarke's 
 procuring and to be so far from satisfying his en- 
 gagement about them, that we turn him adrift to 
 languish and sink, with his back broke, for putting 
 under his shoulder, to ease us. "Which of you," 
 said Christ Jesus to his enemies, " will see an ox or a 
 sheep fall into a pit and not pull it out on the Sab- 
 
38 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 bath day?" What beast can labor harder, in plough- 
 ing, drawing, or carrying, than Mr. Clarke hath done 
 so long a time, and with so little provender? Shall 
 we now, when he looks for rest at night, tumble 
 him by our neglects into a ditch of sadness, grief, 
 poverty, and ruin? 
 ******* 
 
 If we wholly neglect this business, what will be- 
 come of our credit? Rhode-Island, in the Greek 
 language, is an Isle of Roses, and so the King's Ma- 
 jesty was pleased to resent it; and his honorable 
 commissioners in their last letter to the Massachu- 
 setts from the eastward, gave Rhode-Island and this 
 whole colony an honorable testimony which is like 
 to be pointed to the view of the whole world. Shall 
 we now turn our roses into hemlock and our fra- 
 grant ointment into carrion? Our own names, in a 
 righteous way, ought to be more precious to us than 
 thousands of gold or silver, how much infinitely 
 more precious, the name of the most Holy and most 
 High and his holy truth of soul-liberty amongst us. 
 
 JOHN CLAEKE, 
 
 The friend of Roger Williams, was one of the 
 earliest authors of Rhode Island. He was born 
 in 1G09, and is supposed to have been a native 
 of Bedfordshire. He was educated as a physi- 
 cian. Soon after his emigration to Massachu- 
 setts he publicly claimed, with Roger Williams, 
 full license for religious belief. He was one of 
 the eighteen, who on the seventh of March 1637-8, 
 having formed themselves into an association, 
 purchased Aquetneck and became the Founders of 
 Rhode Island. In 1644, he formed and became 
 the pastor of the Baptist Church at Newport, a 
 charge he retained until his death. In 1649 he 
 was treasurer of the colony. In 1651 he visited 
 his friends at Lynn, and while preaching there on 
 the forenoon of Sunday, July 20, was arrested, 
 compelled to attend meeting in the afternoon, and 
 on the 31st, after trial, condemned to pay a fine 
 of twenty pounds. He wrote from prison pro- 
 posing a discussion of his theological principles, a 
 course which had been suggested by the judge, 
 Endicott, in passing sentence ; but the challenge 
 was not taken up, and Clarke soon after paying 
 his fine, was ordered to leave the colony. In 
 1651 he went with Roger Williams on an embassy 
 to England, where he remained until he obtained 
 the second charter of the colony dated July 8, 
 1663. He published in London in 1652, III News 
 from New England* It contains a narrative of 
 his difficulties and a discussion of various theolo- 
 gical points, with an inculcation of the great doc- 
 trine of toleration. The work is reprinted in the 
 last volume (second of the fourth series) of the Mas- 
 sachusetts Historical Society, where it occupies 113 
 octavo pages. Its style is diffuse, the sentences 
 being of intolerable length, but is in general ani- 
 mated, and passages occasionally occur which ap- 
 proach to eloquence. 
 
 After his return, Clarke was elected for three suc- 
 cessive years deputy governor of the colony. He 
 
 * HI News from New England, or a Narrative of New Eng- 
 land's Persecution, wherein is declared that while old England 
 is becoming new, NewEngland is become old. Also four pro- 
 posals to the Honoured Parliament and Council of State, touch- 
 ing the way to Propagate the Gospel of Christ (with small 
 charge and great safety), both in Old England and New. Also 
 four conclusions touching the faith and order of the Gospel of 
 Christ, out of bis last Will and Testament, confirmed aud jus- 
 tified. 
 
 died at Newport in 1676, childless, and by his 
 will, directed the annual income produced by his 
 farm (which has amounted to about $200*) to he 
 given to the poor, and employed for the promo- 
 tion of religion and learning. The same instru- 
 ment bears testimony to his learning as well as 
 charity, as he also bequeathes " to his dear friend " 
 Richard Bailey, his Hebrew and Greek books, 
 with a Concordance and Lexicon written by 
 himself. He also left a paper expressing his Cal- 
 vinistic belief. 
 
 SAMUEL GOETON. 
 
 Samuel Gorton was born in the town of Gorton, 
 England, where his ancestors had resided for 
 many generations. " I was not brought up," he 
 says, in a letter written to Nathaniel Morton, the 
 annalist, "in the schools of human learning, and 
 I bless God that I never was." In his address to 
 Charles the Second, in 1679, he speaks of "his 
 mother," the Church of England, but in 1636 we 
 find him emigrating from the city of London, 
 where he was engaged in business as a clothier, 
 to Boston, that he might " enjoy liberty of con- 
 science, in respect to faith towards God, and for 
 no other end." After a short residence in Boston, 
 not finding the theology there prevalent to his 
 taste, he removed to Plymouth, where his wife's 
 servant, having smiled in church, "wr.s threat- 
 ened with banishment from the colony as a com- 
 mon vagabond.''t Gorton incurred odium by his 
 defence of the offender, which was increased by 
 his success as a preacher in drawing off hearers 
 from the Plymouth church. This was peculiarly 
 distasteful to the pastor, the Rev. Ralph Smith, 
 who was instrumental in his arraignment and 
 conviction on the charge of heresy. The court, 
 Gorton says, "proceeded to fine and imprison- 
 ment, together with sentence given, that my 
 family should depart out of my own hired house 
 within the space of fourteen days, upon the 
 penalty of another great sum of money (besides 
 my fine paid), and their further wrath and dis- 
 pleasure, which time to depart fell to be in a 
 mighty storm of snow as I have seen in the 
 country ; my wife being turned out of doors in 
 
 the said storm and myself to travel in the 
 
 wilderness I knew not whither, the people com- 
 forting my wife and children when I was gone 
 with this, that it was impossible for me to come 
 alive to any plantation."! This was in the win- 
 ter of 1637-8. 
 
 He removed to Aquetneck, or Rhode Island, 
 where he soon became involved in difficulty about 
 "a small trespass of swine." He was brought 
 before the governor, Coddington, who ordered, 
 " You that are for the king, lay hold on Gorton." 
 He again, on the other side, called forth, "All 
 you that are for the king, lay hold on Codding- 
 ton." He was whipped and banished from the 
 island. 
 
 He next removed to Providence, wh ere, in Janu- 
 ary, 1642, he purchased land at Pawtuxet. Here 
 he was followed, as at his previous Residences, by 
 those who sympathized with his doctrines. He 
 
 * Allen's Biog. Diet. 1836. 
 
 t Life of Gorton, by John M. Mackie, a work to which wc 
 are chiefly indebted in the preparation of this article. It is ono 
 of the series of American Biographies edited by Jared Sparks. 
 
 X Letter to Nath. Morton. 
 
. EDWARD JOHNSON ; JOHN" ELIOT. 
 
 39 
 
 soon took part, with his usual warmth, in a dis- 
 pute between the inhabitants of the settlements at 
 Moshassuck and Pawtuxet. His opponents, in the 
 absence of any chartered government of their own 
 colony, applied to Massachusetts Bay tor assistance. 
 That colony answered that they had " no calling 
 or warrant to interfere in their contentions." A 
 second application in September, 1642, was con- 
 strued into an admission of the jurisdiction of 
 Massachusetts Bay, and Gorton was summoned 
 to Boston. ' He returned a reply on the 20th of 
 November, denying the jurisdiction of the " men 
 of Massachusetts," in which he was clearly in the 
 right; and again removed in 1642 to lands pur- 
 chased at Shawomet, from a sachem called Mian- 
 tonomo. It was not long, however, before two 
 inferior sachems, acknowledging the jurisdiction 
 of Massachusetts, were instigated to claim the 
 purchased lands as their property. The inhabit- 
 ants of Shawomet were cited to appear at Boston 
 to answer the complaint of these sachems. On 
 their refusal to do so an armed commission was 
 sent to settle the affair. The negotiations failed, 
 and Gorton finally consented to appear, with his 
 followers, at Boston. On their arrival the ques- 
 tion of the title to the lands was dropped, and 
 they were tried for heresy. Gorton was convict- 
 ed, and, narrowly escaping the punishment of 
 death, was sentenced to " be confined to Charles- 
 town, there to be set on work, and to wear such 
 bolts or irons, as may hinder his escape, and to 
 continue during the pleasure of the court." In 
 case he should preach or publish his doctrines he 
 was to be put to death. In January, 1644, this 
 punishment was commuted to banishment. Gor- 
 ton repaired with his followers to Aquetneck, 
 where they persuaded the sachems to deed their 
 lands, and place themselves under the protection 
 of the English crown. In the same year he sailed 
 from New Amsterdam for England, where ho 
 published, in 1646, his tract, entitled Simplicities 
 Defence against Seven-Headed Policy. He also 
 preached on several occasions to large audiences. 
 He returned in 1648 to Boston, with a letter from 
 the Earl of Warwick, requesting that he might 
 be allowed to pass through Massachusetts unmo- 
 lested, and on his arrival at Shawomet, named 
 the place Warwick, in acknowledgment of this 
 and other services from that nobleman. He had 
 secured, while in England, the protection of the 
 government, and passed the remainder of his days 
 in tranquillity. He died at an advanced age in 
 the latter part of the year 1677, leaving several 
 children, one of whom, Samuel, lived to the age 
 of ninety-four. His sect seems to have survived 
 him abont a century, as President Stiles, of Yale 
 College, remarks, in his manuscript diary on visit- 
 ing at Providence, November 18, 1771, Mr. John 
 Angell, aged eighty years : — " He is a Gortonist, 
 and the only one I have seen. Gorton lives now 
 only in him ; his only disciple left." 
 
 In addition to " Simplicitie's Defence," a tract 
 of one hundred and eleven pages quarto, which 
 was reprinted in 1647, and has also been repub- 
 lished in the second volume of the Transactions 
 of the Rhode Island Historical Society, Gorton 
 wrote a commentary on the one hundred and 
 tenth psalm, with the title of An Incorruptible 
 Key, composed of the ex. Psalm, wherewith you 
 may Open the rest of the Holy Scriptures, 1647, 
 
 pp. 240 ; Saltmarsh returned from the Dead, a 
 commentary on the General Epistle of James, 4to. 
 pp. 108; and An Antidote against th-e common 
 Plague of the World, a commentary on the de- 
 nunciations of the scribes and pharisees in the 
 twenty-third chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. 
 A MS. commentary on chapter vi. 9-13 of the 
 same Gospel, in 130 folio pages, is preserved in 
 the library of the Rhode Island Historical Society. 
 
 EDWAED JOHNSON. 
 Edward Joiixson is supposed to have, emigrated 
 to New England with Governor Winthrop in 
 1630. He was a prominent man in the organiza- 
 tion of the town and church of Woburn in 1642, 
 was chosen its representative in 1 643, and annu- 
 ally re-elected, with the exception of the year 
 1648, until 1671. He held the office of recorder 
 of the town from its incorporation until his death 
 in 1682. His Wonder Working Providence of 
 Skin's Saviour, in New England, is a history of 
 the country " from the English planting in the 
 year 1628 until the year 1652." It was published 
 in London in 1654, and reprinted in the second 
 series of the Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., where it forms 
 about 230 pages. It is somewhat rambling and 
 diffuse in style and matter, and contains a num- 
 ber of verses on various New England worthies, 
 of which the following, on Hooker, is an average 
 specimen. 
 
 Come, Hooker, come forth of thy native soil ; 
 
 Christ, I will run, says Hooker, thou hast set 
 My feet at large, here spend thy last day's toil ; 
 
 Thy rhetoric shall people's affections whet. 
 
 Thy golden tongue and pen Christ eausM to be 
 The blaziug of his golden truths profound, 
 
 Thou sorry worm, it's Christ wrought this in thee ; 
 What Christ hath wrought must needs be very 
 sound. 
 
 Then look on Hooker's works, they follow him 
 To grave, this worthy resteth there awhile : 
 
 Die shall he not that hath Christ's warrior been ; 
 Much less Christ's truth, cheer'd by his people's 
 toil. 
 
 Thou angel bright, by Christ for light now made; 
 
 Throughout the world as seasoning salt to be, 
 Although in dust thy body mouldering fade, 
 
 Thy Head's in heaven, and hath a crown for thee. 
 
 The opening of his preface is pithily expressed, 
 
 Good Reader : As large gates to small edifices, so 
 are long prefaces to little books; therefore I will 
 briefly inform thee that here thou shalt find the 
 time when, the manner hov, the cause why, and the 
 great success which it hath pleased the Lord to give 
 to this handful of his praising saints in N. Eng., cfec 
 
 JOHN ELIOT, 
 
 <ybiUn. 
 
 l^V/— 
 
 TnE " Apostle to the Indians," was born at 
 Nasing, County of Essex, England, in 1604, and 
 educated, like many of the early New England 
 divines, at Cambridge. He was afterwards usher 
 to Hooker in his grammar-school at Little Bad- 
 dow, near Chelmsford, Essex. He emigrated to 
 New England in 1631, arriving in Boston har- 
 bor on the ninth of November. He was soou 
 
40 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE, 
 
 after followed by a young lady to -whom he had 
 been betrothed in England, and on her arrival 
 they were married. He had commenced preach- 
 ing before he left England, and had promised the 
 friends to whom he officiated that if they would 
 come to New England he would maintain the 
 same relation to them in the new as in the old 
 home. They did so, and settling at Roxbury 
 chose him as their pastor. 
 
 Eliot was intrusted, in company with Welde and 
 Eichard Mather, with the preparation of the 
 metrical version of the Psalms published in 1640, 
 and known as the " Old Bay Psalm Book." 
 
 In 1646 an order was passed requesting the 
 elders of the churches to take into consideration 
 the subject of the conversion of the Indians. Eliot, 
 who had some time before this commenced the 
 study of the Indian language with a native, " a 
 pregnant-witted young man," who could speak 
 English, and was especially interested in the race 
 from his belief that they were the long lost tribes 
 of Israel, came forward to respond to the call. 
 Notice was given of his intention, and on the 28th 
 of October, 1646, he proceeded with three others 
 to address for the first time in history, the North 
 American Indians on the subject of Christianity. 
 The text of his sermon delivered in English, and 
 translated sentence by sentence by an interpreter, 
 was from Ezekiel xxxvii. 9, 10.* It was anhour 
 and a quarter long, but listened to with attention 
 by its auditors. A conversation followed, in which 
 the Indians propounded several questions on the 
 topics of the discourse, and expressed a wish to 
 live together in a town. 
 
 A second assembly was held a fortnight after, 
 when Eliot addressed them in their own language. 
 Other meetings followed, and a settlement of 
 '• praying Indians," as they were styled, was form- 
 ed, called Nonantum. The Indians assembled, 
 lived in accordance with the instructions they had 
 received, and labored diligently for their subsist- 
 ence, under the instructions of their missionary, 
 who taught them the use of farming tools. 
 
 A second effort was made at Neponset, within 
 the town of Dorchester, and with similar success. 
 The Indians at Concord, Pawtucket, and on Cape 
 Cod, were also visited and addressed by Eliot. 
 
 Two tracts, Tlie Day Breaking, if not the 
 Sun Rising of the Gospel with the Indians in 
 New England,, by an anonymous author (proba- 
 bly the Rev. John "Wilson, "of Boston), and The 
 Clear Sunshine of the Gospel oreaking forth vpon 
 the Indians in New England, by the Eev. Tho- 
 mas Shepard, of Cambridge, were published in 
 England in 1647 and ft48. The accounts they 
 gave of these transactions were read with interest, 
 and an appeal was made to Parliament for aid in 
 the cause, which resulted in the formation in 1 640 
 of a corporation, " The President and Society for 
 the Propagation of the Gospel in New England." 
 Money was collected and transmitted to preachers 
 and teachers among the Indians. On the Resto- 
 ration, in 1660, the society was preserved from 
 
 * Then said he unto me. Prophesy unto the ■wind. Prophesy, 
 eon of maD, and say to the wind. Thus saith the Lord God ; 
 Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these 
 slain, that they may live. 
 
 So I prophesied as be commanded me. and the breath came 
 npon them, and tbey lived, and stood up upon their feet, an 
 exceeding great array. 
 
 extinction by the exertions of the Hon. Robert 
 Boyle, who was made its president. This distin- 
 guished man took a deep interest in Eliot's efforts. 
 He maintained a correspondence with him, por- 
 tions of which have been published in the collec- 
 tions of the Massachusetts Historical Society; 
 and by his influence obtained an annual stipend 
 of fifty pounds from the Society for the mission- 
 ary. 
 
 Meanwhile Eliot was instructing the Indians in 
 Christianity and civilization ; and in 1651, found- 
 ed the Indian town of Natick, eighteen miles 
 southwest of Boston. He framed laws for the 
 inhabitants, which were an exact copy of those of 
 the Pentateuch. In 1660, a church was formed, 
 and the Indian converts, having given sufficient 
 testimony of the sincerity of their faith to satisfy 
 the prudent and practical missionary, were admit- 
 ted to the Holy Communion. 
 
 In a letter written to Winslow, in 1649, Eliot 
 had expressed his desire to translate " some part 
 of the scriptures" into the Indian tongue. In 
 1651 we find by a letter written by him to Eng- 
 land, that he was engaged on the task, but with 
 " no hope to see the Bible translated, much les3 
 printed, in my days." He, however, kept steadily 
 at work, and the society in England supplying 
 funds, the New Testament in the Indian language, 
 commenced in 1658 at the first press set up in 
 the colony at Harvard, was published in Septem- 
 ber, 166L In 1663, the Old Testament was add- 
 ed to it, a catechism and translation of the Bay 
 Psalm Book being included in the volume. A. 
 dedication to the king was prefixed to the copies 
 sent to England, but to few of those circulated at 
 home. 
 
 This Bible was printed by Samuel Green and 
 Marmaduke Johnson, It was the first, and for 
 nearly a century after, the only version of the 
 Scriptures published in the colonies. A second 
 edition of the New Testament appeared in 16S0, 
 and of the Old in 1685. Two thousand copies 
 were printed of these, and fifteen hundred, it is 
 estimated, of the former editions. Eliot received 
 no remuneration for his labor, and contributed 
 from his small salary to defray the expense of 
 publication. The translation is written in a dia- 
 lect of the Mohegan tongue, which has long since 
 become extinct. The work has been of great 
 service to the students of the Indian languages, 
 and although it has proved, by the dispersion of 
 those for whom it was designed, of less practical 
 benefit than its author anticipated, it must ever be 
 honored as a monument of Christian zeal, patient 
 toil, and earnest scholarship. 
 
 Eliot published in 1664 a translation of Baxter's 
 Call to the Unconverted in the Indian language, 
 and in 1666 an Indian grammar. Several com- 
 munities of Christian Indians had been formed, 
 who were progressing satisfactorily in a life in 
 accordance with their profession, when an inter- 
 ruption occurred to their advance, which proved 
 eventually fatal to their existence. This was 
 King Philip's war. The "praying Indians" 
 suffered from the hatred of the red men, as well 
 as from the distrust of the white, and at the close 
 of the contest many of their communities had 
 been broken up. 
 
 Eliot had, throughout the whole period of his 
 Indian labors, retained his connexion with Rox- 
 
JOHN ELIOT. 
 
 41 
 
 bury, and had also found time to prepare several 
 short religious treatises. He died at the age of 
 eighty-six, on the 20th of May, 1690. 
 
 Eliot's Indian grammar, and his letters to the 
 Hon. Robert Boyle, have been reprinted in the 
 Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. 
 His other writings are The Christian Common- 
 wealth, a treatise on government, framed from 
 the Scriptures for his Indian converts, which he 
 published in London in 1654, with a preface 
 recommending its adoption to the people of Eng- 
 land ;* The Communion of Churches ; or the 
 Divine Management of Gospel Churches by the 
 Ordinance of Councils, constituted in Order, 
 according to the Scriptures, a tract published in 
 1665 ; and a volume of one hundred and thirty- 
 one pages, published in 1678, entitled, The Har- 
 mony of the Gospels in the holy History of the 
 Humiliation and Sufferings of Jesus Christ, from 
 his Incarnation to his Death and Burial. 
 
 In addition to the translations already men- 
 tioned, he published in 1685 a version of the 
 " Practice of Piety," a popular devotional work, 
 written by Lewis Bayly, chaplain to James I., and 
 Bishop of Bangor, from 1616 to his death in 
 1632, and in 1688, of two tracts by Thomas 
 Shepard, "The Sincere Convert," and "The 
 Sound Believer." He also published an Indian 
 primer. 
 
 In his intercourse with his parishioners, and in 
 his private life, Eliot was remarkable for mild- 
 ness, meekness, and generosity. He combined 
 with the latter virtue a total forgetfulness of self, 
 and his household affairs would often have been 
 in sorry plight, had he not had a good wife who 
 shared his old age as she had his youth, to look 
 after them. She one day, by way of a joke, 
 pointing out their cows before the door, asked 
 him whose they were, and found that he did not 
 know. The treasurer of his church paying him 
 a portion of his salary on one occasion, tied the 
 coin in the pastor's pocket-handkerchief with 
 an abundance of knots, as a check to his free- 
 dom of disbursement in charity. On his way 
 home, the good man stopped to visit a destitute 
 family, and was soon tugging at the knots to get 
 at his money. Quickly growing impatient he 
 gave the whole to the mother of the family, say- 
 ing, " Here, my dear, take it ; I believe the Lord 
 designs it all for you." He showed an equally liberal 
 disregard of self in his dealings with his congre- 
 gation, proposing in place of the usual rate or tax 
 by which the clergy was supported, to depend for 
 his maintenance on the voluntary contributions of 
 his congregation, and towards the close of his life 
 suggested the appointment of an assistant, on 
 whom he offered to bestow his entire salary. His 
 congregation answered, that they would count his 
 very presence worth a salary, when he should be 
 so superannuated as to do no further service to 
 them. 
 
 The last years of his life were much occupied 
 with endeavors to promote education among the 
 negroes who had been introduced into the coun- 
 try. " He did not live," says Mather,t " to make 
 much progress in the undertaking." 
 
 * It is reprinted in tho third series of the Collections of the 
 Mass. Hist. Soc, volume ix. 
 t Mather's Magnalia, 
 
 Extremely simple and frugal in his personal 
 habits, though by no means ascetic, he opposed 
 violently the use of tobacco, and with Puritan 
 consistency, the wearing of long hair or of wigs. 
 
 Out of six children, but two survived him. 
 " My desire was," he said of the others, " that they 
 should have served God on earth ; but if God will 
 choose to have them rather serve him in heaven, 
 I have nothing to object against it, but his will 
 be done." 
 
 Eliot's life has been written by Convers Fran- 
 cis, in Sparks's American Biography, occupying an 
 entire volume of that series. Mather devotes 
 many pages of the Magnalia to the record of his 
 good words and works — pithily and quaintly 
 remarking of him, that "lie was a Boniface as 
 well as a Benedict," and gives us a report, " writ 
 from him as he uttered it," of one of his ser- 
 mons, " a paraphrase that I have heard himself 
 to make upon that Scripture, ' Our conversation 
 is in heaven." 
 
 Behold, said he, the ancient and excellent cha- 
 racter of a true Christian ; 'tis that which Peter 
 calls "holiness in all manner of conversation;" you 
 shall not find a Christian out of the way of godly 
 conversation. For, first, a seventh part of our 
 time is all spent in heaven, when we are duly 
 zealous for, and zealous on the Sabbath of God. 
 Besides, God has written on the head of the Sab- 
 bath, remember, which looks both forwards and 
 backwards, and thus a good part of the week will 
 be spent in sabbatizing. Well, but for the rest of 
 our time! Why, we shall have that spent in heaven, 
 ere we have done. For, secondly, we have many 
 days for both fasting and thanksgiving in our pil- 
 grimage; and here are so many Sabbaths more. 
 Moreover, thirdly, we have our lectures every week; 
 and pious people won't miss them, if they can help 
 it. Furthermore, fourthly, we have our private 
 meetings, wherein we pray, and sing, and repeat 
 sermons, and confer together about the things of 
 God; and being uow come thus far, we are in heaven 
 almost every day. But a little farther, fifthly, we 
 perform family-duties every day ; we have our 
 morning and evening sacrifices, wherein having 
 read the Scriptures to our families, we call upon 
 the name of God, and ever now and then carefully 
 catechise those that are under our charge. Sixthly, 
 we shall also have our daily devotions in our 
 closets; wherein unto supplication before the Lord, 
 we shall add some serious meditation upon his word : 
 a David will be at this work no less than thrice a 
 day. Seventhly, we have likewise many scores of 
 ejaculations in a day; and these we have, like Ne- 
 hemiah, in whatever place we come into. Eighthly, 
 we have our occasional thoughts and our occasional 
 talks upon spiritual matters ; and we have our occa- 
 sional acts of charity, wherein we do like the inha- 
 bitants of heaven every day. Ninthly, in our call- 
 ings, in our civil callings, we keep up heavenly 
 frames ; we buy and sell, and toil ; yea, we eat and 
 drink, with some eye both to the command and the 
 honor of God in all. Behold, I have not now left 
 an inch of time to be carnal ; it is all engrossed for 
 heaven. And yet, lest here should not be enough, 
 lastly, we have our spiritual warfare. We are 
 always encountering the enemies of our souls, which 
 continually raises our hearts unto our Helper and 
 Leader in the heavens. Let no man say, " 'Tis im- 
 possible to live at this rate;" for we have known 
 some live thus; and others that have written of 
 such a life have but spun a web out of their own 
 blessed experiences. New England has example of 
 
42 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 this life: though, alas! 'tis to be lamented that the 
 distractions of the world, in too many professors, do 
 becloud the beauty of an heavenly conversation. 
 In fine, our employment lies in heaven. In the morn- 
 ing, if we ask, " Where am I to be to-day ?" our souls 
 must answer, " In heaven." In the evening, if we 
 ask, " Where have I been to-day?" our souls may 
 answer, " In heaven." If thou art a believer, thou 
 art no stranger to heaven while thou livest ; and 
 when thou diest, heaven will be no strange place to 
 thee; no, thou hast been there a thousand times 
 before. 
 
 Gookin, in his Historical Collections of the 
 Indians, gives this pleasing picture of Eliot's 
 teaching : — 
 
 Besides his preaching to them, he framed two 
 catechisms in the Indian tongue, containing the 
 principles of the Christian religion ; a lesser for 
 children, and a larger for older persons. These also 
 he communicated unto the Indians gradually, a few 
 questions at a time, according unto their capacity 
 to receive them. The questions lie propounded one 
 lecture day, were answered the next lecture day. 
 His manner was, after he had begun the meeting 
 with prayer, then first to catechise the children ; 
 and they would readily answer well for the gene- 
 rality. Then would he encourage them with some 
 small gift, as an apple, or a 6mall biscuit, which he 
 caused to be bought for the purpose. And, by this 
 prudence and winning practice, the children were 
 induced with delight to get into their memories the 
 principles of the Christian religion. After he had 
 done the children, then would he take the answers 
 of the catechetical questions of the elder persons ; 
 and they did generally answer judiciously. AVhen 
 the catechizing was past, he would preach to them 
 upon some portion of scripture, for about three 
 quarters of an hour; and then give liberty to the 
 Indians to propound questions, as I intimated before; 
 and in the close, finish all with prayer. 
 
 ^«2> amti 
 
 Daniel Gookin, a native of Kent, in England, 
 was among the early settlers of Virginia, and in 
 1644 removed to Cambridge, in consequence of 
 his doctrinal sympathies with the New England 
 Puritans. He was soon appointed captain of the 
 military company of the town, and a member of 
 the House of Deputies. In 1652 he was elected 
 assistant or magistrate, and appointed in 1656 by 
 the General Court, superintendent of all the In- 
 dians who acknowledged the government of Mas- 
 sachusetts, an office he retained until his death. 
 In 1656 he visited England, and had an interview 
 with Cromwell, who authorized him to invite the 
 people of New England to remove to Jamaica, 
 then recently conquered from Spain. In 1662 he 
 was appointed one of the two licensers of the 
 Cambridge printing-press. His work, Historical 
 Collections of the Indians in New England, 
 bears date 1674. The breaking out of King 
 Philip's war soon after, led to the passage of 
 several measures against the Natick and other 
 Indians who had submitted to the English. 
 Gookin was the only magistrate who joined 
 Eliot in opposing these proceedings, and, conse- 
 quently, subjected himself to reproaches from his 
 
 fellow-magistrates and insult in the public streets. 
 He took an active part on the side of the people 
 against the measures which terminated in the 
 withdrawal of the charter cf the colony, in 1686. 
 He died the next year, so poor, that we find John 
 Eliot soon after soliciting a gift of ten pounds 
 from Eobert Boyle, for his widow. 
 
 There is an account of Gookin in the first vo- 
 lume of the Massachusetts Historical Collections, 
 appended to the reprint of his Collections of the 
 Indians — one of the most pleasing of the original 
 narratives of the aborigines. 
 
 It was by Eliot's influence that an attempt was 
 made to educate Indian youths with reference to 
 Harvard, which encouraged the work. The plan, 
 however, proved unsuccessful. The health of 
 some of the students failed, and the courage of 
 others ; a number fell oft' to different occupations. 
 The name of one graduate is on the catalogue of 
 the University, of the year 1665, "Caleb Chees- 
 hahteaumuck Indus." He soon afterwards died 
 of consumption. Gookin speaks of another, "a 
 good scholar and a pious man, as I judge,'' who, 
 within a few months of the time of taking his 
 degree, made a voyage to his relatives at Martha's 
 Vineyard, and was drowned by shipwreck or mur- 
 dered by the savages on his return. At a later 
 day, in 1714, an Indian student of Harvard, 
 named Larnel, spoken of as "an extraordinary 
 Latin poet and a good Greek one," died during 
 his college course.* 
 
 THOMAS SHEPAED. 
 Thomas Sbepaed, a writer whose reputation has 
 been among the most permanent of his brethren 
 of the early New England clergy, was born at 
 Towcester, near Northampton, England, in 1605, 
 and educated at Emanuel college, Cambridge. 
 On obtaining the degree of Master of Arts, he 
 became a preacher at Earls Coin, in Essex, where 
 a lecturti had been established by endowment for 
 
 'Jhtuuti) Sflepewi 
 
 three years. His services proved so acceptable 
 to the people, that at the expiration of the time 
 they raised a voluntary subscription for his sup- 
 port, and he remained among them until silenced 
 not long after for non-conformity. 
 
 After passing some time "with the kind family 
 of the Harlakendens,"| he removed to Butter- 
 crambe, near York, where he resided in the 
 family of Sir Richard Darby, whose daughter he 
 married, and preached in the neighborhood, until 
 again silenced. After a third attempt, at Hed- 
 don, in Northumberland^ with like result, he 
 
 * Mass. Hist. Soc. Col., First Series, i. 173. Quincy's Hist, 
 of Harvard, i. 444. 
 
 t These lectures were originally established by benevolent . 
 persons, as a provision for spiritual instruction in large or des- 
 titute parishes, to aid the established clergy, and in connexion 
 with the national church. 
 
 X The second son of Mr. Harlakenden, Roger, accompanied 
 Shepard to New England, settled with him at Cambridge, and 
 died at the eariy age of twenty-seven. " He was," says Win- 
 throp, "a very godly man, and of good use, both in the com- 
 monwealth and in the church. He was buried with military 
 honor, because he was lieutenant-colonel. He left behind a 
 virtuous gentlewoman and two daughters. He died in great 
 peace, and left a sweet memorial behind him of his piety and 
 virtue. Young's Chron. Mass. Bay, 51T. 
 
 § According to Mather, he hired a house in this place which 
 
THOMAS SHEPARD. 
 
 43 
 
 resolved to emigrate to New England. He em- 
 barked with Cotton at Yarmouth, at the close of 
 the year 1634. The vessel, encountering a storm 
 in Yarmouth roads, returned to port in a disabled 
 condition. Passing a few months in retirement, 
 he again sailed in July from Gravesend, "in a 
 bottom too decayed and feeble indeed for such a 
 voyage; but yet well accomodated with the 
 society of Mr. Wilson, Mr. Jones, and other 
 christians, which more significantly made good 
 the name of the ship, the Defence."* The vessel 
 sprang a leak, which was, however, got under, 
 and Mr. Shepard landed in New England on the 
 third of October. On the first of the following 
 February he succeeded Mr. Hooker as minister at 
 Cambridge, where he remained until his death, at 
 the early age of forty-four years, August 25th, 
 1649. 
 
 " The published composures of this laborious 
 person," to me Cotton Mather's phrase, were, 
 Theses Sabbat icce ; The Matter of the Visible 
 Church; The Church Membership of Little 
 Children; a letter entitled, New England's 
 Lamentation for Old England's Err ours ; several 
 sermons; The Sincere Convert; The Sound Be- 
 liever; and the Parable of the Ten Virgins 
 Opened, published after his death in a folio 
 volume. The two last mentioned of these works, 
 with his Meditations and Spiritual Experience, 
 and a treatise on Evangelical Conversion, have 
 been reprinted in England within the last quarter 
 of a century, in a popular form. 
 
 Shepard left an autobiography, which remained 
 unpublished until 1832, when it was printed for 
 the use of the Shepard Congregational Society at 
 Cambridge. It is also printed in the Chronicles 
 of the First Planters of the Colony of Massachu- 
 setts Bay, collected and edited by the Rev. Alex- 
 ander Young, where it occupies fifty-eight octavo 
 pages. 
 
 It is written in a simple, earnest style, and is 
 occupied in a great measure with an account of 
 his spiritual experiences, reminding us somewhat 
 of John Bunyan. He received the name of the 
 doubting Apostle, be tells us, because be was born 
 "upon the fifth day of November, called the 
 Powder Treason day, and that very hour of the 
 day wherein the Parliament should have been 
 blown up by Popish priests, which occasioned my 
 father to give me this name Thomas; because he 
 said, I would hardly believe that ever any such 
 wickedness should be attempted by men against 
 so religious and good a Parliament." Speaking of 
 his proposed removal to Coggeshall, he introduces 
 an anecdote of Thomas Hooker. " Mr. Hooker 
 only did object to my going thither; for being 
 but young and unexperienced, and there being an 
 old, yet shy and malicious minister in the town, 
 who did seem to give way to have it (the lecture) 
 there, did therefore say it was dangerous and un- 
 comfortable for little birds to build under the 
 nests of old ravens and kites." 
 
 ?h ?,ft J 5 ™ ' te " anted h l a wit «h, and performed prodigies in 
 SffiKP™ t h a ',ff T SvS ' aa he had P">™uslysilenced the 
 b£S3w "L b f" ^°" 1D S at two °' c!ock at ni ght at the Har- 
 lakenJer, homestead. Shepard himself says, "When we 
 
 Xltfh; ° D . 01SeS four or flTe m e? hts together we 
 hi 5S.S m by P I ayer >- t0 remoTe so sore a tr ' a| ; and the Lord 
 * AI th 0S " nd rem0Ted the tr °oble " 
 
 One of the most noticeable passages of the 
 work is the account of the shipwreck off Yar- 
 mouth. 
 
 In the year 1634, about the beginning of the win- 
 ter, we set sail from Harwich. And having gone 
 some few leagues on to the sea, the wind stopped us 
 that night, and so we cast anchor in a dangerous 
 place, and on the morning the wind grew fierce, and 
 rough against us full, and drave us toward the sands. 
 But the vessel being laden too heavy at the head, 
 would not stir for all that which the seamen could 
 do, but drave us full upon the sands near Harwich 
 harbour; and the ship did grate upon the sands, and 
 was in great danger. But the Lord directed one 
 man to cut some cable or rope in the ship, and so 
 she was turned about, and was beaten quite back- 
 ward toward Yarmouth, quite out of our way. 
 
 But while the ship was in this great danger, a 
 wonderful miraculous providence did appear to us. 
 For, one of the seamen, that he might save the ves- 
 sel, fell in when it was in that danger, and so was 
 carried out a mile or more from the ship^aud given 
 for dead and gone. The ship was then in such daa- 
 ger, that none could attend to follow him ; and when 
 it was out of the danger, it was a very great hazard 
 to the lives of any that should take the skitf to seek 
 to find him. Yet it pleased the Lord, that being 
 discerned afar off floating upon the waters, three of 
 the seamen adventured out upon the rough waters, 
 and at last, about an hour after he fell into the sea 
 (as we conjectured), they came and found him float- 
 ing upon the waters, never able to swim, but sup- 
 ported by a divine hand all this while. When the 
 men came to him, they were glad to find him, but 
 concluded he was dead, and so got him into the 
 skiff, and when he was there, tumbled him down as 
 one dead. Yet one of them said to the rest, " Let 
 us use what means we can, if there be life, to pre- 
 serve it;" and thereupon turned his head downward 
 for the water to run out. And having done so, the 
 fellow began to gasp and breathe. Then they ap- 
 plied other means they had: and so he began at last 
 to move, and then to speak, and by that time he 
 came to the ship, he was pretty well, and able to 
 walk. And so the Lord showed us his great power. 
 Whereupon a godly man in the ship then said, " This 
 man's danger and deliverance is a type of ours; for 
 he did fear dangers were near unto us, and that yet 
 the Lord's power should be shown in saving of us." 
 For bo, indeed, it was. For the wind did drive us 
 quite backward out of our way, and gave us no 
 place to anchor at until we came unto Yarmouth 
 roads — an open place at sea, yet fit for anchorage, 
 but otherwise a very dangerous place. And so we 
 came thither through many uncomfortable hazards, 
 within thirty hours, and cast anchor in Yarmouth 
 roads. Which when we had done, upon a Saturday 
 morning, the Lord sent a most dreadful and terrible 
 storm of wind from the west, so dreadful that to this 
 day the seamen call it Windy Saturday ; that it also 
 scattered many ships on divers coasts at that time, 
 and divers ships were cast away. One among the 
 rest, which was the seaman's ship who came with us 
 from Newcastle, was cast away, and he and all his 
 men perished. But when the wind thus arose, the 
 master cast all his anchors ; but the storm was so 
 terrible, that the anchors broke, and the ship drave 
 toward the sands, where we could not but be cast 
 away. Whereupon the master cries out that we 
 were dead men, and thereupon the whole company 
 go to prayer. But the vessel still drave so near to 
 the sands, that the master shot off two pieces of ord- 
 nance to the town, for help to save the passengers. 
 The town perceived it, and thousands came upon 
 
44 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 the Trails of Yarmouth, and looked upon us, hearing 
 we were New-England men, and pitied much, and 
 gave us for gone, because they saw other ships per- 
 ishing near unto us at that time ; but could not send 
 any help unto us, though much money was offered 
 by some to hazard themselves for us. 
 
 So the master not knowing what to do, it pleased 
 the Lord that there was one Mr. Cock, a drunken 
 fellow, but no seaman, yet one that had been at sea 
 often, and would come in a humor unto New Eng- 
 land with us ; whether it was to see the country, or 
 no, I cannot tell. But sure I am, God intended it 
 for good unto us, to make him an instrument to save 
 all our lives; for he persuaded the master to cut 
 down his mainmast. The master was unwilling to 
 it, and besotted, not sensible of ours and Mb own loss. 
 At lost this Cock calls for hatchets, tells the master, 
 " If you be a man, save the lives of your passengers, 
 cut down your mainmast." Hereupon he encou- 
 raged all the company, who were forlorn and hope- 
 less of life : and the seamen presently cut down the 
 mast aboard, just at that very time wherein we all 
 gave ourselves for gone, to see neither Old nor New 
 England, nor faces of friends any more, there being 
 near upon two hundred passengers in the ship. 
 And so when the mast was down, the master had 
 one little anchor left, and cast it out. But the ship 
 was driven away toward the sands still ; and the 
 6eamen came to us, and bid us look, pointing to the 
 place, where our graves should shortly be, conceiv- 
 ing also that the wind had broke off this anchor 
 also. So the master professed he had done what he 
 coidd, and therefore now desired us to go to prayer. 
 So Mr. Norton in one place, and myself in another 
 part of the ship, he with the passengers, and myself 
 with the mariners above decks, went to prayer, and 
 committed our souls and bodies unto the Lord that 
 gave them. 
 
 Immediately after prayer, the wind began to 
 abate, and the ship stayed. For the last anchor was 
 not broke, as we conceived, but only rent up with 
 the wind, and so drave, and was drawn along, 
 ploughing the sands with the violence of the wind ; 
 which abating after prayer, though still very terri- 
 ble, the ship was stopped just when it was ready to 
 be swallowed up of the sands, a very little way 
 off from it. And so we rid it out ; yet not without 
 fear of our lives, though the anchor stopped the 
 ship ; because the cable was let out) so far, that a 
 little rope held the cable, and the cable the little 
 anchor, and the little anchor the great ship, in this 
 great storm. But when one of the company per- 
 ceived that we were so strangely preserved, had 
 these words, " That thread we hang by will save us ;" 
 for so we accounted of the rope fastened to the an- 
 chor in comparison of the fierce storm. And so 
 indeed it did, the Lord showing his dreadful power 
 towards us, and yet his unspeakable rich mercy to 
 us, who, in depths of mercy, heard, nay, helped us, 
 when we could not cry through the disconsolate 
 fears we had, out of these depths of seas, and miseries. 
 
 Shepard's wife contracted a consumption in 
 consequence of exposure during the stormy pas- 
 sage in a crazy vessel across the Atlantic, and 
 died a few years after their arrival. He married 
 a second wife, a daughter of Thomas Hooker, and 
 the autobiography closes with a beautiful and pa- 
 thetic eulogy on her mild virtues. 
 
 In 1645 Shepard published a brief tract, New 
 England's Lamentations for Old England's Er- 
 rors* from which we quote a passage on tolera- 
 tion: 
 
 VIEWS OF TOLEEATION. 
 
 To cut off the hand of the magistrate from touch- 
 ing men for their consciences (which you also men- 
 tion), will certainly, in time (if it get ground), be 
 the utter overthrow, as it is the undermining, of the 
 Reformation begun. This opinion is but one of the 
 fortresses and strongholds of Sathan, to keep his head 
 from crushing by Christ's heel, who (forsooth), be- 
 cause he is crept into men's consciences, and because 
 conscience is a tender thing, no man must here med- 
 dle with him, as if consciences were made to be the 
 safeguard of sin and error, and Sathan himself, if 
 once they can creep into them. As for New Eng- 
 land, we never banished any for their consciences, 
 but for sinning against conscience, after due means 
 of conviction, or some other wickedness which they 
 had no conscience to plead for ; they that censure 
 New England for what they have done that way, 
 should first hear it speak before they condemn. We 
 have magistrates, that are gracious and zealous ; we 
 have ministers, that are aged and experienced, and 
 holy and wise ; no man was yet ever banished from 
 us, but they had the zeal and care of the one, the 
 holiness, learning, and best abilities of the other, 
 seeking their good before they were sent from the 
 coasts. And when they have been banished, as they 
 have had warrant from the word, so God from hea- 
 ven hath ever borne witness, by some strange hand 
 of his providence against them, either delivering 
 them up to vile lusts and sins, or to confusion amongst 
 themselves, or to some sudden and terrible deaths, 
 for their obstinacy against the light, and means used 
 to heal their consciences. I could tell you large 
 stories (if need were) of these things. 
 
 BOGEB CLAP. 
 
 b&frs* qCoo^ 
 
 * Xew England's Lamentation for Old England's present er- 
 
 Ohe of the most touching memorials of the New 
 England worthies, is the simple narrative of Cap- 
 tain Roger Clap of Dorchester, which he prepared 
 for the benefit of his children. The incidents it 
 contains are few, but the manner in which it re- 
 flects the spirit of the time makes it valuable as 
 an historical document, while it is far from being 
 without claims to attention in a literary point of 
 view. Roger Clap was horn at Sallom, Devon- 
 shire, in 1609, emigrated to Massachusetts in 
 1630, settled at Dorchester, served in the Peqnot 
 war, and died in 1691. He had a large family, 
 who bore the genuine Puritan names of Samuel, 
 "William, Elizabeth, Experience, "Waitstill, Pre- 
 served, Hopestill, "Wait, Thanks, Desire, Thomas, 
 Unite, and Supply. His manuscript "Memoirs'' 
 were first published by the Rev. Thomas Prince, 
 the antiquarian, in 1731, and have been five times 
 reprinted, the last impression having been issued 
 by the Dorchester Historical Society, in a duo- 
 decimo volume. 
 
 NEW ENGLAND EETEOSPECT. 
 
 In those days God did cause his people to trust in 
 him, and to be contented with mean things. It was 
 
 rours and divisions, and their feared future desolations, if not 
 timely prevented ; occasioned by the increase of Anabaptists, 
 Bigid Separatists, Antinomians, and Familists ; together with 
 some seasonable remedies against the infection of those errours, 
 prescribed in A Letter, sent from Mr. Thomas Shepard, some- 
 time of Immanuel College, in Cambridge, and now Minister of 
 the Gospel in Cambridge, in New England, to a godly friend of 
 his in Burrs, in Suffolk. London, printed by George Miller, 
 1645. 
 
NATHANIEL MORTON; PETER BULKLEY; JOSIAH WINSLOW. 
 
 45 
 
 not accounted a strange thing in those days to drink 
 ■water and to eat samp or hominy without butter 
 or milk. Indeed it would have been a strange thing 
 to see a piece of roast beef, mutton, or veal ; though 
 it was not long before there was roast goat. After 
 the first winter, we were very healthy; though 
 Borne of us had no great store of corn. The Indians 
 did sometimes bring corn, and truck with us for 
 clothing and knives ; and once I had a peck of corn 
 or thereabouts, for a little puppy-dog. Frost fish, 
 muscles, and clams were a relief to many. If our 
 provision be better now than it was then, let us not 
 (and do you, dear children, take heed that you do 
 not) forget the Lord our God. You have better 
 food and raiment than was in former times, but have 
 you better hearts than your forefathers had ? If so, 
 rejoice in that mercy, and let New England then 
 shout for joy. Sure all the people of God in other 
 parts of the world, that shall hear that the children 
 and grandchildren of the first planters of New 
 England have better hearts, and are more heavenly 
 than their predecessors ; they will doubtless greatly 
 rejoice, and will say, This is the generation whom 
 the Lord hath blessed. 
 
 And now, dear children, I know not the time of 
 my death ; my time is in God's hands ; but my age 
 shows me it cannot be far o/f. Therefore while I 
 am in health and strength, I tho't good to put into 
 writing and leave with you, what I have desired in 
 my heart, and oftentimes expressed to you with my 
 tongue. 
 
 NATHANIEL MORTON— PETEE BULKLEY-JOSLAH 
 WINSLOW— EDWARD BULKLEY— SAMUEL STONE- 
 JONATHAN MITCHELL-JOHN SHEEMAN^JOSHUA 
 SCOTTOW. 
 
 Nathaniel Morton was born in the north of 
 England in 1612. His father, George Morton 
 emigrated to Plymouth with his family in 1623 
 and died the following year. Nathaniel was 
 elected Clerk of the Colonial Court in 164-5, and 
 held the office until his death, in 1685. 
 
 The colony records show him to have been a 
 faithful and capable officer, and he is said to have 
 been equally estimable in all the other relations 
 of life. His New England's Memorial ; or, a 
 brief Relation of the most memorable and re- 
 markable Passages of the Providence of God, 
 manifested to the Planters of New England in 
 America; with special reference to the First 
 Colony thereof called New B&ymouth, published 
 for the use and benefit of present and future 
 generations, was published at Cambridge in 
 1669, a second edition in 1721, and three others 
 have since appeared, the last in 1826, with a 
 large body of valuable notes by the Hon. John 
 Davis. The work is arranged in the form of annals, 
 commencing with the departure of the Pilgrims 
 from England, and closing with the date of pub- 
 lication. Apart from Ms honorable position, as 
 the first historian of the country, Secretary Mor- 
 ton possesses some claim-*, from the purity and 
 earnestness of his style, to favorable notice* 
 
 Secretary Morton has preserved much of the 
 contemporary poetry of his time by the insertion 
 of the elegies, written by their fellows on the 
 worthies whose deaths he has occasion to record 
 in the progress of Ms annals — a practice wMch 
 was also followed by Mather. Two of these — 
 
 the Mies on Hooker by Cotton, and part of the 
 tribute to Cotton by Woodbridge — have been 
 already given. We add a few other specimens, 
 with brief accounts of their authors. 
 
 There is an Elegy on Hooker, by Peter Bulk- 
 lev. After twenty-one years' service in the 
 English Church, he was silenced for non-confor- 
 mity, and came to Cambridge, in New England, 
 in 1635. The following year he founded the 
 town of Concord, where he remained until his 
 death, in 1659. He published several sermons, 
 and some brief Latin poems. 
 
 A LAMENTATION FOR TITE DEATH OF THAT PRECIOUS AND WOR- 
 THY MINISTER OF JESUS CHRIST, MR. THOMAS HOOKER, WHO 
 DIED JULY 7, 1647, AS THE SUN WAS SETTING. THE SAME 
 HOUR OF THE DAY DIED BLESSED CALVIN, THAT GLORIOUS 
 LIGHT. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Let Hartford sigh, and say, I've lost a treasure ; 
 
 Let all New England mourn at God's displeasure, 
 
 In taking from us one more gracious 
 
 Than is the gold of Ophir precious. 
 
 Sweet was the savour which his grace did give, 
 
 It season'd all the place where he did live. 
 
 His name did as an ointment give its smell, 
 
 And all bear witness that it aavour'd well. 
 
 Wisdom, love, meekness, friendly courtesy, 
 
 Each moral virtue, with rare piety, 
 
 Pure zeal, yet mixt with mildest clemency, 
 
 Did all conspire in this one breast to lie. 
 
 Deep was his knowledge, judgment was acute, 
 
 His doctrine solid, which none could confute. 
 
 To mind he gave light of intelligence, 
 
 And search'd the corners of the conscience. 
 
 To sinners stout, which no law could bring under, 
 
 To them he was a son of dreadful thunder, 
 
 When all strong oaks of Bashan us'd to quake, 
 
 And fear did Lebanus his cedars shake ; 
 
 The stoutest hearts he filled full of fears, 
 
 He clave the rocks, they melted into tears. 
 
 Yet to sad souls, with sense of siu cast down, 
 
 He was a son of consolation. 
 
 Sweet peace he gave to such as were contrite; 
 
 Their darkness sad he turn'd to joyous light. 
 
 Of preacMug he had learn' d the Tightest art, 
 
 To every one dividing his own part. 
 
 Each ear that heard him said, He spake to me .- 
 
 So piercing was his holy miuistry. 
 
 His life did shine, time's changes stain'd it not, 
 
 Envy itself could not there find a spot. 
 
 Josiah Winslow celebrates Governor Bradford. 
 Winslow was the first Governor born in New 
 England. He was annually chosen in the Ply- 
 mouth colony, from 1678 to 1680. In King 
 Philip's war he was commander of the Plymouth 
 forces, and did good service in the field. He died 
 at Marshfield in 1680. 
 
 BY THE HONOURED MAJOR JOSLAS WTNBLOW, ON MR. WILUAM 
 BRADFORD, AS FOLLOWElTi: 
 
 If we should trace him from the first, we find 
 | He flies his country, leaves his friends behind, 
 i To follow God, and to profess his ways, 
 [ And here encounters hardships many days. 
 
 He is content, with Moses, if God please, 
 Renouncing honour, profit, pleasure, ease, 
 To suffer tossings, and unsettlements, 
 And if their rage doth rise, to banishments. 
 
 He weighs it not, so he may still preserve 
 His conscience clear, and with God's people serve 
 Him freely, 'cording to his mind and will, 
 If not in one place, he'll go forward still. 
 
46 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 If God have work for him in th' ends of th' earth, 
 Safe, danger, hunger, colds, nor any dearth; 
 A howling wilderness, nor savage men, 
 Discourage him, he'll follow God again. 
 
 And how God hath made him an instrument 
 To us of quiet, peace and settlement ; 
 I need not speak ; the eldest, youngest know, 
 God honour'd him with greater work than so. 
 
 To sum up all, in this he still went hence, 
 This man was wholly God's ; his recompense 
 Remains beyond expression, and he ia 
 Gone to possess it in eternal bliss. 
 
 He's happy, happy thrice : unhappy we 
 That still remain more changes here to see: 
 Let's not lament that God hath taken him 
 From troubles hence, in seas of joys to swim. 
 
 The death of Samuel Stone introduces Edward, 
 the son of Peter Bulkley, just mentioned. Ho 
 succeeded his father in his pastoral charge at Con- 
 cord. 
 
 Samuel Stone was born at Hartford, England, 
 educated at Cambridge, and came to Plymouth 
 in the same ship with Cotton and Hooker. He 
 accompanied the latter to Hartford, which was 
 named after his native place, where he acted as 
 his associate for fourteen years, and for sixteen 
 more as his successor. The latter part of his life 
 was embittered by a dispute between himself and 
 the ruling elder on a speculative point of divinity, 
 which led to a division of the church. He printed 
 a sermon and left behind him two works in MS., 
 one of which was a body of divinity, " a rich 
 treasure," says Cotton Mather, which " has often 
 been transcribed by the vast pains of our candi- 
 dates for the ministry." Neither has been 
 printed. 
 
 A TnRENODIA UPON OUR CHURCnES SECOND DARK ECLIP6E, 
 HAPPENING JULY 20, 1663, BY DEATH'S INTERPOSITION BE- 
 TWEEN US AND THAT GREAT LIGHT AND DIVINE PLANT, MR. 
 SAMUEL STONE. 
 
 A stone more than the Ebenezer fam'd ; 
 
 Stone splendent diamond, right orient named ; 
 
 A cordial stone, that often cheered hearts 
 
 With pleasant wit, with Gospel rich imparts ; 
 
 Whetstone, that edgify'd th' obtusest mind ; 
 
 Loadstone, that drew the iron heart unkind ; 
 
 A pond'rous stone, that would the bottom sound 
 
 Of Scripture depths, and bring out Arcan's found ; 
 
 A stone for kingly David's use so fit, 
 
 As would not fail Goliah's front to hit; 
 
 A stone, an antidote, that brake the course 
 
 Of gangrene errour, by convincing force ; 
 
 A stone acute, fit to divide and square ; 
 
 A squared stone became Christ's building rare. 
 
 A Peter's living, lively stone (so rear'd) 
 
 As 'live, was Hartford's life ; dead, death is fear'd. 
 
 In Hartford old, Stone first drew infant breath, 
 
 In New, effus'd his last : there beneath 
 
 His corps are laid, near to his darling brother, 
 
 Of whom dead oft he sigh'd, Not such another. 
 
 Heaven is the more desirable, said he, 
 
 For Hooker, Shepard, and Hat/nes' company. 
 
 E. B. (probably Edward Bulkley). 
 
 These lines, remarkable for their quaint simpli- 
 city, on John Wilson, are attributed to Jonathan 
 Mitchell, a graduate of Harvard of 1 647, and the 
 successor of Shepard at Cambridge in 1650. He 
 died in 1668, at the age of forty-four. 
 
 UPON THE DEATH OP THAT REVEREND, AGED, EVER HONOURED. 
 AND GRACIOUS SERVANT OF CHRIST, MR. JOHN "WILSON. 
 
 Ah ! now there's none who does not know, 
 
 That this day in our Israel, 
 Is fall'n a great and good man too, 
 
 A Prince, I might have said as well : 
 A man of princely power with God, 
 
 For faith and love of princely spirit ; 
 Our Israel's chariots, horsemen good, 
 
 By faith and prayer, though not by merit, 
 Renown'd for practick piety 
 
 In Englands both, from youth to age; 
 In Cambridge, Inns-Court, Sudbury, 
 
 And each place of his pilgrimage. 
 As humble as a little child, 
 
 When yet in real worth high-grown: 
 Himself a nothing still he stil'd, 
 
 When God so much had for him done. 
 In love, a none-such ; as the sand, 
 
 With largest heart God did him fill, 
 A bounteous mind, an open hand, 
 
 Affection sweet, all sweet'ning still. 
 Love was his life; he dy'd in love; 
 
 Love doth embalm his memory ; 
 Love is his bliss and joy, above 
 
 With God now who is love for ay : 
 A comprehending charity 
 
 To all, where ought appear'd of good ; 
 And yet in zeal was none more high 
 
 Against th' apparent serpent's brood. 
 ******* 
 Gaius, our host, ah now is gone ! 
 
 Can we e'er look for such another ? 
 But yet there is a mansion, 
 
 Where we may all turn in together. 
 No moving inn, but resting place, 
 
 Where his blest soul is gathered ; 
 Where good men going are a pace 
 
 Into the bosom of their Head. 
 Ay, thither let us haste away, 
 
 Sure heaven will the sweeter be, 
 (If there we ever come to stay) 
 
 For him, and others such as he. 
 
 Mitchell, in his turn, is soon commemorated by 
 John Sherman, a non-conformist emigrant from 
 England, who officiated at Watertown and New 
 Haven as a clergyman, and took an active part as 
 civil magistrate. He was a mathematician, and 
 published for many years an Almanac, well gar- 
 nished with moral reflections. He was married 
 twice, and was the father of twenty-six children. 
 He died at the age of sixty-two, in 1675. 
 
 AN EPITAPH UPON TnE DEPLORED DEATH OF THAT SUPEEEMI- 
 NENT MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL, MR. JONATHAN MITCHELL. 
 
 Here lies the darling of his time, 
 
 Mitchell expired in his prime ; 
 
 Who four years short of forty-seven, 
 
 Was found full ripe and pluck'd for heaven. 
 
 Was full of prudent zeal and love, 
 
 Faith, patience, wisdom from above ; 
 
 New-England's stay, next age's story ; 
 
 The churches gem; the college glorj\ 
 
 Angels may speak him ; ah ! not I, 
 
 (Whose worth s above Hyperbole) 
 
 But for our loss, wer't in my power, 
 
 I'd weep an everlasting shower. J. S.* 
 
 J. S. has also been supposed to refer to Joshua 
 Scottow, a merchant of Boston. The only 
 
 * Guided bv those initials only, we are inclined to attribute 
 the lines to which they are annexed, to the liev. John Sherman, 
 (Davis's note.) 
 
ANNE BRADSTREET. 
 
 47 
 
 dates known in reference to his life, are those of 
 his admission to church membership in the Old 
 Church, Boston, on " the nineteenth of the third 
 month," 1639, with his brother Thomas, as the 
 " sonnes of our sister Thomasine Scottowe," the 
 record of the birth of seven of his children, the 
 eldest of whom was born, September 30, 1646; 
 the date of his will, June 23, 16y6 ; and of its 
 probate, March 3, 1698. His name is, however, 
 of frequent recurrence in the town records, and 
 he appears to have maintained throughout his 
 long life an honorable position. 
 
 He was the author of Old Men's fears for 
 their own declensions, mixed with fears of their 
 and posterities further falling off from New 
 England's Primitive Constitution. Published 
 by some of Boston's old Planters, and some other. 
 1691. pp. 26. It contains a vigorously written 
 presentation of what the writer regarded as the 
 degeneracy of his times. 
 
 HEW ENGLAND'S DECLINE. 
 
 Our spot is not the spot of God's children ; the 
 old Puritan garb, and gravity of heart, and habit 
 lost and ridiculed into strange and fantastic fashions 
 and attire, naked backs and bare breasts, and fore- 
 head, if not of the whorish woman, yet so like unto 
 it, as would require a more than ordinary spirit of 
 discernment to distinguish ; the virgins dress and 
 matrons veil, showing their power on their heads, 
 because of the holy angels, turned into powdered 
 foretops and top-gallant attire, not becoming the 
 Christian, but the comedian assembly, not the 
 church, but the stage play, where the devil sits 
 regent in his dominion, as he once boasted out of 
 the mouth of a demoniack, church member, he there 
 took possession of, and made this response to the 
 church, supplicating her deliverance ; so as now we 
 may and must say, New England is not to be found 
 in New England, nor Boston in Boston ; it is become 
 a lost town (as at first it was called) ; we must now cry 
 out, our leanness, our leanness, our apostacy, our 
 apostacy, our Atheism, spiritual idolatry, adultery, 
 formality in worship, carnal and vain confidence 
 in church privileges, forgetting of God our rock, 
 and multitude of other abominations. 
 
 Thh tract was reprinted, with the omission of 
 the address to the reader, by D. Gookin, in 1749. 
 In 1694, A Narrative of the Planting of the 
 Massachusetts Colony, Anno 1628, with the Lord's 
 signal presence the first Thirty years. Also a 
 caution from New England's Apostle, the great 
 Cotton, how to escape the calamity, which might 
 befal them or their posterity, and confirmed by 
 the evangelist Norton, with prognostics from the 
 famous Dr. Owen, concerning the fate of these 
 Churches, and Animadversions upon the anger of 
 Cod in sending of evil angels among us. Pub- 
 lished by Old Planters, the authors of the Old 
 Men's Fears, a pamphlet of seventy-eight pages, 
 appeared, much in the style of the author's former 
 productions* 
 
 ANNE BEADSTEEET. 
 
 It is with a fine flourish of his learned trump of 
 fame that Cotton Mather, in his Magnalia, intro- 
 duces Anne Bradstreet, who wrote the first vo- 
 lume of poems published in New England. "If 
 
 * Memoirs of Scottow, Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Second Series, 
 iv. 10. 
 
 the rare learning of a daughter was not the least 
 of those bright things which adorned no less a 
 
 Judge of England than Sir Thomas More ; it must 
 now be said, that a Judge of New England, name- 
 ly, Thomas Dudley, Esq., had a daughter (besides 
 other children) to be a crown unto him. Reader, 
 America justly admires the learned women of the 
 other hemisphere. She has heard of those that 
 were witnesses to the old professors of all philo- 
 sophy : she hath heard of Hippatia, who formerly 
 taught the liberal arts; and of Sarocchia, who, 
 more lately, was very often the moderatris in the 
 disputations of the learned men of Rome : she 
 has been told of the three Corinnas, which equal- 
 led, if not excelled, the most celebrated poets of 
 their time : she has been told of the Empress Eu- 
 docia, who composed poetical paraphrases on va- 
 rious parts of the Bible ; and of Rosnida, who 
 wrote the lives of holy men ; and of Paraphilia, 
 who wrote other histories unto the life : the writ- 
 ings of the most renowned Anna Maria Schur- 
 man, have come over unto her. But she now 
 prays that into such catalogues of authoresses as 
 Beverovicius, Hottinger, and Voetius, have given 
 unto the world, there may be a room now given 
 unto Madam Ann Bradstreet, the daughter of our 
 Governor Dudley, and the consort of our Governor 
 Bradstreet, whose poems, divers times printed, 
 have afforded a grateful entertainment unto the 
 ingenious, and a monument for her memory be- 
 yond the stateliest marbles." 
 
 Thomas Dudley, the father of this gifted lady, 
 had been a soldier of the Protestant wars of Eli- 
 zabeth in the Low Countries, and afterwards re- 
 trieved the fortunes of the Earl of Lincoln by his 
 faithful stewardship of his estates. He came 
 over to Massachusetts with a party of Puritan re- 
 fugees, among whom was his son-in-law, Simon 
 Bradstreet, from the Earl's count} - , in 1630; and 
 four years afterwards, succeeded Winthrop as Go- 
 vernor of the Colony. In addition to his various 
 valorous and religious qualities, he would appear 
 from an Epitaph, of which Mather gives us a 
 poetical translation, to have been something of a 
 book-worm. 
 
 In books a prodigal, they say ; 
 A living cyclopaedia ; 
 Of histories of church and priest, 
 A full compendium, at least; 
 A table-talker, rich in sense, 
 And witty without wit's pretence. 
 
 So that the daughter may have inherited some 
 of her learning. Morton, in his " Memorial," has 
 preserved these lines by Dudley, found in his 
 pocket after his death, which exhibit the severity 
 of his creed and practice. 
 
 Dim eyes, denf ears, cold stomach shew 
 My dissolution is in view ; 
 Eleven times seven near lived have I, 
 And now God calls, I willing die: 
 My shuttle's shot, my race is run, 
 My sun is set, my deed is done ; 
 Mj r span is measured, tale is told, 
 My flower is faded and grown old, 
 My dream is vanished, shadow's fled, 
 
4S 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 My soul with Christ, my body dead ; 
 Farewell dear wife, children, and friends, 
 Hate heresy, make blessed ends ; 
 Bear poverty, live with good men, 
 So shall we meet with joy again. 
 
 Let men of God in courts and churches watch, 
 
 O'er such as do a toleration hatch ; 
 
 Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice, 
 
 To poison all with heresy and vice. 
 
 If men be left, and otherwise combine, 
 
 My epitaph's, / dy'd no libertine. 
 
 The cares of married life would not appear to 
 have interrupted Mistress Bradstreet's acquisi- 
 tions, for she was married at the age of sixteen, 
 and her poetry was written in the early part of 
 her life. As she had eight children, and ad- 
 dressed herself particularly to their education,* 
 the cradle and tie Muse must have been competi- 
 tors for her attention. Her reading, well stuffed 
 with the facts of ancient history, was no trifle for 
 the memory ; but we may suppose the mind to 
 have been readily fixed on books, and even pe- 
 dantic learning to have been a relief, where there 
 were no diversions to distract when the household 
 labors of the day were over. Then there is the 
 native passion for books, which will find its own 
 opportunities. The little volume of her poems, 
 published in London, in 1 650, is entitled The Tenth 
 Muse, lately sprung up in America ; or, Several 
 Poems, compiled with great variety of wit and 
 learning, full of delight: wherein especially is 
 contained a complete Discourse and, Description 
 of the Four Elements, Constitutions, Ages of 
 Man, Seasons of the Year. Together with an 
 Exact Epitome of the Four Monarchies, viz., the 
 Assyrian, Persian, Grecian, Roman. Also a Dia- 
 logue between Old England and New concerning 
 the late troubles, with divers other pleasant and 
 serious Poems. By a Gentlewoman in those parts. 
 A more complete edition was published in Boston 
 in 16T8, which contains her Contemplations, a 
 moral and descriptive poem, the best specimen of 
 her pen; The Flesh and the Spirit, a dialogue, 
 and several poems on family incidents, left among 
 her private papers. 
 
 The formal natural history and historical topics, 
 which compose the greater part of her writings, 
 are treated with doughty resolution, but without 
 much regard to poetical equality. The plan is 
 simple. The elements of the world, fire, air, 
 earth, and water ; the humors of the constitution, 
 the choleric, the sanguine, the melancholy, and 
 phlegmatic ; childhood, youth, manhood, and age ; 
 spring, summer, autumn, and winter, severally 
 come up and say what they can of themselves, of 
 their powers and opportunities, good and evil, 
 with the utmost fairness. The four ancient mo- 
 narchies are catalogued in a similar way. It is 
 not to be denied, that, if there is not much poetry 
 in these productions, there is considerable infor- 
 mation. For the readers of those time3 they con- 
 
 * She records the number in the posthumous lines In Refer- 
 ence to her Children. 23d June, 1656 : 
 
 I bad eight birds hatch't in the nest ; 
 
 Four cocks there were, and hens the rest; 
 
 I nurst them up with pain and care, 
 
 For cost nor labor did I spare. 
 
 Till at the last they felt their wing, 
 
 Mounted the trees, and learned to sing. 
 There are two pages more in continuation of this simile. 
 
 tained a very respectable digest of the old histo- 
 rians, and a fair proportion of medical and scien- 
 tific knowledge. It is amusing to see this mother 
 in Israel writing of the Spleen with the zest of an 
 anatomist. 
 
 If any doubt this truth, whence this should come, 
 Show them the passage to the duodenum. 
 
 The good lady must have enjoyed the perusal 
 of Phineas Fletcher's Purple Island, a dissecting 
 theatre in a book, which appeared in 1683. Her 
 descriptions are extremely literal. She writes as if 
 under bonds to tell the whole truth, which she does 
 without any regard to the niceties or scruples of 
 the imagination. Thus her account of childhood 
 begins at the beginning somewhat earlier than a 
 modern poetess would tax the memory of the 
 muse ; and she thinks it necessary to tell us in her 
 account of winter, how, 
 
 Beef, brawn and pork, are now in great'st request, 
 And solid'st meats our stomachs can digest 
 
 When we come upon any level ground in these 
 poems, and are looking round to enjoy the pros- 
 pect, we may prepare ourselves for a neighboring 
 pitfall. In " Summer" we set forth trippingly 
 afield — ■ 
 
 Now go those frolic swains, the shepherd lad, 
 
 To wash their thiek-cloth'd flocks, with pipes full 
 
 In the cool streams they labor with delight, 
 Rubbing their dirty coats, till they look white. 
 
 With a little more taste our poetess might have 
 been a happy describer of nature, for she had a 
 warm heart and a hearty view of things. The 
 honesty of purpose which mitigates her pedantry, 
 sometimes displays itself in a purer simplicity. 
 The account of the flowers and the little bird in 
 Spring might find a place in the sincere, delicate 
 poems of Dana, who has a family relationship 
 with the poetess. 
 
 The primrose pale, and azure violet, 
 Among the verdurous grass hath nature set, 
 That when the sun (on's love) the earth doth shine, 
 These might, as love, set out her garments fine ; 
 The fearful bird his little house now builds, 
 In trees, and walls, in cities, and in fields; 
 The outside strong, the inside warm and neat, 
 A natural artificer complete. 
 
 In the historic poems, the dry list of dynasties 
 is sometimes relieved by a homely unction and 
 humor in the narrative, as in the picture of the 
 progress of Alexander and the Persian, host of 
 Darius — though much of this stuff is sheer dog- 
 greL as in the Life and Death of Semiramis : 
 
 She like a brave virago play*d the rex, 
 And was both shame and glory of her sex. 
 ******* 
 
 Forty-two years she reign'd, and then she dy'd. 
 But by what means, we are not certified. 
 
 If sighs for " imbecility" can get pardon for bad 
 verses, we should think only of Mrs. Bradstreet's 
 good ones — for her poems are full of these depre- 
 catory acknowledgments. 
 
 The literary father of Mrs. Bradstreet was 
 Silver-tongued Sylvester, whose translation of Du 
 Bartas was a popular book among Puritan readers 
 
ANNE BRADSTREET. 
 
 49 
 
 at the beginning of the seventeenth century. 
 His quaint volumes, which will be remembered 
 as favorites with Southey's simple-minded Dr. 
 Daniel Dove, were both poetical and devout ; and 
 if they led our author's taste astray, they also 
 strengthened her finest susceptibilities. She has 
 left a warm poem " in his honor," in which there 
 is an original and very pretty simile. 
 
 My Muse unto a child, I fitly may compare, 
 Who sees the riches of some famous fair ; 
 He feeds his eyes, but understanding lacks, 
 To comprehend the worth of all those knacks ; 
 The glittering plate, and jewels, he admires, 
 The hats and fans, and flowers, and ladies' tires ; 
 And thousand times his 'mazed mind doth wish 
 Some part, at least, of that brave wealth was his ; 
 But seeing empty wishes nought obtain, 
 At night turns to his mother's cot again. 
 And tells her tales (his full heart over glad) 
 Of all the glorious sights his eyes have had : 
 But finds too soon his want of eloquence, 
 The silly prattler speaks no word of sense ; 
 And seeing utterance fail his great desires, 
 Sits down in silence. 
 
 Nathaniel Ward, the author of the Simple 
 Cobbler of Agawam, in some comic fetches pre- 
 fixed to the poems, says : — 
 
 The Authoresse was a right Du Bartas girle. 
 
 Mrs. Bradstreet was also a reader of Sir Philip 
 Sidney's Arcadia, which she has characterized 
 with more minuteness than others who have 
 written upon it, in an Elegy which she penned 
 forty-eight years after the fall of that mirror of 
 knighthood at Zutphen. 
 
 Ann Bradstreet died lGth September, 1072, at 
 the age of sixty. That she had not altogether 
 survived her poetical reputation In England, is 
 shown by an entry in Edward Phillips's (the 
 nephew of Milton) TJicatrum Poctarvm, in 1674, 
 where the title of her Poems is given, and their 
 memory pronounced "•not j'et wholly extinct." 
 A third edition, reprinted from the second, ap- 
 peared in 1758. 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 Some time now past in the Autumnal Tide, 
 
 When Phcebus wanted but one hour to bed, 
 The trees all richly chid, yet void of pride, 
 Were gilded o'er by his rich golden head. 
 Their leaves and fruits scem'd painted, but was true 
 Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hew, 
 Wrapt were my senses at this delectable view. 
 
 I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, 
 
 If so much excellence abide below ; 
 How excellent is He, that dwells on high! 
 
 Whose power and beauty by his works we know. 
 Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light, 
 That hath this under world so richly dight: 
 More heaven than earth was here, no winter and no 
 night. 
 
 Then on a stately oak I cast mine eye, 
 
 Whose ruffling top the clouds seem'd to aspire; 
 
 [low long since thou wast in thine infancy? 
 Thy strength, and stature, more thy years admire. 
 
 Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born? 
 
 Or thousands since thou brak'st thy shell of horn. 
 
 If so, all these as nought, eternity doth scorn. 
 VOL. I.— 4 
 
 Then higher on the glittering sun I gaz'd, 
 
 Whose beams were shaded by the leavie trae, 
 
 The more I look'd, the more I grew amaz'd, 
 And softly said, what glory's like to thee ? 
 
 Soul of this world, this Universe's eye, 
 
 No wonder, some made thee a deity ; 
 
 Had I not better kaowa (alas), the same had I. 
 
 Thou as a bridegroom from thy chamber rushest, 
 
 And as a strong man, joyes to run a race, 
 The morn doth usher thee, with smiles and blushes. 
 
 The earth reflects her glances in thy face. 
 Birds, insects, animals with vegetive, 
 Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive : 
 And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive. 
 
 Thy swift annual, and diurnal course, 
 
 Thy daily straight, and yearly oblique path, 
 Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching force, 
 
 All mortals here the feeling knowledge hath. 
 Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night, 
 Quaternal seasons caused by thy might: 
 Hail creature, full of sweetness, beauty and delight. 
 
 Art thou so full of glory, that no eye 
 
 Hath strength, thy shining rayes once to bsholc. 
 And is thy splendid throne erect so high < 
 
 As to approach it, can no earthly mould. 
 How full of glory thea must thy Creator be, 
 Who gave this bright light luster unto thee! 
 Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty. 
 
 Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard. 
 In pathful paths I lead my wandering feet, 
 
 My humble eyes to lofty skyes I rear'd 
 
 To sing some song, my mazed Muse thought meet. 
 
 My great Creator I would magnifie, 
 
 That nature had thus decked liberally : 
 
 But Ah, and Ah, agaiu my imbecility ! i 
 
 I heard the merry grasshopper then sing, 
 The black clad cricket, bear a seco:id part, 
 
 They kept one tune, and plaid oa the same string, 
 Seeming to glory in their little art. 
 
 Shall creatures abject, thus their voices raise? 
 
 And in their kind resound their maker's praise : 
 
 Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layei. 
 
 When present times look back to ages past, 
 
 And men in being fancy those are deid, 
 It makes things gone perpetually to last, 
 
 And calls back months and years that long since 
 fled. 
 It makes a man more aged ia conceit, 
 Than was Methuselah, or's grand-sire great ; 
 While of their persons and their acts his mind doth 
 treat. 
 
 Sometimes in Eden fair he seems to be, 
 
 Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all, 
 
 Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree, 
 That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral. 
 
 Who like a miscreant's driven from that place. 
 
 To get his bread with pain, and sweat of face: 
 
 A penalty impos'd on his backsliding race. 
 
 Here sits our Grandame in retired place, 
 
 And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born, 
 The weeping imp oft looks her in the face, 
 
 Bewails his unknown hap, and fate forlorn ; 
 His mother sighs, to think of Paradise, 
 And how she lost her bliss, to be more wise, 
 Believing him that was, and is, Father of lyes. 
 
 | Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice. 
 
 Fruits of the earth, and failings each do bring; 
 
 : On Abel's gift the fire descends from skies, 
 But no such sign on false Cain's offering ; 
 
50 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 "With sullen hnteful looks he goes his wayes. 
 Hath thousand thoughts to end his brother's dayes, 
 Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to 
 raise. 
 
 There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks, 
 His brother comes, then acts his fratricide, 
 The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks, 
 
 But since that time she often hath been cloy'd; 
 The wretch with ghastly face and dreadful mind, 
 Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind, 
 Though none on Earth but kindred near then could 
 he find. 
 
 Who fancyes not his looks now at the bar, 
 
 His face like death, his heart with horror fraught, 
 
 Nfor male-factor ever felt like war, 
 
 When deep despair, with wish of life hath fought, 
 
 Branded with guilt, and crusht with -treble woes, 
 
 A vagabond to Land of Nod he goes, 
 
 A city builds, that walls might him secure from 
 foes. 
 
 Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages, 
 
 Their long descent, how nephew's sons they saw, 
 
 The starry observations of those Sages, 
 
 And how their precepts to their Bons were law. 
 
 How Adam sigh'd to see his progeny, 
 
 Clothed all in his black sinfull livery, 
 
 Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could 
 
 Our Life compare we with their length of dayes, 
 
 Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive ? 
 And though thus short, we shorten many ways, 
 
 Living so little while we are alive ; 
 In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight, 
 So unawares comes on perpetual night, 
 And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight. 
 
 When I behold the heavens as in their prime, 
 
 And then the earth (though old) still clad in 
 green, 
 The stones and trees, insensible of time, 
 
 Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen ; 
 If winter come, and greenness then do fade, 
 A Spring returns, and they more 3"outhful made ; 
 But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once 
 he's laid. 
 
 By birth more noble than those creatures all, 
 
 Yet seems by nature and by custome cursed, 
 No sooner born, but grief and care make fall 
 
 That state obliterate he had at first 
 Nor youth nor strength, nor wisdom spring again, 
 Nor habitations long their names retain, 
 But in oblivion to the final day remain. 
 
 Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees, the earth, 
 Because their beauty and their strength last 
 longer? 
 
 Shall I wish their, or never to had birth, 
 
 Because they're bigger, and their bodyes stronger? 
 
 Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and dye, 
 
 And when unmade, so ever shall they lye,. 
 
 But man was made for endless immortality. 
 
 Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm 
 
 Close sate I by a goodly River's side, 
 Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm ; 
 
 A lonely place, with pleasures dignified. 
 I once that lov'd the shady woods so well, 
 Now thought the rivers did the trees excell, 
 And if the sun would ever shine, there would I 
 dwell. 
 
 While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye, 
 Which to the long'd-for Ocean held its course, 
 
 I markt nor crooks, nor rubs that there did lye 
 Could hinder aught, but still augment its force: 
 
 happy Flood, quoth I, that hold'st thy race 
 Till thou arrive at thy beloved place, 
 
 Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace. 
 
 Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st slide, 
 But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet, 
 
 So hand in hand along with thee they glide 
 To Thetis' house^ where all embrace and greet: 
 
 Thou Emblem true, of what I count the best, 
 
 Oh could I lead my Rivulets to rest, 
 
 So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest. 
 
 Ye Fish which in this liquid region 'bide, 
 
 That for each season, have your habitation, 
 Now salt, now fresh, where you think best to glide, 
 
 To unknown coasts to give a visitation, 
 In lakes and ponds, you leave 3'our numerous fry, 
 So nature taught, and yet you know not why, 
 You watry folk that know not your felicity. 
 
 Look how the wantons frisk to taste the air, 
 
 Then to> the colder bottom straight they dive, 
 Eftsoon to Neptune's glassie Hall repair 
 
 To see what trade the great ones there do drive, 
 Who forage o'er the spacious sea-green field, 
 And take the trembling prey before it yield, 
 Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins 
 their shield. 
 
 While musing thus with contemplation fed, 
 And thousand fancyes buzzing in my brain, 
 
 The sweet tongued Philomel percht o'er my head, 
 And chanted forth a most melodious strain 
 
 Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, 
 
 1 judg'd my hearing better than my sight, 
 
 And wisht me wings with her a while to take my 
 flight. 
 
 merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares, 
 
 That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn, , 
 Feels no sad thoughts, nor eruciating cares 
 
 To gain more good, or shun what might thoe 
 harm ; 
 Thy cloaths ne'er wear, thy meat is every where, 
 Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear, 
 Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come do3t 
 fear. 
 
 The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, 
 Sets hundred notes unto thy feather'd crew, 
 
 So each one tunes his pretty instrument, 
 And warbling out the old, begins anew, 
 
 And thus they pass their youth in summer season, 
 
 Then follow thee into a better region, 
 
 Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion. 
 
 Man's at the best a creature frail and vain, 
 
 In knowledge ignorant, in strength but weak: 
 Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain, 
 
 Each storm his state, his mind, his body break: 
 From some of these he never finds cessation, 
 But day or night, within, without, vexation, 
 Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest, 
 near'st relation. 
 
 And yet this sinful creature, frail and vain, 
 
 This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow, 
 This weather-beaten vessel wreckt with pain, 
 
 Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow : 
 Nor all his losses, crosses and vexation, 
 In weight, in frequency and long duration 
 Can make him deeply groan for that divine Transla 
 tioix 
 
 The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide, 
 Sings merrily, and steers his barque with ease, 
 
 As if he had command of wind and tide, 
 And now become great Master of the seas ; 
 
ANNE BRADSTREET. 
 
 51 
 
 But suddenly a storm spoils all the sport, 
 And makes him long for a more quiet port, 
 Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort. 
 
 So he that saileth in this world of pleasure, 
 Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th' sowre, 
 
 That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure, 
 Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'n's 
 bower. 
 
 But sad affliction comes and makes him see 
 
 Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety ; 
 
 Only above is found all with security. 
 
 Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, 
 That draws oblivion's curtains over kings, 
 
 Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, 
 
 Their names without a Record are forgot, 
 Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th' 
 
 dust, 
 Nor wit, nor gold, nor buildings 'scape time's rust ; 
 But he whose name is graved in the white stone 
 Shall last and shine when all of these are gone. 
 
 OLD AGE RECOUNTS TJIE niSTORT OF TIIE PURITAN PEEIOD 
 — FROM THE FOUR AGES OF MAN. 
 
 "What you have been, ev'n such have I before, 
 And all you say, say I, and something more; 
 Babe's innocence, Youth's wildness I have seen, 
 And in perplexed middle-age have bin ; 
 Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past, 
 And on this Stage have come to act my last : 
 
 1 have bin young, and strong, and wise as you, 
 But now, Bis pueri series, is too true ; 
 
 In every Age I've found much varietie, 
 
 An end of all perfection now I see. 
 
 It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold, 
 
 My ruin'd house, now falling can uphold ; 
 
 It's not my Learning, Rhetoric, wit so large, 
 
 Now hath the power, Dentil's Warfare to discharge ; 
 
 It's not my goodly house, nor bed of down, 
 
 That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown ; 
 
 Nor from alliance now can I have hope, 
 
 But what I have done well, that is my prop ; 
 
 He" that in youth is godly, wise, and sage, 
 
 Provides a staff for to support his age ; 
 
 Great mutations, some joyful, and some sad, 
 
 In this short Pilgrimage I oft have had ; 
 
 Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil'd on me, 
 
 Sometimes again, rain'd all adversity; 
 
 Sometimes in honour, and sometimes in disgrace, 
 
 Sometimes an abject, then again in place. 
 
 Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen, 
 
 In various times of state I've also been. 
 
 I've seen a kingdom flourish like a tree, 
 
 When it was rul'd by that celestial she ; 
 
 And like a cedar, others to surmount, 
 
 That but for shrubs they did themselves account ; 
 
 Then saw I France, and Holland saved, Cales won, 
 
 And Philip, and Albertus, half undone ; 
 
 I saw all peace at home, terror to foes, 
 
 But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close ; 
 
 And then, methought, the world at noon grew dark, 
 
 When it had lost that radiant sun-like spark, 
 
 In midst of griefs, I saw some hopes revive 
 
 (For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive), 
 
 I saw hopes dasht, our forwardness was shent, 
 
 And silene'd we, by Act of Parliament. 
 
 I've seen from Rome, an execrable thing, 
 
 A plot to blow up Nobles, and their King ; 
 
 I've seen designs at Ru, and Cades crost, 
 
 And poor Palatinate for ever lost ; 
 
 I've seen a Prince, to live on others' lands, 
 
 A Royal one, by alms from subjects' hands, 
 
 I've seen base men, advane'd to great degree, 
 
 And worthy ones, put to extremity : 
 
 But not their Prince's love, nor state so high ; 
 Could once reverse their shameful destiny. 
 I've seen one stabb'd, another lose his head ; 
 And others fly their Country, through their dread. 
 I've seen and so have ye, for 'tis but late, 
 The desolation of a goodly State, 
 Plotted and acted, so that none can tell, 
 Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell. 
 I've seen a land unmoulded with great pain, 
 But yet may live to see't made up again : 
 I've seen it shaken, rent, and soak'd in blood, 
 But out of troubles, ye may see much good. 
 These are no old wives' tales, but this is truth ; 
 We old men love to tell what's done in youth. 
 
 ALEXANDER MEETS DARIUS — FROM THE FOUR MONARCHIES OP 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 And on he goes Darius for to meet; 
 Who came with thousand thousands at his feet, 
 Though some there be, and that more likely, write, 
 He but four hundred thousand had to fight, 
 The rest attendants, which made up no less; 
 (Both sexes there) was almost numberless. 
 For this wise King had brought to see the sport ; 
 Along with him, the Ladies of the Court. 
 His mother old, beauteous wife, and daughters, 
 It seems to see the Macedonian's slaughters. 
 Sure it's beyond my time, and little art, 
 To shew, how great Darius play'd his part; 
 The splendor, and the pomp, he marched in, 
 For since the world, was no such pageant seen. 
 Oh, 'twas a goodly sight, there to behold 
 The Persians clad in silk, and glitt'ring gold ; 
 The stately Horses trapt, the launces gilt, 
 As if they were now all to run at tilt: 
 The Holy fire, was borne before the Host 
 (For Sun and Fire the Persians worship most); 
 The Priests in their strange habit follow after ; 
 An object not so much of fear, as laughter. 
 The King sat in a chariot made of gold, 
 With Robes and Crown, most glorious to behold. 
 And o'er his head, his golden gods on high, 
 Support a parti-coloured canopy. 
 A number of spare horses next were led, 
 Lest he should need them, in his chariot's stead. 
 But they that saw him in this state to lye, 
 Would think he neither thought to fight nor fly, 
 He fifteen hundred had like women drest, 
 For so to fright the Greeks he judg'd was best. 
 Their golden Ornaments so to set forth, 
 Would ask more time, than were their bodies worth. 
 Great Sisigambis, she brought up the Rear; 
 Then such a world of Wagons did appear, 
 Like several houses moving upon wheels: 
 As if she'd drown, whole Sushan at her heels. 
 This brave Virago, to the King was mother; 
 And as much good she did, as any other. 
 Now lest this Gold, and all this goodly stuff, 
 Had not been spoil, and booty rich enough, 
 A thousand Mules, and Camels ready wait, 
 Loaden with gold, with jewels and with plate, 
 For sure Darius thought, at the first sight, 
 The Greeks would all adore, and would none fight. 
 I But when both armies met, he might behold, 
 I That valour was more worth than pearls, or gold. 
 And how his wealth serv'd but for baits failure, 
 Which made his over-throw more fierce ami sure. 
 i The Greeks come on, and witli a gallant grace, 
 Let fly their arrows in the Persian's face; 
 The Cowards feeling this sharp stinging charge, 
 Most basely run, ami left their King at large, 
 Who from his golden coach is glad t'alight, 
 And cast away his crown, for swifter flight; 
 Of late, like some immoveable he lay. 
 Now finds both legs, and horse, to run away ; 
 
52 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Two hundred thousand men that day were slain, 
 And forty thousand prisoners also tane ; 
 Besides, the Queens, and Ladies of the Court, 
 If Curtius be true, in his report. 
 
 THE FLESH AN3> THE SPIRIT. 
 
 In secret place where once I stood 
 Close by the banks of Saerirn flood, 
 I heard two sisters reason on 
 Things that are past and things to come. 
 One Flesh was called, who had her eye 
 On worldly wealth and vanity ; 
 The other spirit, who did rear 
 Her thoughts into a higher sphere: 
 Sister, quoth Flesh, what liv'st thou on, 
 Nothing but meditation ? 
 Doth contemplation feed thee so 
 Regardlessly to let earth go? 
 Can speculation satisfy, 
 Nation without reality ? 
 Dost dream of things beyond the moon 
 And dost thou hope to dwell there soon? 
 Hast treasures there laid up in store, 
 That all in th' world thou couut'st but poor J 
 Art fancy sick or turn'd a sot 
 To catch at shadows which are not ? 
 Come, come, I'll show unto thy sense, 
 Industry hath its recompense. 
 "What canst desire, but thou mayst see 
 The substance in variety ? 
 Dost honor like? acquire the same, 
 As some, to their immortal fame : 
 And trophies to thy name erect, 
 Which "wearing time shall ne'er deject. 
 For riches dost thou long full sore ? 
 Behold enough of precious store ; 
 Earth hath more silver, pearls, and gold. 
 Than eyes can see or hands can hold. 
 Affect'st thou pleasure? take thy fill. 
 Earth hath enough of what you will. 
 Then let not go what thou may'st find 
 For things unknown, only in mind. 
 jSpvBe still, thou unregen'rate p:irt, 
 Disturb no more my settled heart, 
 For I have vow'd (and so will do) 
 Thee as a foe still to pursue ; 
 And combat thee with will, and must 
 Until I see thee laid in th' dust. 
 Sisters we are, yea, twins we be, 
 Tet deadly feud 'twixt thee and me ; 
 For from one father are we not, 
 Thou by old Adam wast begot ; 
 But my arise is from above, 
 Whence my dear father I do love. 
 Thou speak'st me fair, but hat'st me sore, 
 Thy flatt'ring shows I'll trust no more. 
 How oft thy slave hast thou me made. 
 When I believ'd what thou bast said, 
 And never had more cause of woe 
 Than when I did what thou bad'st do. 
 ITl stop my cars at these thy charms, 
 And count them for my deadly harms. 
 Thy sinful pleasures I do hate, 
 Thy riches are to me no bate, 
 Thy honors do nor will I love, 
 For my ambition lies above. 
 My greatest honour it shall be, 
 When I am victor over thee, 
 And triumph shall, with laurel head. 
 When thou my captive shalt be led : 
 How I do live thou need'st not scoff. 
 For I have meat thou know'st not of; 
 The hidden manna I do eat, 
 The word of life.it is my meat. 
 My thoughts' do yield me more content 
 
 Than can thy hours in pleasure spent. 
 
 Nor are they shadows which I catch, 
 
 Nor fancies vain at which I snatch ; 
 
 But reach at things that are so high 
 
 Beyond thy dull capacity ; 
 
 Eternal substance I do see, 
 
 With which enriched I would be ; 
 
 Mine eye doth pierce the heavens, and see 
 
 What is invisible to thee. 
 
 My garments are not silk nor gold, 
 
 Nor such-like trash which earth doth hold, 
 
 But royal robes I shall have on, 
 
 More glorious than the glist'ning sun ; 
 
 My crown not diamonds, pearls, and gold, 
 
 But such as angels' heads infold. 
 
 The city where I hope to dwell, 
 
 There's none on earth can parallel ; 
 
 The stately walls, both high and strong, 
 
 Are made of precious jasper stone; 
 
 The gates of pearl, both rich and clear, 
 
 And angels are for porters there ; 
 
 The streets thereof transparent gold, 
 
 Such as no eye did e'er behold ; 
 
 A christal river there doth run, 
 
 Which doth proceed from the Lamb's throne: 
 
 Of life there are the waters sure, 
 
 Which shall remain for ever pure ; 
 
 Nor sun, nor moon, they have no need, 
 
 For glory doth from God proceed: 
 
 No candle there, nor yet torch light, 
 
 For there shall be no darksome night. 
 
 From sickness and infirmity, 
 
 For evermore there shall be free, 
 
 Nor withering age shall e'er come there, 
 
 But beauty shall be bright and clear; 
 
 This city pure is not for thee, 
 
 For things unclean there shall not be; 
 
 If I of heaven may have my fill 
 
 Take thou the world, and all that "will. 
 
 PETEE FOLGEE. 
 
 Peter Folger, the maternal grandfather of Ben- 
 jamin Franklin, and only child of John Folger, 
 came to America with his father from Norwich, ' 
 England, in 1635, at the age of eighteen. They 
 settled soon after their arrival at Martha's Vine- 
 yard, where John died in 1660, leaving a widow, 
 Meribell, who was living in 1663. 
 
 Peter married, in 1644, Mary Morrell, an inmate 
 in the family of the celebrated Hugli Peters, who 
 is said to have been a fellow-passenger of the 
 Folgers in their voyage to America. In 1663 he 
 removed to Nantucket, and was among the first 
 settlers of that island. He was one of five com- 
 missioners to lay out land, a task for which he 
 was well qualified by his knowledge of surveying; 
 and the words of the ordef prove the estimation 
 in which he was held in the community, it being 
 therein stated, that " whatsoever shall be done by 
 them, or any three of them, Peter Folger being 
 one, shall be accounted legal and valid." 
 
 He learned the language of the Indians, and 
 was of much service as an interpreter. The aid 
 rendered by him in this manner to the Rev. 
 Thomas Mayhew, the Indian missionary at 
 Martha's Vineyard, is thus recorded by Thomas 
 Prince in his account of that good and able man, 
 the ancestor of the great Dr. Mayhew of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 " He had," says Prince, " an able and godly 
 Englishman, named Peter Folger, employed in 
 teaching the youth in reading, writing, and the 
 
PETER FOLGER. 
 
 gf 
 
 principles of religion by catechizing; being Mell 
 learned likewise in the Scriptures, and capable of 
 helping them in religious matters." A long letter 
 to his son-in-law, Joseph Pratt, is a further proof 
 of his familiarity with the Scriptures, and with 
 religious topics, and he is said to have occasionally 
 preached. He died in 1090, and his wife in 1704. 
 They had two sons and seven daughters, the 
 youngest of whom, Abiah, was Franklin's mother. 
 
 A few lines in the autobiography of his grand- 
 son, have buoyed up Peter Folger into immor- 
 tality as an author. " I was born at Boston, in 
 New England. My mother, the second wife, 
 was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one 
 of the first colonists of New England, of whom 
 Cotton Mather makes honourable mention, in his 
 Ecclesiastical History of that province, as a pious 
 and learned Englishman, if I rightly recollect his 
 expressions. I have been told of his having 
 written a variety of little pieces ; but there ap- 
 pears to be only one in print, wdiich I met with 
 many years ago. It was published in the year 
 1675, and is in familiar verse, agreeably to the 
 tastes of the times and the country. The author 
 addresses himself to the governors for the time 
 being, speaks for liberty of conscience, and in 
 favour of the anabaptists, quakers, and other sec- 
 taries, who had suffered persecution. To this 
 persecution he attributes the wars with the 
 natives, and other calamities which afflicted the 
 country, regarding thein as the judgments of God 
 in punishment of so odious an offence, and he 
 exhorts the government to the repeal of laws so 
 contrary to charity. The poem appeared to be 
 written with a manly freedom and a pleasing 
 simplicity." 
 
 The outbreaks of opinion and half-framed utter- 
 ances of the Nantucket surveyor, were to be 
 clarified, in the third generation, into the love of 
 liberty and the clear-toned expression of the 
 essayist, philosopher, and patriot. The ti tie of Fol- 
 ger's poem is, A Looking-glass for the Times, or 
 the Former Spirit of New England revived, in 
 this generation. It was reprinted in 1763. 
 Copies of it are very rare. "We are indebted for 
 the one from which we have reprinted, to a MS. 
 copy in possession of Mr. Bancroft. 
 
 A LOOKING-GLASS FOR TI1E TIMES, OR THE FORMER SPIRIT OF 
 NEW ENGLAND REVIVED IN THIS GENERATION. 
 
 Let all that read these verses know, 
 That I intend something to show 
 About our war, how it hath been 
 And also what is the chief sin, 
 That God doth so with us contend 
 And when these wars are like to end. 
 Read them in love ; do not despise 
 What here is set before thine eyes. 
 
 New England for these many years 
 
 hath had both rest and peace, 
 But now the case is otherwise; 
 
 our troubles doth increase. 
 
 The plague of war is now begun 
 
 in some great colonies, 
 And many towns are desolate 
 
 we may see with our eyes. 
 
 The loss of many goodly men 
 
 we may lament also, 
 Who in the war have lost their lives, 
 
 and fallen by our foe. 
 
 Our women also they have took 
 
 and children very small, 
 Great cruelty they have used 
 
 to some, though not to all. 
 
 The enemy that hath done this, 
 
 are very foolish men, 
 Yet God doth take of them a rod 
 
 to punish us for sin. 
 
 If we then truly turn to God, 
 
 He will remove his ire. 
 And will forthwith take this his rod. 
 
 And cast it into fire. 
 
 Let us then search, what is the sin 
 
 that God doth punish for ; 
 And when found out, cast it away 
 
 and ever it abhor. 
 
 Sure 'tis not chiefly for those sins, 
 
 that magistrates do name, 
 And make good laws for to suppress, 
 
 and execute the same. 
 
 But 'tis for that same crying sin, 
 
 that rulers will not own, 
 And that whereby much cruelty 
 
 to brethren hath been shown. 
 
 The sin of persecution 
 
 such laws established, 
 By which laws they have gone so far, 
 
 as blood hath touched blood. 
 
 It is now forty years ago, 
 
 since some of them were made, 
 
 Which was the ground and rise of all 
 the persecuting trade. 
 
 Then many worthy persons were 
 
 banished to the woods, 
 Where they among the natives did, 
 
 lose their most precious bloods. 
 
 And since that, many godly men, 
 
 Have been to prison sent, 
 They have been fined, and whipped also. 
 
 and suffered banishment 
 
 The cause of this their suffering 
 
 was not for any sin, 
 But for the witness that they bare 
 
 against babe sprinkling. 
 
 Of later time there hath been some 
 
 men come into this land, 
 To warn the rulers of their sins 
 
 as I do understand. 
 
 They call on all, both great and small, 
 
 to fear God and repent; 
 And for their testimonies thus 
 
 they suffer a punishment 
 
 Yea some of them they did affirm, 
 
 that they were sent of God, 
 To testify to great and small 
 
 that God would send his rod. 
 
 Against those colonies, because 
 they did make laws not good ; 
 
 And if those laws were not repealM 
 the end would be in blood. 
 
 And though that these were harmless men, 
 
 and did no hurt to any, 
 But lived well like honest men, 
 
 as testified by many; 
 
54 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Yet did these laws entrap them set 
 that they were put to death, — 
 
 And could not have the liberty 
 to speak near their last breath. 
 
 But these men were, as I have heard, 
 
 against our College men ; 
 And this was, out of doubt to me, 
 
 that which was most their sin. 
 
 They did reprove all hirelings, 
 
 with a most sharp reproof, 
 Because they knew not how to preach 
 
 till sure of means enough. 
 
 Now to the sufferings of these men 
 
 I have but gave a hint ; 
 Because tbat in George Bishop's* book 
 
 you may see all in print. 
 
 But may we know the counsellors 
 
 that brought our rulers in 
 To be so guilty as they are, 
 
 of the aforesaid sin ? 
 
 They were the tribe of ministers, 
 
 as they are said to be, 
 Who always to our magistrates 
 
 must be the eyes to see. 
 
 These are the men that by their wits 
 
 have spun so fair a shred, 
 That now themselves and others are 
 
 of natives in a dread. 
 
 What need is there of such a fear 
 
 if we have done no ill? 
 But 'tis because that we have been 
 
 not doing of God's wilL 
 
 When Cain had slain his brother, then 
 
 began this fear to be, 
 That every man would do to him 
 
 the same that did him see. 
 
 The Scripture doth declare the cause 
 why Cain did kill his brother ; 
 
 It was because the deeds of one 
 was good, and not the other. 
 
 Because that God did favor show 
 
 to Abel more than he, 
 That was in verity the thing 
 
 that envy could not see. 
 
 Then let us all, both great and small, 
 take heed how we do fight 
 
 Against the spirit of the Lord, 
 which is our highest light. 
 
 Let Magistrates and ministers 
 
 consider what they do : 
 Let them repeal those evil laws 
 
 and break those bands in two 
 
 * George Bishop, a Qnaker, published "New England 
 judged, not by man's but by the Spirit of the Lord, and the 
 sum Eealed up of New England's persecutions; being a brief 
 relation of the sufferings of the Quakers in that part of America, 
 from the beginning of the fifth month, 1656, to the end of the 
 tenth month, 1660; wherein the cruel whippings and scourg- 
 ings, bonds and imprisonments, and burning in the hand, and 
 cutting off of ears, banishment upon pain of death, and put- 
 ting to death, &c. are shortly touched." 1661. A second part 
 appeared in 1667, and both were reprinted in 1703, with "An 
 Answer to Cotton Mather's Abuses in his late History of New 
 England, by John Whiting, with an Appendix." 
 
 Bishop joined the Quakers in 1654. lie was the author of 
 several works on the doctrines of the sect to which he belong- 
 ed, published at intervals from 1660 to 1668. 
 
 Which have been made as traps and snares 
 
 to catch the innocents, 
 And whereby it has gone so far 
 
 to acts of violence. 
 
 I see you write yourselves in print, 
 
 the Balm of Giletvd ; 
 Then do not act as if you were 
 
 like men that are half mad. 
 
 If you can fieal the land, what is 
 
 the cause things are so bad ? 
 I think instead of that, you make 
 
 the hearts of people sad. 
 
 Is this a time for you to press, 
 
 to draw the blood of those 
 That are your neighbours and your friend? ! 
 
 as if you had no foes. 
 
 Yea, some there are, as I have heard, 
 
 have lately found out tricks 
 To put the cause of all the war 
 
 upon the heretics, 
 
 Or rather on some officers, 
 
 that now begin to slack 
 The execution of those laws, 
 
 whose consequence is black. 
 
 I do affirm to you, if that 
 
 be really your mind, 
 You must go turn another leaf, 
 
 before that peace you find. 
 
 Now, loving friends and countrymen, 
 
 I wish we may be wise, 
 'Tis now a time for every man 
 
 to see with his own eyes. 
 
 'Tis easy to provoke the Lord 
 
 to send among us war, 
 'Tis easy to do violence, 
 
 to envy, and to jar. 
 
 To show a spirit that is high, 
 
 to scorn and domineer ; 
 To pride it out, as if there were 
 
 no God to make us fear ; 
 
 To covet what is not our own, 
 
 to cheat and to oppress, 
 To live a life that might free us 
 
 from acts of Righteousness; 
 
 To swear and lie, and to be drunk, 
 
 to backbite one another ; 
 To carry tales that may do hurt 
 
 and mischief to our brother I 
 
 To live in such hypocrisy, 
 
 as men may think us good, 
 Although our hearts within are full 
 
 of evil and of blood. 
 
 All these and many evils more 
 
 are eas3 T for to do : 
 But to repent, and to reform, 
 
 we have no strength unto. 
 
 Let us then seek for help from God, 
 
 and turn to him that smite: 
 Let us take heed that at no time 
 
 we sin against our light. 
 
 Let's bear our testimony plain 
 
 against sin in high and low ; 
 And see that we no cowards be, 
 
 to hide the light we know 
 
PETER FOLGEK. 
 
 55 
 
 When Jonathan is called to court, 
 
 shall we as standers by, 
 Be still and have no word to speak, 
 
 but suffer him to die ! 
 
 If that you say you cannot help, 
 
 things will be as they are; 
 I tell you true, 'tis plain and clear, 
 
 those words may come from fear. 
 
 That you shall lose some carnal things, 
 
 if you do speak for God; 
 And here you go the nearest way 
 
 to taste deep of his rod. 
 
 Tis true there are some times, indeed, 
 
 of silence to the meek ; 
 Not ever, for the Lord doth say, 
 
 there is a time to speak. 
 
 Be vigilant then for to see 
 
 the movings of your heart, 
 And you will know right well the time 
 
 when you shall act your part 
 
 I would not have you for to think, 
 
 tho' I have wrote so much, 
 That I hereby do throw a stone 
 
 at magistrates, as such. 
 
 The rulers in the country, I 
 
 do own them in the Lord ; 
 And such as are for government, 
 
 with them I do accord. 
 
 But that which I intend hereby, 
 is, that they would keep bounds, 
 
 And meddle not with God's worship, 
 for which they have no ground. 
 
 And I am not alone herein, 
 there's many hundreds more, 
 
 That have for many years ago 
 spake much upon that score. 
 
 Indeed I really believe, 
 
 it's not your business 
 To meddle with the Church of Christ 
 
 in matters more or less. 
 
 There's work enough to do besides, 
 to judge in mine and thine : 
 
 To succor poor and fatherless, 
 that is the work in fine. 
 
 And I do think that now you find 
 
 enough of that to do ; 
 Much more at such a time as this, 
 
 as there is war also. 
 
 Indeed I count it very low, 
 
 for people in these days, 
 To ask the rulers for their leave 
 
 to serve God in his ways. 
 
 I count it worse in magistrates 
 
 to use the iron sword, 
 To do that work which Christ alone 
 
 will do by his own word. 
 
 The Church may now go stay at home. 
 
 there's nothing for to do; 
 Their work is all cut out by law, 
 
 and almost made up too. 
 
 Now, reader, least you should mistake, 
 
 in what I said before 
 Concerning ministers, I think 
 
 to write a few words more. 
 
 I would not have you for to think 
 
 that I am such a fool, 
 To write against learning, as such, 
 
 or to cry down a school 
 
 But 't is that Popish college way, 
 
 that I intend hereby, 
 "Where men are inew'd up in a cage; 
 
 fit for all villainy. 
 
 But I shall leave this puddle stuff 
 
 to neighbours at the door, 
 That can speak more unto such things, 
 
 upon a knowing score. 
 
 And now these men, though ne'er so bad. 
 
 when they have learn'd their trade, 
 They must come in and bear a part, 
 
 whatever laws are made. 
 
 I can't but wonder for to see 
 
 our magistrates and wise, 
 That they sit still and suffer them 
 
 to ride on them, not rise. 
 
 And stir them up to do that work, 
 that Scripture rule there wants, 
 
 To persecute and persecute 
 
 those that they judge are saints. 
 
 There's one thing more that I believe 
 
 is worse than all the rest, 
 They vilify the Spirit of God, 
 
 and count school learning best. 
 
 If that a boy hath learn'd his trade, 
 
 and can the Spirit disgrace, 
 Then he is lifted up on high, 
 
 and needs must have a place. 
 
 But I shall leave this dirty stuff, 
 
 and give but here a hint, 
 Because that you have Cradock's book.* 
 
 and may see more in print. 
 
 There are some few, it may be, that 
 
 are clear of this same trade ; 
 And of those men, I only say, 
 
 these verses are not made. 
 
 Now for the length of time, how long 
 
 these wars are like to be, 
 I may speak something unto that, 
 
 if men will reason see. 
 
 The Scripture doth point out the time, 
 
 and 'tis as we do chuse, 
 For to obey the voice of God, 
 
 or else for to refuse. 
 
 The prophet Jeremy doth say, 
 when war was threat'ned sore, 
 
 That if men do repent and turn, 
 God will afflict no more. 
 
 But such a turning unto God, 
 
 as is but verbally, 
 When men refuse for to reform, 
 
 it is not worth a fly. 
 
 * " Gospel Liberty, in the Extensions and Limitations of it," 
 Lond. 1646, 4to„ by Walter Cradnck, is probably tho work re- 
 ferred to. Another Cradock, Samuel, a non-conformist divine, 
 born 1620, died 1706, however, published " Gospel Liberty: 
 ; his Glad Tidings from Heaven :" no date. Both were the 
 authors of a number of sermons and religious works. 
 
56 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Tis hard for you, as I do hear, 
 
 though you be under rod, 
 To say to Israel, Go, you, 
 
 and serve the Lord your God. 
 
 Though you do many prayers make, 
 
 and add fasting thereto, 
 Yet if your hands be full of blood, 
 
 all this will never do. 
 
 The end that God doth send his sword, 
 
 is that we might amend, 
 Then, if that we reform aright, 
 
 the war will shortly end. 
 
 New England they are like the Jews, 
 
 as like as like can be ; 
 They made large promises to God, 
 
 at home and at the sea. 
 
 They did proclaim free Liberty, 
 
 they cut the calf in twain, 
 They part between the part thereof, 
 
 O this was all in vain. 
 
 For since they came into this land, 
 
 they floated to and fro, 
 Sometimes, then, brethren may be free, 
 
 while hence to prison go. 
 
 According as the times to go, 
 
 and weather is abroad, 
 So we can serve ourselves sometimes 
 
 and sometimes serve the Lord. 
 
 But let us hear what God doth say, 
 
 to such backsliding men, 
 That can with ease to break their vows, 
 
 and soon go back again. Jek. 34. 
 
 He saith he will proclaim for them, 
 
 a freedom to the sword, 
 Because they would not fear him so. 
 
 as to obey his word. 
 
 This liberty unto the sword, 
 
 he hath proclaimed for us, 
 And we are like to feel it long, 
 
 if matters do go thus. 
 
 'Tis better for our magistrates, 
 
 to shorten time, I say, 
 By breaking of those bands in two 
 
 that look an evil way. 
 
 You do profess yourselves to be 
 
 men that do pray always, 
 Then do not keep such evil laws, 
 
 as may serve at wet days. 
 
 If that the peace of God did rule, 
 
 with power in our heart, 
 Then outward war would flee away, 
 
 and rest would be our part. 
 
 If we do love our brethren, 
 
 and do to them, I say, 
 As we would they should do to us, 
 
 we should be quiet straightway. 
 
 But if that we a smiting go, 
 
 of fellow -servants so, 
 No marvel if our wars increase 
 
 and things so heavy go. 
 
 'Tis like that some may think and say, 
 
 our war would not remain, 
 If so be that a thousand more 
 
 of natives were but slain. 
 
 Alas ! these are but foolish thoughts, 
 
 God can make more arise, 
 And if that there were none at all. 
 
 he can make war with flies. 
 
 It is the presence of the Lord, 
 
 must make our foes to shake, 
 Or else it's like he will e'er long 
 
 know how to make us quake. 
 
 Let us lie low before the Lord, 
 
 in all humility, 
 And then we shall with Asa see 
 
 our enemies to fly. 
 
 But if that we do leave the Lord, 
 
 and trust in fleshly arm, 
 Then 'tis no wonder if that we 
 
 do hear more news of harm. 
 
 Let's have our faith and hope in God, , 
 
 and trust in him alone, 
 And then no doubt this storm of war 
 
 it quickly will be gone. 
 
 Thus, reader, I, in love to all, 
 
 leave these few lines with thee, 
 Hoping that in the substance we 
 
 shall very well agree. 
 
 If that you do mistake the verse 
 
 for its uncomely dress, 
 I tell thee true, I never thought 
 
 that it would pass the press. 
 
 If any at the matter kick, 
 
 it's like he's galled at heart, 
 And that's the reason why he kicks, 
 
 because he finds it smart. 
 
 I am for peace, and not for war, 
 
 and that's the reason why 
 I write more plain than some men do. 
 
 that use to daub and lie. 
 
 But I shall cease and set my name 
 
 to what I hero insert, 
 Because to be a libeller, 
 
 I hate it with my heart. 
 
 From Sherbon* town, where now I dwell, 
 
 my name I do put here, 
 Without offence your real friend. 
 
 it is Peter Folgek. 
 April 23, 16*76. 
 
 WILLIAM HUBBAED. 
 "William Hubbaud was born in 1621, and was of 
 the first class who graduated from Harvard in 
 1042. He became minister of Ipswich,t where he 
 
 was visited in 1686 by John Dunton,* who gives 
 a good account of his hospitality, amiability, and 
 
 * Nantucket. 
 
 + "The Life and Errors of John Dunton,citi7x>n of London/* 
 a De Boe-ish sort of book, published in lYt'K The author was 
 a bookseller whose humor it was to describe his fellow trad- 
 ers, customers, and lady visitors — an odd mixture (as in Defoe) 
 of piety and Jove-making. In 1686, he visited Boston with a 
 venture of books, Puritan stock, which sold well. He describes 
 the Mathers atiri others. From his account, gallantry was 
 greatly in vogue in the old Puritan metropolis. His descrip- 
 tions of the ladies are highly amusing. 
 
MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH. 
 
 57 
 
 acquirements. He published a Narrative of the 
 troubles with the Indians from 1607 to 1677, 
 and a number of sermons ; and died Sept. 14, 
 170-1. He wrote a History of New England, for 
 which the state paid him £50, and which was 
 used by Mather, Hutchinson, who states that it 
 was "of great use" to him, and other writers. It 
 is said to have been saved from the Haines in the 
 attack on Governor Hutchinson's house, by Dr. 
 Andrew E. Eliot, and was presented by his son to 
 the Massachusetts Historical Society, by whom it 
 was finally printed in 1815. It comprises the his- 
 tory from the discovery of the country to the 
 year 1680. 
 
 MICHAEL WIGGLESWOETU. 
 Michael Wig&lbswoeth was, in his day, one of 
 the most successful of our early writers. lie was 
 born about 16-31, and after completing his studies 
 at Harvard, in 1651, appointed a tutor in the col- 
 lege. He soon after " made his remove to Meldon," 
 where he was ordained, and remained a "faithful 
 pastor, for about a jubilee of years together." 
 Frequent attacks of illness to which his slight 
 constitution disposed him, for he was, as one of his 
 friends informs us, in a preliminary address to the 
 Day of Doom, " a little feeble shadow of a man," 
 forced him occasionally to suspend his pulpit ex- 
 ertions. These intervals were, however, marked 
 by a change rather than cessation of labor, as 
 during them he composed his " Day of Doom" and 
 other poems. Notwithstanding his weak frame, 
 
 he lived to the good old age of seventy-four, 
 dying in the year 1705. Cotton Mather wrote 
 his funeral sermon, and the following 
 
 THE EXCELLENT WIGGLESWORTH REMEMBERED BY SOME GOOD 
 TOKENS. 
 
 His pen did once meat from the eater fetch, 
 And now he's gone beyond the eater's reach. 
 His body once so thin, was next to none ; 
 From hence, he's to unbodied spirits flown. 
 Once his rare skill did all diseases heal, 
 And he does nothing now uneasy feeL, 
 He to his paradise is joyful come, 
 And waits with joy to see his day of Doom. 
 
 Wigglesworth was the author of The Bay of 
 Boom, or a Poetical Bescription of the Great and 
 Last Judgment, with a short Biscourse about 
 Eternity, and Meat out of the Eater, or Medita- 
 tions concerning the necessity, end, and usefulness 
 of Afflictions unto God's Children; all tending 
 to prepare them for, and comfort them under the 
 Cross. Both are small volumes, and went 
 through several editions. The second is the 
 rudest in versification, and contains some amus- 
 ing examples of incongruous though familiar il- 
 lustration. 
 
 We must not on the knee 
 
 Be always dandled, 
 
 Nor must we think to ride to Heaven 
 
 Upon a feather-bed. 
 
 We soon are surfeited 
 
 With strong delicious matter. 
 
 And, therefore, God who knows our frame, 
 
 Mingleth our wine with water. 
 
 Meat out of the Eater, is divided into a number 
 of sections of some ten or twelve eight-line stan- 
 zas each. Its style is in general quaint and harsh, 
 but passages occasionally occur like the following, 
 which possess high merit. 
 
 Soldier, be strong, who fightest 
 
 Under a Captain stout ; 
 Dishonour not thy conquering Heal 
 
 By basely giving out. 
 
 Endure a while, bear up, 
 
 And hope for better things. 
 War ends in peace, and morning light 
 
 Mounts upon midnight's wing. 
 
 Through changes manifold, 
 
 And dangers perilous, 
 Through fiery flames, and water floods, 
 
 Through ways calamitous 
 
 We travel towards heaven, 
 
 A quiet habitation. 
 Christ shows a kingdom there prepar'd 
 
 Ev'n from the world's foundation. 
 
 heaven, most holy place, 
 
 Which art our country dear ! 
 What cause have I to long for thee, 
 
 And beg with many a tear. 
 
 Earth is to me a prison ; 
 
 This boly an useless wight ; 
 And all things else vile, vain, and nought 
 
 To one in such ill plight. 
 
 Christ, make haste, from bands 
 
 Of sin and death me free, 
 And to those heavenly mansions, 
 
 Be pleas'd to carry me. 
 
 Where glorified saints 
 
 For ever are possest 
 Of God in Christ their chiefest good, 
 
 And from all troubles rest. 
 
 It is followed by a collection of verses, similar 
 in form and style, the title and contents of which 
 are sufficiently curious to be quoted in full. 
 
 ELDDLES UNRIDDLED ; OR, CHRISTIAN PARADOXES. 
 
 Broke open, smelling like sweet 
 Spice new taken out of boxes. 
 
 Each paradox is like a box, 
 
 That cordials rare incloseth : 
 This Key unlock, op'neth the Box, 
 
 And what's within discloseth ; 
 That whoso will, may take his fill 
 
 And gain where no man loseth. 
 
 The contents follow on the back of the title- 
 page. 
 
 ELDDLES UNRIDDLED ; OR, CHRISTIAN PAEADOXES. 
 
 Light in Darkness, 
 
 Sick men's Health, 
 Strength in Weakness, 
 
 Poor men's Wealth, 
 In confinement, 
 
 Liberty, 
 In Solitude 
 
 Good company. 
 Joy in Sorrow, 
 
 Life in Death's 
 Heavenly Crowns for 
 
 Thorny Wreaths. 
 
58 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Are presented to thy view, 
 In the Poems that ensue. 
 
 If my trials had been thine, 
 
 These would cheer thee more than wine. 
 
 The Day of Doom is a versification of the scrip- 
 tural account of the last judgment. It was re- 
 printed in London, and a few years ago in Boston. 
 In the prefatory poetical introduction the author 
 expresses his intention to rescue poetry from hea- 
 then classical perversions. 
 
 A PRAYER TTNTO CHRIST, THE JUDGE OF THE WOELl>. 
 
 dearest, dread, most glorious King 
 I'll of thy justest judgment sing : 
 
 Do thou my head and heart inspire, 
 To sing aright, as I desire. 
 Thee, thee alone I'll invocate, 
 For I do much abominate 
 To call the Muses to mine aid: 
 "Which is the unchristian use, and trade 
 Of some that Christians would be thought, 
 And yet they worship worse than nought. 
 Oh ! what a deal of blasphemy, 
 And heathenish impiety, 
 In Christian poets may be found, 
 Where heathen gods with praise are crowned, 
 They make Jehovah to stand by, 
 Till Juno, Venus, Mercury, 
 With frowning Mars and thundering Jove, 
 - Rule earth below, and heaven above. 
 But I have learnt to pray to none, 
 Save only God in Christ alone. 
 Nor will I laud, no not in jest, 
 That which I know God doth detest. 
 
 1 reckon it a damning evil 
 
 To give God's praises to the Devil, 
 Thou, Christ, and he to whom I pray, 
 Th}' glor}' fain I would display. 
 Oh, guide me by th}' sacred spirit, 
 So to indite and so to write, 
 That I thy holy name may praise, 
 And teach the sons of man thy ways. 
 
 One of the best passages of the poem, which we 
 quote, is modestly introduced at the end of the 
 volume, " to fill up the empty pages following." 
 
 A BONG OF EMPTINESS. — VANITY OF VANITY. 
 
 Vain, frail, short-lived, and miserable man, 
 Learn what thou art, when thy estate is best, 
 A restless wave o' th' troubled ocean, 
 A dream, a lifeless picture finely drest. 
 
 A wind, a flower, a vapor, and a bubble, 
 A wheel that stands not still, a trembling reed, 
 A trolling stone, dry dust, light chaff and stuff, 
 A ehadow of something, but truly nought indeed. 
 
 Learn what deceitful toys, and empty things, 
 This world and all its best enjoyments be : 
 Out of the earth no true contentment springs, 
 But all things here are vexing vanity. 
 
 For what is beauty, but a fading flower, 
 Or what is pleasure but the devil's bait, 
 Whereby he catcheth whom he would devour, 
 And multitudes of souls doth ruinate. 
 
 And what are friends, but mortal men as we, 
 Whom death from us may quickly separate ; 
 Or else their hearts may quite estranged be, 
 And all their love be turned into hate. 
 
 And what are riches, to be doated on ? 
 Uncertain, fickle, and ensnaring things; 
 
 They draw men's souls into perdition, 
 
 And when most needed, take them to their wings. 
 
 Ah, foolish man ! that sets his heart upon 
 Such empty shadows, such wild fowl as these, 
 That being gotten will be quickly gone. 
 And whilst they stay increase but his disease. 
 
 As in a dropsy, drinking drought begets, 
 
 The more he drinks, the more he still requires; 
 
 So on this world whoso affection sets, 
 
 His wealth's increase, increaseth his desires. 
 
 happy man, whose portion is above 
 
 These floods, where flames, where foes cannot bereave 
 
 him, 
 Most wretched man, that fixed hath his love 
 Upon this world that surely will deceive him. 
 
 For what is Honour? what is sov'reignty, 
 Whereto men's hearts so restlessly aspire ? 
 Whom have they crowned with felicity? ^ 
 When did they ever satisfy desire ? 
 
 The ear of man with hearing is not fill'd; 
 To see new lights still coveting the eye : 
 The craving stomach, though it may be still'd, 
 Yet craves again without a new supply. 
 
 All earthly things man's cravings answer not, 
 Whose little heart would all the world contain, 
 (If all the world would fall to one man's lot) 
 And notwithstanding empty still remain. 
 
 The Eastern conqueror was said to weep, 
 When he the Indian ocean did view, 
 To see his conquest bounded by the deep, 
 And no more worlds remaining to subdue. 
 
 Who would that man in his enjoyment bless, 
 Or envy him, or covet his estate, 
 Whose gettings do augment his greediness, 
 And make his wishes more intemperate? 
 
 Such is the wonted and the common guise 
 Of those on earth that bear the greatest sway ; 
 If with a few the ease be otherwise, 
 They seek a kingdom that abides for aye. 
 
 Moreover they, of all the sons of men, 
 That rule, and are in highest places set; 
 Are most inclined to scorn their brethren ; 
 And God himself (without great grace) forget. 
 
 For as the sun doth blind the gazer's eyes, 
 
 That for a time they nought discern aright : 4 
 
 So honour doth befool and blind the wise, 
 
 And their own lustre 'reaves them of their sight 
 
 Great are their dangers, manifold their cares, 
 Thro' which whilst others sleep, they scarcely nap, 
 And yet are oft surprised unawares, 
 And fall unwilling into envie's trap. 
 
 The mean mechanic finds his kindly rest, 
 All void of fear sleepeth the country clown : 
 When greatest princes often are distrest, 
 And cannot sleep upon their beds of down. 
 
 Could strength or valor men immortalize, 
 Could wealth or honor keep them from decay, 
 There were some cause the same to idolize, 
 And give the lye to that which I do say. 
 
 But neither can such things themselves endure, 
 Without the hazard of a change one hour, 
 Nor such as trust in them can they secure 
 From dismal days, or death's prevailing pow'r. 
 
 If beauty could the beautiful defend 
 From death's dominion, then fair Absalom 
 Had not been brought to such a shameful end : 
 But fair and foul unto the grave must come. 
 
INCREASE MATHER ; COTTON MATHER. 
 
 59 
 
 If wealth or sceptre3 could immortal mate, 
 Then wealthy Croesus wherefore art thou dead? 
 If warlike force, which makes the world to quake, 
 Then why is Julius Csesar perished ? 
 
 Where are the Scipio's thunderbolts of war ? 
 Renowned Pompey, Csesar's enemy? 
 Stout Hannibal, Rome's terror known so far? 
 Great Alexander, what's become of thee? 
 
 If gifts and bribes death's favour might but win. 
 If pow'r, if force, or threat'nings might it fray, 
 All these, and more, had- still surviving been, 
 But all are gone, for death will have no nay. 
 
 Such is this world, with all her pomp and glory: 
 Such are the men whom worldly eyes admire, 
 Cut down by time, and now become a story, 
 That we might after better things aspire. 
 
 Oo boast thyself of what thy heart enjoys, 
 Vain man! triumph in all thy worldly bliss: 
 Thy best enjoyments are but trash and toys, 
 Delight thyself in that which worthless is. 
 
 Omnia prsetereunt praeter amare Deum. 
 
 INCREASE MATHER— COTTON MATHEE. 
 Cotton Mather had the fortune or misfortune 
 to be born into the world to sustain a great repu- 
 tation. The Mather family had struck its roots 
 deep in the New England polity. Richard 
 Mather, the grandfather, came to America an 
 emigrant non-conformist divine in 1636, and 
 immediately took an important ecclesiastical posi- 
 tion as pastor in Dorchester. His son, Increase 
 Mather, born at that town in 1639, developed 
 the learning of the name. He was a graduate of 
 Harvard, of which institution he became Presi- 
 dent in 1085, in his forty-sixth year, when he 
 had fully established himself in Church and State 
 as the preacher of the North Church in Boston, 
 and the opponent of the government of diaries 
 II., in support of the Colonial Charter. He was 
 employed in England on public affairs during the 
 difficult period of the Revolution of 1688, bring- 
 ing back with him a new rojal charter, under 
 which he had the privilege of nominating his 
 friend, Sir William Phips, ai Governor to the 
 King. In that age, when learned men gave 
 greater dignity to their names in sonorous Latin, 
 he was called Crescentius Hatherus,* and his 
 studies entitled him to the honor, for he parsed 
 two thirds of the day amongst his books, and left 
 behind him eighty-live publications, a considerable 
 number, which was to be very far outdistanced 
 by his bookish son. These productions of In- 
 crease Mather are chiefly sermons in the theolo- 
 gical style of the day. His Gases of Conscience 
 concerning Witchcraft, published in 1693, bears 
 an historical value. The last work of Increase 
 Mather was his Agathangelus, a preface to his 
 son Cotton's Ccelestinus* It has this touching ad- 
 
 * Which famous John "Wilson anagrammatized into En ! 
 Chrivtii$ merces tua. The appellation was once an inconve- 
 nience to Mather when he claimed some arrears of salary in 
 England; and some ofHeial, ignorant of these refinements, 
 denied his personal identity, in consequence of his having 
 another name. Remarkables in the Life of Increase Mather, 
 21. 
 
 T Cce'estinue. A Conversation in Heaven, quickened and 
 assisted, with Discoveries of things in the Heavenly World. 
 And some Relations of the Views and Joys that have been 
 
 dress or " Attestation," which does honor to the 
 father and the man. 
 
 The landscape of heaven here exhibited is drawn 
 by one who, for two-and-forty years, has, as a son 
 with a father, served with me in the gospel. It 
 will be much if these forty-two periods do not finish 
 our peregrinations together through the wilderness. 
 For my own part, 1 am every hour looking and 
 longing for the pleasant land, where I am sure I 
 shall not find things as I do here this day. And 
 having been somewhat comforted and strengthened 
 by the prospect, which is here, as from the top of 
 Mount Pisgah, taken of it, and entirely satisfied in 
 it, 1 commend it as one of my last legacies to the 
 people of God, which I must leave behind me in a 
 world which has things come and coming upon it, 
 which blessed are they that are escaped from. 
 
 Increase Mather married a daughter of John 
 Cotton, of eminent rank in the old New Eng- 
 land Divinity, who gave the Christian name to 
 his son. 
 
 Where two great names their sanctuary take, 
 And in a third combined a greater make. 
 
 He died in his eighty-fifth year, in 1723, and in 
 the sixty-sixth of his ministry. Theology was 
 long lived in ancient New England* His life 
 was written by his illustrious son with great 
 spirit and unction.t 
 
 (f mabfor. 
 
 Cotton Mather wa* born in Boston, Feb. 12, 
 1663. He was well trained for Harvard by the 
 
 granted unto several persons In the confines of It. Introduced 
 by Agathangelus, or, an Essay on the Ministry of the Holy 
 Angels, and recommended unto the people of God, by tho 
 reverend Dr. Increase Mather; waiting in the daily expecta- 
 tion of his departure to that glorious world. Boston : printed 
 by S. Kneeland, for Nath. Belknap, at his shop, the corner of 
 Scarlett's Wharffe and next door to the Mitre Coffee House. 
 1723. 18mo. pp. 162. 
 
 * Mr. J. P. Dabney has published. Am. Quar. Register, xiv. 
 377, a list of one hundred and eighty-nine graduates 6f Har- 
 vard, chiefly clergymen, who, up to 1S42, had reached or 
 passed the age of eighty-four. There are four graduates of 
 Harvard centenarians. Dr. Farmer, in the same work (x. 39), 
 has published a series of Ecclesiastical Statistics, including the 
 Ases of 8411 deceased Ministers of the Gospel, who were gra- 
 duated at Harvard College, from 1642 to 1826. Of these, 343 
 died at seventy and upwards. There are 17 at ninety and 
 upwards. 
 
 t Parentator. Memoirs of Remarkables in the Life and tho 
 Death of the Ever Memorable Dr. Increase Mather, who ex- 
 pired August 23, 1723. 2 Kings ii. 12. My Father, my Fathor. 
 Boston: Printed by B. Green for Nathaniel Belknap. 1724. 
 
60 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE, 
 
 venerable schoolmaster Ezekiel Cheever,* and was 
 a precocious student; for at twelve years of age 
 he had read Cicero, Terence, Ovid, and Virgil, 
 the Greek Testament, and entered upon Socrates, 
 Homer, and the Hebrew Grammar. To adopt 
 the old reading of Shakespeare, 
 
 From his cradle, 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one. 
 
 A mountain of learning and theology was 
 heaped upon his childhood. When he left col- 
 lege, with a handsome compliment in Latin 
 from President Oakes, he employed himself for 
 several years in teaching. In 1684, at the 
 age of twenty-one, he was ordained, when he 
 preached the first time for his grandfather, the 
 Rev. Mr. Richard Mather, at Dorchester; the 
 next Lord's day for his own father at Boston; 
 and the Lord's day after, for his grandfather 
 Cotton at Boston. His spiritual life was of an 
 earlier date; for in religion, he was a divine 
 almost from his cradle. He had, as a youth, 
 acquired a habit of meditation and religious im- 
 provement, modelled upon Bishop Hall's Occa- 
 sional Meditations, in which the most familiar 
 occurrences are chosen for remark. 
 
 This quaintness suited the genius of Mather. 
 Every incident in life afforded him a text. He 
 had a special consideration for the winding up of 
 his watch. As he mended his fire he thought of 
 rectifying his life; the act of paring his nails 
 warned him to lay aide "all superfluity of 
 naughtiness;" while "drinking a di-h of tea" he 
 was especially invited to fragrant and grateful re- 
 flections. He appropriated the time while he 
 was dressing to particular speculations, parcelling 
 out a different set of questions for every day in 
 the week. On Sunday morning he commented 
 on himself, as pastor; on Monday, as husband 
 and father; on Tuesday he thought of his rela- 
 tions, "taking a catalogue which began with his 
 parents and extended as far a-; the children of his 
 cousin-germans," and, by an odd distribution, in- 
 terchanging them sometimes with his enemies; 
 Wednesday he gave to the consideration of the 
 church throughout the world; on Thursday he 
 turned over his religious society efforts; Friday 
 he devoted to the poor and suffering, and Satur- 
 day he concluded with his own spiritual in- 
 terests.t 
 
 To these devout associations he added the 
 most humorous turns, not merely improving, — a 
 notion readily entertained — such similes of mortal 
 affairs as the striking of a clock or the dying 
 flame of a candle, but pinning his prayers, on a 
 tall man, that he might have "high attainments 
 in Christianity ;" on a negro, that he might be 
 
 * Cheever, a Londoner by birth, was for more than seventy 
 years a teacher in this country — at Newhaven, Ipswich, Char- 
 lestown, and at Boston, where he passed the last thirty-seven 
 years of his life, till bis death, in 1718, at the venerable age of 
 ninety-three. His Latin Accidence had reached its twentieth 
 edition in 1768. He also wrote on the Scripture Prophecies. 
 Cotton Mather says, in one of his carefully twisted elegies, 
 that his numerous pupils employed the parts of speech which 
 he taught them in sounding his praises: — 
 
 " With interjections they break off at last, 
 But, ah is all they use, wo, and alasl" 
 
 The story is, that Cheever used to boast of having flogged 
 seven of the judges on the bench, 
 t Life by Samuel Mather, 50-59. 
 
 washed white by the Spirit ; on a very small 
 man, that he might have great blessings ; upon a 
 man on horseback, that as the creature served 
 him, so he might serve the Creator ; and, at the 
 suggestion of so suspicious an incentive, savoring 
 so strongly of unholy egotism, as a person passing 
 by without observing him, " Lord, I pray thee, 
 help that man to take a due notice of Christ."* 
 
 It may not be unreasonable to trace this habit, 
 with the disposition of mind upon which it grew 
 in Mather, till he carried out the doctrine of spe- 
 cial providence to an excess which assumed the 
 worst forms of dyspeptic and morbid suspicion. 
 Pious persons sometimes forget that, while Deity 
 rales the world with particular control, in which 
 nothing is so small as not to be great, it becomes 
 not the ignorance of short-sighted man to be the 
 interpreter. 
 
 It was probably one form of this not uncom- 
 mon delusion which led Cotton Mather to enter- 
 so vigorously upon the prosecution of witchcraft. 
 Wherever in life he saw an effect, he looked 
 about him for an immediate cause, and would 
 •take up the nearest one which suited his taste 
 and humor. He was undoubtedly instrumental 
 in fomenting the murderous proceedings at Salem ; 
 it would be harsh to suppose with the deliberate 
 intent of reviving a fading ecclesiastic tyranny 
 and priestly despotism in the land, but certainly 
 with an over-zealous eagerness and inordinate 
 credulity. Wi-er men than Mather, in those 
 days, had a certain kind of belief in the possi- 
 bility of witchcraft. Chief Justice Hale, in 1682, 
 had sanctioned the punishment of death for a 
 piece of intolerable nonsense in England, and 
 witches had been executed in New England before 
 Mather was born. There was ju-t lurking super- 
 stition enough about in the country, in the thin 
 settlements and in the purlieus of the wilder- 
 ness, fostered by the disuse of independent thinking 
 under the dogmatic puritan theology, to be effec- 
 tively worked upon by a credulous, zealous, unscru- 
 pulous advocate ; and such, for the time being, was 
 Cotton Mather. Vanity appears to have been his 
 ruling passion, and vanity associated with priestly 
 power and superstition presents a fearful combi- 
 nation for the times. Self-blinded, he was fooled 
 by the most transparent absurdities. He gives an 
 account, in the Magnalia-, of the freaks of a young 
 girl, one of the bewitched family of the Good- 
 wins, whom he took into his house, and who 
 played him a variety of silly pranks, his relation 
 of which is exceedingly quaint and amusing, all 
 of them to be explained by the mischievous 
 caprices of the sex, with so capital an object as 
 himself to work upon, but which the learned 
 doctor in divinity magnified in the pulpit — he 
 speaks of "entertaining his congregation with a 
 sermon" on the subject — and the "famous Mr. 
 Baxter" echoed in London, as a " great instance, 
 with such convincing evidence, that he must be a 
 very obdurate Sadducee, that will not believe it." 
 This was in 1088. His Memorable Providences 
 relating to Witchcraft appeared in 1689. The 
 twenty executions of Salem took place in 1692; 
 nineteen were hung, and another pressed to death, 
 by that peculiar institution of the old English 
 
 * Life by Samuel Mather, 107-9. 
 
COTTON MATHEE. 
 
 Gl 
 
 law, the peine forte et dure. Mather was on the ! 
 spot, aiding and abetting u riding in the whirl- 
 wind, and directing the storm." At the execu- 
 tion of the Btergyman, George Burroughs, he was 
 present among the crowd on horseback, address- 
 ing the people, and cavilling at the ordination of 
 his brother pastor.* Hi* Wonders of the Invisible 
 World; being an account of the trial of several 
 witches lately executed in New England,!? tells 
 the story of these melancholy judicial crimes, 
 with a hearty unction which gloats over the 
 victims. His faith is as unrelenting as the zeal 
 of an antiquarian or a virtuoso. His spiritual 
 rant, forgetting the appropriate language of the 
 scholar and the divine, anticipates the burlesque 
 of a Maw-worm, or the ravings of a Mucklewrath. 
 When the witch mania had run out, having 
 brought itself to a reductio ad absurdum, by ; 
 venting suspicions of the diabolical agencies of 
 the wife of Governor Phips, which was carrying 
 the matter quite too far, and Robert Galef had 
 published his spirited exposure of the affair in 
 1700,{ Mather repeating the stories in the old i 
 strain in the Magnalia, makes no retraction of his ' 
 former judgments or convictions. In 1723, in the 
 chapter of the " Remarkables" of his father, en- 
 titled Troubles from the Invisible World, he 
 repeats the absurd stories of the " prodigious pos- j 
 session of devils" at Salem.§ 
 
 * Bancroft's U. S. iii. 92. 
 
 t The Wonders of tbe Invisible World: being an account of 
 the Tryals of Several Witches, lately executed in New England, 
 and of several remarkable curiosities therein occurring." Tu- 
 cctlier with, 1. Observations upon the nature, the number, and 
 the operations of the Devils. 2. A short narrative of a late 
 outrage committed by a knot of witches in Swedeland, very 
 much resembling, and so uir explaining, that under which New 
 England has labored. 3. Some councils directing a due im- 
 provement of the terrible things lately done by the unusual 
 and amazing Kange of Evil Spirits in New England. 4. A 
 brief discourse upon those Temptations which are tbe more 
 ordinary Devices of Satan, by Cotton Mather. Published by 
 the special command of his Excellency the Governor of the 
 Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in New England. Printed 
 first at Boston, in New England ; and reprinted at London, for 
 John Dunton, at the Raven, in the Poultry. 1093. 4to. pp. 93. 
 
 X More Wonders of the Invisible World; or the Wonders 
 of the invisible World Displayed in five parts. An account of j 
 the sufferings of Margaret Rule, collected by Robert Calef, 
 merchant of Boston, iii New England. London, 1700. Caief's '' 
 book, on its arrival in this country, was publicly burnt by the 
 Mather agency, in tbe college yard at Cambridge. Samuel 
 Mather, in the Life of his Father (p. 46). disposes of it more 
 summarily than posteiity is willing to do. "There was a 
 certain disbeliever of witchcraft, who wrote against this book ; 
 but as the man is dead, his book died long before him." This 
 merchant of Boston deserves to be well remembered for his 
 independence and acuteness. He is deserving of more special 
 notice than he has received. He died in 1720. 
 
 § The witchcraft executions had been the work of a few 
 clergymen and their friends in office, and had been carried 
 through by a special court got up among them for the occasion. 
 Bancroft (iii. 88) assigns the " responsibility of the tragedy 1 ' to 
 the '■ very few, hardly five or six, in whose hands the transition 
 state of the government left, fora season, unlimited influence," 
 
 When Mr. Ophtim published his Lecture* on this subject, ' 
 he was called upon by a writer in the public prints, to make i 
 good his charge against Cotton Mather, of having exerted him- 
 self to increase and extend the frenzy of the public mind. He 
 produced in reply, an original letter from Dr. Mather to 
 Stephen Sewall, of Salem, in which he manifests an oxcessive | 
 earnestness to prevent the excitement from subsiding. This 
 was written in September, after the summer which had wit- 
 nessed the executions in Salem, and contained an importunate , 
 request, that Mr. Sewall would furnish him with the evidence 
 given at the trials. " Imagine me as obdurate a Saddncee and 
 witch-advocate as any among us ; address me as one that believed 
 nothing reasonable; and when you have so knocked me down, 
 in a spectre so unlike me, you will enable me to box it about 
 among my neighbors till it come, I know not where at last." 
 Peabo'dy's Life. 249. Chandler Robbins, in his History of the 
 Second Church, or Old North in Boston, has taken an apologe- 
 tic view of these transactions, and exempted Mather from the 
 charge of conscious deception. "He may be called a fool for 
 bis credulity ; but he certainly cannot be called a knave for bis 
 
 The lesson, however, was not without profit to 
 hiin. "When a great humanitarian question, which 
 he was the first to introduce, afterwards came up, 
 in the year 1721, the new discovery of the inocu- 
 lation for the small -pox, and the superstitious 
 feeling of the day was opposed to it, Mather set 
 himself against the popular outcry on the side of 
 the reform.* It was in vain now that his op- 
 ponents brought up the diabolical agencies of the 
 new remedy. Mather had chosen the other side, 
 and the wicked suggestions of the spiritual world 
 were silenced. It was a noble position for a man 
 to hold, and he resolutely maintained it. Even 
 as all scandal touching the fair Lady Mary Wort- 
 ley Montagu is forgotten, when she is seen angeli- 
 cally bringing this protection for humanity from 
 Turkey to England, so may the bigotry and super- 
 stition of Mather be overlooked when, not wait- 
 ing for English precedents, he took upon himself 
 the introduction of this new remedy in America. 
 
 In many other respects, Mather's memory de- 
 serves to be held in esteem by the present genera- 
 tion. He carried about with him that indefatigable 
 sense of usefulness which we associate with the 
 popular memory of Franklin, whose character 
 doubtless he helped to mould. The philosopher 
 in his autobiography, acknowledges his obligations 
 to Dr. Mather, in a paragraph in which he asso- 
 ciates the Essays to do goooZvrith a book by De 
 Foe as " perhaps giving him a turn of thinking 
 that had an influence on some of the principal 
 future events of his life." He has left- another me- 
 morandum of this obligation in a letter to Samuel 
 Mather, from Passey, May 12, 1784:— "When 
 I was a boy, I met with a book, entitled ; Essays 
 to do Good, 1 which I think was written by your 
 father. It had been so little regarded by its 
 former possessor, that several leaves of it were 
 torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn 
 of thinking, as to have an influence ou my con- 
 duct through life. 3 1 
 
 cunning," p. 102. Quincy ha? handled Mather less mildly in 
 his History of Harv. t T niv. i. 346. 
 
 * An interesting and instructive history of the introduction 
 of inoculation into New England, will be found in Mr. W. B. 
 O. Peabody's Life of Cotton Mather, in volume iv. of Sparks's 
 American Biography. u The clergy, who were generally in 
 favor of inoculation,* supported it by arguments drawn from 
 medical science; while the physicians, who were as much 
 united against it, opposed it with arguments which were chiefly 
 theological, alleging that it was presumptuous in man to inflict 
 disease on man, that being the prerogative of the Most High." 
 Dr. Zabdiel Boylston stood alone in the faculty. He defended 
 inoculation by ids pen, and promoted it by his example. Br. 
 Douglass, a Scotchman, a physician of note in Boston, and 
 afterwards the author of "A Summary, Historical and Political, 
 of the British Settlements in North America," 1760, was an in- 
 dignant opponent. 
 
 + This letter also preserves an anecdote characteristic of 
 both parties — the theoretical Cotton Mather, and the practi- 
 cal Franklin. "You mention your being in your seventy- 
 eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old 
 together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston: 
 but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having 
 heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. 
 The last time I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724, 
 when 1 visited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania ; he 
 received me in his library, and on my taking leave, showed mo 
 a shorter way out of the hous^, through a narrow passage, 
 crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I with- 
 drew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly to- 
 wards him, when he said hastily, ' Stoop, stoop!' I did not 
 understand him, till 1 felt my head hit against the beam. Ho 
 was a man who never missed any occasion of giving instruc- 
 tion ; and upon this he said to me, 'You are young, and have 
 the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will 
 miss many hard thumps.' Tliis advice, thus beat into my 
 head, has frequently been of use to me : and I often think of 
 it, when I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought upon 
 people by their carrying their heads too high." 
 
62 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Mather was always exercising his ingenuity to 
 contribute something useful to the world. He 
 was one of the first to employ the press exten- 
 sively in the dissemination of tracts ; he early 
 lifted his voice in favor of temperance; he 
 preached and wrote for sailors ; he instructed ne- 
 groes ; he substituted moral and sagacious intellec- 
 tual restraints with his children for flogging;* con- 
 versation he studied and practised as an art ; and 
 he was a devoted historiographer of his country 
 for posterit}- — besides his paramount employment, 
 according to the full measure of his day and gene- 
 ration, of discharging the sacred duties of his 
 profession. Pity that any personal defects of 
 temperament or "follies of the wise" should 
 counterbalance these noble achievements — that 
 so well freighted a bark should at times experi- 
 ence the want of a rudder. Good sense was the 
 one stick occasionally missing from the enormous 
 faggot of Mather's studies and opinions. 
 
 The remark that Mather made of one of the 
 many opinionists of the times, whose notions did 
 not agree with his own, or whose nonsense, to 
 reverse the saying of Charles II. of Bishop Woolly 
 and the non-conformists, did not suit his non- 
 sense, that his brain was a windmill, may be 
 applied to himself. He was full of a restless, un- 
 easy mental action. He wrote history without 
 being an historian, and painted character without 
 being a biographer. But he had a great genius 
 for the odd and the fantastic. 
 
 One thing he never could attain, though he 
 nearly inherited it, though his learning almost 
 irresistibly challenged it, though he spiritually 
 anticipated it — the prize of the presidency of 
 Harvard College. One and another was chosen 
 in preference to him. The ghostly authority of 
 the old priestly influence was passing away. Cot- 
 ton Mather was, in age, a disheartened and dis- 
 appointed man. The possession, in turn, of three 
 wives had proved but a partial consolation. One 
 of his sons he felt compelled to disown ;t his 
 wife was subject to fits of temper bordering on 
 insanity ; the glooms of his own disposition grew 
 darker in age as death approached, a friend whom 
 he was glad to meet, when he expired, at the 
 completion of his sixty-fifth year, the 13th Feb- 
 ruary, 1728. His last emphatic charge to his son 
 Samuel was, " Remember only that one word, 
 ' Fructuosus.' " 
 
 It was a word which had never been forgotten 
 by himself — for his genius had indeed borne much 
 fruit. The catalogue of his printed works enu- 
 merated by his son Samuel, at the close of the life 
 
 * The kind and shrewd disposition of Mather in this parti- 
 cular is worthy of special mention. "He would have his 
 children account it a privilege to be taught; and would some- 
 times manage the matter so, that refusing to teach them some- 
 thing should be looked upon as a punishment. The strain of 
 his threatenings therefore was : you shall not be allowed to 
 read, or to write, or to learn such a thing, if you do not as I 
 have bidden you. The slavish way of education, carried on 
 with raving, and kicking, and scourging (in schools as well as 
 families) he looked upon as a dreadful judgment of God on the 
 world; he thought the practice abominable, and expressed a 
 mortal aversion to it." — Lije by Samuel Mather, p. 17. 
 
 t His Diary speaks of bis "miserable son, 1 ' and threatens "a 
 tremendous letter to my wicked son." Samuel Mather, his 
 brother, writes kindly of him ; — " The third son was Increase, 
 a young man, well beloved by all who knew him for his supe- 
 rior good nature and manners, his elegant wit and ready expres- 
 sions. He went to sea, and on his passage from Barbadoes to 
 Newfoundland was lost in the Atlantic. 1 — Life of Cotton Ma- 
 ther, p. 14. 
 
 of his father, which supplied us with so many 
 characteristic traits of the man,* numbers three 
 hundred and eighty-two, a Cottonian library in 
 itself, bearing date during more than forty years, 
 from 1686 to 1727.t As an ancient Roman Em- 
 peror took for his adage, " nulla dies sine linea," 
 so Cotton Mather may be said to have enlarged 
 the motto, " no year without a book," for in the 
 ripe period of his book productiveness, not a date 
 
 i is missing. These publications were, many of 
 
 ! them, light, and occasional tracts, single sermons, 
 and the like ; but there were many among them 
 of sufficient magnitude, and all were greatly con- 
 
 | densed. The famous sentence which he wrote in 
 capitals over his study door, as a warning to all 
 
 : tedious and impertinent visitors, " Be short," he 
 bore in mind himself for his own writings when 
 he approached that much enduring host, the pub- 
 
 j he. Books and reading were his delight : he was 
 
 i one of the old folio race of scholars, the gluttons 
 of ancient authors, transplanted to America. The 
 vigorous pedantic school which grew up under 
 the shade of Harvard, in those days, between the 
 
 i wilderness and the sea, was a remarkable feature 
 of the times. 
 
 Warmly writes poetical John Adams, of New- 
 port, of Mather's productiveness. 
 
 What numerous volumes scatter'J from his hand, 
 Lighten'd his own, and warm'd each foreign land? 
 What pious breathings of a glowing soul 
 Live in each page, and animate the whole? 
 The breath of heaven the savory pages show, 
 As we Arabia from its spices know. 
 The beauties of his style are careless strew'd, 
 And learning with a liberal hand bestow'd: 
 So, on the field of Heav'n, the seeds of fire 
 Thick-sown, but careless, all the wise admire.}: 
 
 In one of Mather's private thanksgivings, he 
 records his gratitude for the usual rewards of a 
 pastor's ministry, and adds as special items of hap- 
 piness, " my accomplishments in any points of 
 learning — my well furnished library." On ano- 
 ther occasion, he describes the culture of his 
 genius : " I am not unable, with a little study, to 
 write in seven languages : I feast myself with the 
 secrets of all the sciences which the more polite 
 
 * Life of the Very Reverend and learned Cotton Mather, D.D. 
 and F.R.S., late Pastor of the North Church, in Boston ; who 
 died Feb. 18, 1727-8, by Samuel Mather, M.A., Boston. Print- 
 ed for Samuel Gerrish, in Cornhill, 1729. 12mo. pp. 186. An 
 abridgment of this life was published in London, 1744, bv Da- 
 vid Jennings, at the suggestion of Dr. Watts, who speaks in 
 his " Recommendation" of his " happy Correspondence with 
 the Reverend Dr. Cotton Mather, for near twenty years before 
 his death : as well as with the Reverend Mr. Samuel Mather, 
 his son, ever since. I found much of his learned and pious 
 character very early, from the spirit of his Letters, and of his 
 public writings, which he favored me with every year." 
 
 t Large as this catalogue is, and carefully prepared by his 
 son, it does not include all Mather's publications. Extensive 
 collections of them may be found in the Library of the Ameri- 
 can Antiquarian Society at Worcester, which has aiso a Ma- 
 ther alcove of weather-beaten divinity in ragged black covers, 
 as if smoked by the fires of the Inquisition,— hardly one has a 
 label left — rich in such old time works as the " Chuicli Poli- 
 tics" of Voetius, the " Scholastical Divinity" of Henry Jcanes. 
 Bilson's "Christian Subjections," Sib'sPious Writings, relieved 
 by an old Latin volume of Henry More, of Erasmus, and a lew 
 broken sets of Roman poets. Books which once belonged to 
 grandfather, father, son, and grandson, Richard, Increase, Cot- 
 ton, and Samuel. There are fifty-two Cotton Mather items on 
 the catalogue of the Boston Athenaeum. The Mather MSS. are 
 chiefly in the archives of the Mass. Historical Society, and the 
 American Antiq. Society. 
 
 t On the Death of Dr. Cotton Mather, Poems, p. 85. 
 
COTTON MATHER. 
 
 63 
 
 part of mankind ordinarily pretend unto. I am 
 entertained with all kinds of histories, ancient and 
 modern. I am no stranger to the curiosities, 
 which by all sorts of learning are brought unto 
 the curious. These intellectual pleasures are far 
 beyond my sensual ones."* 
 
 The great work of Mather, to which many of 
 his writings are properly appendices, the Magno- 
 lia Christi Americana, is a monument of these 
 studies. In its plan it is a compound of quaint 
 English Dr. Thomas Fuller's Church History and 
 Worthies ; but in the execution, the wit and saga- 
 city of the American are not of so line an edge, 
 and the poetical fancy is missing. The book pur- 
 ports, on its title-page, to be The Ecclesiastical 
 History of New England, from its first Planting 
 in the year 1620, unto the year of our Lord 1698 ; 
 but includes also the civil history of the times, an 
 account of Harvard college, of the Indian wars, 
 of the witchcraft "troubles," together with the 
 lives of more than eighty individuals, celebrities 
 of church and state. By the year 1718 Mather 
 had published the lives of no less than one hun- 
 dred and fourteen men and twenty women, and 
 more, says his biographer, afterward 3 , " not to say 
 anything of the transient but honorable mention 
 many others have had in the doctor's tractates." 
 Character painting, in funeral sermons and eu- 
 logies, was one of the strong points of Mather's 
 genius, an exercise of amiability which the poet 
 Halleck has kindly remembered among the verses 
 in which he has so happily depicted the peculi- 
 arities of the man : 
 
 Genius! powerful with thy praise or blame, 
 When art tiiou feigning? when art thou sincere? 
 
 Mather, who banned his living friends with shame, 
 In funeral sermons blessed them on their bier, 
 
 And made their deathbeds beautiful with fame — 
 Fame true and gracious as a widow's tear 
 
 To her departed darling husband given ; 
 
 Him whom she scolded up from earth to heaven. 
 
 Thanks for his funeral sermons, they recall 
 
 The sunshine smiling through his folio's leaves, 
 
 That makes his readers' hours in bower or hall 
 Joyous as plighted hearts on bridal eves; 
 
 Chasing, like music from the soul of Saul, 
 
 The doubt that darkens, and the ill that grieves ; 
 
 And honoring the author's heart and mind, 
 
 That beats to bless, and toils to ennoble human kind, j 
 
 The Magnolia was printed in London, in folio, 
 in 1702, through the agency of a friend, Mr. Ro- 
 bert Hackshaw, who bore the expense as an act 
 of faith. It was not till 182fLHiat it was reprinted 
 in America, at Hartford. As an historical work 
 its incidental liglrts are more valuable than its 
 direct opinions; Kb credulity and prejudice are 
 unbounded, but they painfully exhibit the manage- 
 ment of the old ecclesiasticism of New England ; 
 for the rest, its vigorous oddity of expression is 
 amusing, and will long attract the curious reader. 
 Giving Mather every credit for sincerity, his judg- 
 ment appears sadly at fault : the mixture of high 
 intentions with low puerilities recalls to us the 
 exclamation of Coleridge upon perusing a book 
 
 * Life by Samuel Mather, p. 21. 
 
 t The whole of this characterization of Mather and the old 
 Puritan times iB admirable, balancing virtues and defects with 
 a poet's discrimination. It is from that quarry of the author's 
 portfolio, the " unpublished poem" Connecticut, 
 
 of the same school, John Reynolds's old folio of 
 God's Revenge against Murther, "Oh, wdiat a 
 beautiful concordia discordantium is an unthink- 
 ing, good-hearted man's soul." 
 
 The book of Mather's which is mentioned most 
 frequently after the Mogilalia, is the Chris- 
 tian Philosopher, a collection of Natural Theo- 
 logy instances and improvements, leaning upon 
 Boyle, Ray, Derham, and similar writers. Com- 
 mencing with light, the planets, and such pheno- 
 mena as snow, wind, cold, he travels through 
 the mineral, vegetable, and animal world, to man, 
 into whose anatomy he enters intimately. He 
 quotes for poetry " the incomparable Sir Richard 
 Blackmore," with whom he corresponded^ and 
 recognises " our ingenious Mr. Waller." The 
 natural history is sometimes of the simplest, and 
 the moral improvements are overdone. His pro- 
 totype, Boyle, in his Occasional Reflections on 
 Several Subjects, had carried a good thing so far 
 as to excite the humor of Swift, who wrote his 
 Pious Meditation on a Broomstick, in parody of 
 his style. Mather adopts the popular credulities 
 touching the victim of the bite of the tarantula, 
 and narrates them with great emotion; and he 
 tells us, out of Beccone, that men, if need requires, 
 may suckle infants from their breasts. His love 
 for the curiosities of reading will carry him any- 
 where for an example. Thus he remarks, " What 
 a sympathy between the feet and the bowels ! the 
 priests walking barefoot on the pavement of the 
 temple, were often afflicted, as the Talmuds tell 
 us, with diseases in the bowels. The physician 
 of the temple was called a bowel doctor. Belly- 
 aches, occasioned by walking on a cold floor, are 
 cured by applying hot bricks to the soles of the 
 feet." There is, however, an obvious good inten- 
 tion to be useful and devout everywhere. 
 
 The Essays to do Good, an abridgment of 
 which has been in popular circulation with " im- 
 provements " by George Bnrder, the author of the 
 " Village Sermons," may be best described by 
 their original title, in the publication of 1710, 
 " Bonifacius ; an Essay upon the Good, that is 
 to be devised and designed, by those who desire 
 to answer the Great End of Life, and to do Good 
 while they live. A Book offered, first, in Gene- 
 ral, unto all Christians, in a Personal Capacity, or 
 in a relative: Then more particularly unto Magis- 
 trates, Ministers, Physicians, Lawyers, School- 
 masters, Gentlemen, Officers, Churches, and unto 
 all Societies of a religious character and intention: 
 with humble Proposals of unexceptionable me- 
 thods to Do Good in the world." The treatment 
 is ingenious, and the design affords a model for a 
 wider treatment with reference, to all the promi- 
 nent arts and pursuits of life. 
 
 Mather, too, sometimes, like so many of the 
 worthies he celebrated, tried his hand upon 
 poetry. Whether Minerva was willing or not, 
 the verses must be produced. He has the gift of 
 Ilolofernes for "smelling out the. odoriferous flow- 
 ers of fancy, the jerks of invention." But the 
 puns and quibs which he has for others take a 
 more natural form when he writes his own sor- 
 rows on the death of his son and daughter. 
 
 The Psalterium Amcrieanwn, published in 
 1718, was an attempt to improve the careless 
 version of the Psalms then current, by a translation 
 exactly conformed to the original, and written in 
 
64 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 blank verse. Mr. Hood, in his History of Music, 
 speaks of the work with respect. To the transla- 
 tions were appended brief devotional and learned 
 comments, or, as the author more pointedly chal- 
 lenges attention to them — " Eveiy Psalm is here 
 satellited with illustrations, which are not fetched 
 from the vulgar annotations, but are the more 
 fine, deep, and uncommon thoughts, which in a 
 course of long reading and thinking have been 
 brought in the way of the collector. They are 
 golden keys to immense treasures of Truth." 
 Verily, Mather understood well the learned trick 
 of displaying Lis literary wares.* 
 
 This literal translation, " without any jingle of 
 words at the end," is printed by Mather in the 
 several metres, separated from prose by rules set 
 upright in the solid paragraph. We quote one of 
 them, restored to the form of poetry : — 
 
 PSALM c. 
 
 Now unto the eternal God 
 Make you the joyful shouts 
 Which are heard in a jubilee, 
 All ye who dwell on earth. 
 
 Yield service with a shining jcy 
 To the eternal God; 
 With joyful acclamations come 
 Ye in before His face. 
 
 Know that th' eternal God, He's God, 
 He made us, and we're His ; 
 We are His people, and we are 
 The sheep which He does feed. 
 
 With due confessions enter ye 
 His gates, His courts with praise ; 
 Make due confessions unto Him ; 
 Speak ye well of His name. 
 
 For the eternal God is good ; 
 His mercy is forever; 
 And unto generations doth 
 His faithfulness endure. 
 
 An immense unpublished MS. of Mather, his 
 Illustrations of the Sacred Scriptures, is stored 
 in ' the library of the Massachusetts Historical 
 Society, where it is shown in six volumes folio, 
 of rough-edged whity-brown foolscap, written in 
 the author's round, exact hand, in double columns; 
 its magnitude and forgotten theology bidding de- 
 fiance to the enterprise of editors and publisher*. 
 Portions of his Diary, a painful psychological 
 curiosity, are also to be found there, including the 
 torn leaf from which the invisible hand of witch- 
 craft plucked a piece, according to his declaration, 
 before his eyes. 
 
 AN nOfiTATOEY AND NECESSARY ADDRESS, TO A COUNTRY NOW 
 EXTRAORDINARILY ALARM'D EY THE WRATH OP TIIE DEVIL. 
 — PROM TIIE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE "WORLD. 
 
 That the Devil is come down unto us with great 
 wrath, we find, we feel, we now deplore. In man}' 
 wa3's, for many years, haih the Devil been assaying 
 to extirpate the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus here. 
 New England may complain of the Devil, as in 
 Psalm exxix. 1, 2 : Many a time have they afflictcdme, 
 from my youth, may New England now say ; many a 
 time have they afflicted me from my youth ; yet they 
 
 * Some of his title-pages are exquisite. Brontologia Sacra 
 is the name lie gives to a few sermons on remarkable thunder- 
 storms. The titles of several of these occasional publications 
 are, A T ails Fastened, or Proposals of Piety ; Adversus Liber- 
 tinas ; An Essay on Evanydival Ohediencc. ; T/ieopolis Ame- 
 ricana, An Essay on the Golden Street of Vie Holy City, 
 
 have not prevailed against me. But now there is a 
 more than ordinary affliction, with which the Ijevil 
 is Galling of us: and such an one as is indeed Un- 
 parallelable. The things confessed by Witches, and 
 the things endured by Others, laid together, amount 
 unto this account of our Affliction. The Devil, Ex- 
 hibiting himself ordinarily as a small Black man, 
 has decoy'd a fearful ki.ot of proud, forward, igno- 
 rant, envious, and malicious creatures, to list them- 
 selves in his horrid Service, by entring their Names 
 in a Book, by him tendered unto them. These 
 Witches, whereof above a Score have now Con- 
 fessed, and shown their Deeds, and some are now 
 tormented by the Devils, for Confessing, have met 
 in Hellish Rendezvous, wherein the Confessors do 
 say, they have had their diabolical Sacraments, 
 imitating the Baptism and the Supper of our Lord. 
 In these hellish meetings, these Monsters have asso- 
 ciated themselves to do no less a thing than, To de- 
 stroy the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, in these 
 parts of the World; and in order hereunto, First 
 they each of them have their Spectres, or Devils, 
 commissioned by them and representing of them, to 
 be the Engines of their Malice. By these wicked 
 Spectres, they seize poor people about the country, 
 with various and bloody Torments.; and of those 
 evidently Preternatural torments there are some 
 have dy'd. They have bewitched some, even so far 
 as to make Self destroyers : and others are in many 
 Towns here and there languishing under their Evil 
 hands. The people thus afflicted, are miserably 
 scratched, and bitten, so that the Marks are most 
 visible to all the World, but the causes utterly 
 invisible; and the same Invisible Furies do most 
 visibly stick Pins into the bodies of the Afflicted, 
 and scale them, and hideously distort, and disjoint 
 all their members, besides a thousand other sorts of 
 Plague, beyond these of any natural diseases which 
 they give unto them. Yea, they sometimes drag 
 the poor people out of their chambers, and carry 
 them over Trees and Hills, for divers miles together. 
 A large part of the persons tortured by these Dia- 
 bolical Spectres, are horribly tempted by them, 
 sometimes with fair promises, and sometimes with 
 hard threatenings, but always with felt miseries, to 
 sign the Devil's Laivs in a Spectral Book laid before 
 them ; which two or three of these poor Sufferers, 
 being by their tiresome sufferirgs overcome to do, 
 they have immediately been released from all their 
 miseries, and they appeared in Spectre then to Tor- 
 ture those that were before their fellow-sufferers. 
 The Witches, which by their covenant with the 
 Devil are become Owners of Spectres, are often- 
 times by their own Spectres required and compelled 
 to give their consent, for the molestation of some, 
 which they had no mind otherwise to fall upon: and 
 cruel depredations are then made upon the Vicinage. 
 In the Prosecution of these Witchcrafts, among a 
 thousand other unaccountable things, the Spectres 
 have an odd faculty of cloatliing the most substan- 
 tial and corporeal Instruments of Torture, with In- 
 visibility, while the wounds thereby given have 
 been the most palpable things in the World; so that 
 the Sufferers assaulted with Instruments of Iron, 
 wholly unseen to the standers by, though, to their 
 cost, seen by themselves, have, upon snatching, 
 wrested the Instruments out of the Spectre's hands, 
 and every one has then immediately not only beheld, 
 but handled, an Iron Instrument taken by a Devil 
 from a Neighbor. These wicked Spectres have pro- 
 ceeded so far, as to steal several quantities of Monev 
 from divers people, part of which Money has, before 
 sufficient Spectators, been dropt out of the Air into 
 the Hands of the Sufferers, while the Spectres have 
 been urging them to subscribe their Covenant with 
 
COTTON MATHER. 
 
 65 
 
 Death. In such extravagant ways have these 
 Wretches propounded, the Dragooning of as many 
 as they can, into their own Combination, and the 
 .Destroying of others, with lingring, spreading, 
 deadly diseases; till our Country should at last be- 
 come too hot for us. Among the Ghastly Instances 
 of the success which those Bloody Witches have had, 
 we have seen even some of their own Children, so 
 dedicated unto the Devil, that in their Infancy, it is 
 found, the Imps have sucked them, and rendered 
 them Venomous to a Prodigy. We have also seen 
 the Devil's first battries upon the Town where the 
 first Church of our Lord in this Colony was gathered, 
 producing those distractions, which have almost 
 ruin'd the Town. We have seen, likewise, the 
 Plague reaching afterwards into the Towns far and 
 near, where the Houses of good Men have the 
 Devils filling of them with terrible vexations! 
 
 This is the descent, which, it seems, the devil has 
 now made upon us. But that which makes this 
 descent the more formidable, is, The Multitude and 
 quality of Persons accused of an interest in this 
 Witchcraft, by the Efficacy of the Spectres which 
 take their name and shape upon them; causing 
 very many good and wise men to fear, that many 
 innocent, yea, and some virtuous persons, are, by the 
 devils in this matter, imposed upon ; that the devils 
 have obtain'd the power to take on them tlie like- 
 ness of harmless people, and in that likeness to afflict 
 other people, and be so abused by Prestigious 
 Dasmoas, that upon their look or touch, the afflicted 
 shall be oddly affected. Arguments from the Pro- 
 vidence of God, o.i the one side, and from our 
 charity towards man on the other side, have made 
 this now to become a most agitated Co.itroversie 
 among us. There is an Agony produced in the 
 Minds of Men, lest the Devil should sham us with 
 Devices, of perhaps a finer Thread, than was ever 
 yet practised upon the World. The whole business 
 is become hereupon so Snarled, and the determina- 
 tion of the Question one way or another, so dismal, 
 that our Honourable Judges have a Room for Jeho- 
 saphat's Exclamation, We know not what to do I 
 They have used, as Judges have heretofore done, 
 the Spectral Evidences, to introduce their further 
 Enquiries into the Lives of the persons accused ; 
 and they have thereupon, by the wonderful Provi- 
 dence of God, been so strengthened with other 
 evidences, that some of the Witch Gang have been 
 fairly Executed. But what shall be done, as to 
 those against whom the evidence is chiefly founded 
 in the dark world? Here they do solemnly demand 
 our Addresses to the Father of Lights, on their be- 
 half. But in the mean time, the Devil improves the \ 
 Darkness of this Affair, to push us into a Blind 
 Man's Buffet, and we are even ready to be sinfully, 
 yea, hotly and madly, mauling one another in the 
 dark. 
 
 THE TARANTULA. — FROM TnE "cniUSTTAN PHILOSOPHER." 
 
 What amazing effects follow on the bite of the 
 tarantula! the patient is taken with an extreme dif- 
 ficulty of breathing, and heavy anguish of heart, a 
 dismal sadness of mind, a voice querulous and sor- 
 rowful, and his eyes very much disturbed. When 
 the violent symptoms which appear on the first day 
 are over, a continual melancholy hangs about the 
 person, till by dancing or singing, or change of air, 
 the poisonous impressions are extirpated from the 
 blood, and the fluid of the nerves ; but this is a 
 happiness that rarely happens; nay, Baglivi, this 
 wicked spider's countryman, says, there is no expec- 
 tation of ever being perfectly cured. Many of the 
 poisoned are never well but among the graves, and 
 in solitary places ; and they lay themselves along 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
 upon a bier as if they themselves were dead : like 
 people in despair, they will throw themselves into 
 a pit ; women, otherwise chaste enough, cast away 
 all modesty, and throw themselves into efery in- 
 decent posture. There are some colours agreeable 
 to them, others offensive, especially black ; and if 
 the attendants have their clothes of ungrateful 
 colours, they must retire out of their sight. The 
 music with the dancing which must be employed 
 for their cure, continues three or four days; in this 
 vigorous exercise they sigh, they are full of com- 
 plaints ; like persons in drink, they almost lose the 
 right use of their understanding ; they distinguish 
 not their very parents from others in their treating 
 of them, and scarce remember any thing that is 
 past. Some during this exercise are much pleased 
 with green boughs of reeds or vines, and wave them 
 with their hands in the air, or dip them in the 
 water, or bind them about their face or neck ; others 
 love to handle red cloths or naked swords. And 
 there are those who, upon a little intermission of 
 the dancing, fall a digging of holes in the ground, 
 which they fill with water, and then take a strange 
 satisfaction in rolling there. When they begin to 
 dance, they call for swords and aet like fencers ; 
 sometimes they are for a looking-glass, but then 
 they fetch many a deep sigh at beholding them- 
 selves. Their fancy sometimes leads them to rich 
 clothes, to necklaces, to fineries and a variety of 
 ornaments ; and they are highly courteous to the 
 bystanders that will gratify them with any of these 
 things ; they lay them very orderly about the place 
 where the exercise is pursued, and in dancing please 
 themselves with one or other of these things by 
 turns, as their troubled imagination directs them. 
 
 How miserable would be the condition of man- 
 kind, if these animals were common in every 
 country ! But our compassionate God has confined 
 them to one little corner of Italy ; they are exist- 
 ing elsewhere, but nowhere thus venomous, except 
 in Apulia. My God, I glorify thy compassion to 
 sinful mankind, in thy restraints upon the poisons 
 of the tarantula. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. RALPH PARTRIDGE — FROM THE " MAGNALIA." 
 
 When David was driven from his friends into the 
 wilderness, he made this pathetical representation 
 of his condition, " 'Twas as when one doth hunt a 
 partridge in the mountains." Among the many wor- 
 thy persons who were persecuted into an American 
 wilderness, for their fidelity to the ecclesiastical king- 
 dom of our true David, there was one that bore the 
 name as well as the state of an hunted partridge. 
 What befel hirn, was, as Bede saith of what was 
 done by Fselix, Juxta nominis sui Sacramentum. 
 
 This was Mr. Ralph Partridge, who for no fault 
 but the delicacy of his good spirit, being distressed 
 by the ecclesiastical setters, had no defence, neither 
 of beak nor clam, but a fight over the ocean. 
 
 The place where he took covert was the colony of 
 Plymouth, and the town of Duxbury in that colony. 
 
 This Partridge had not only the iunocency of the 
 dove, conspicuous in his blameless and pious life, 
 which made him very acceptable in his conversation, 
 but also the loftiness of an eagle, in the great soar of 
 his intellectual abilities. There are some interpret- 
 ers who, understanding church officers by the living 
 creatures, in the fourth chapter of the Apocalypse, 
 will have the teacher to be intended by the eagle 
 there, for his quick insight into remote and hidden 
 tilings. The church of Duxbury had such an eagle 
 in their Partridge, when they enjoyed such a teacher. 
 
 By the same token, when the Platform of Church 
 Discipline was to be composed, the Synod at Cam- 
 bridge appointed three persons to draw up each of 
 
66 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 them, " a model of church-government, according to 
 the word of God," unto the end that out of those the 
 synod might form -what should be found most agree- 
 able ; which three persons were Mr. Cotton, and Mr. 
 Mather, and Mr. Partridge. So that, in the opinion 
 of that reverend assembly, this person did not come 
 far behind the first two for some of his accomplish- 
 ments. 
 
 After he had been forty years a faithful and pain- 
 ful preacher of the gospel, rarely, if ever, in all that 
 while interrupted in his work by any bodily sick- 
 ness, he died in a good old age, about the year 1G58. 
 
 There was one singular instance of a wearied spirit, 
 whereby he signalized himself unto the churches of 
 God. That was this : there was a time when most 
 of the ministers in the colony of Plymouth left the 
 colony, upon the discouragement which the want of 
 a competent maintenance among the needy and fro- 
 ward inhabitants gave unto tliem. Nevertheless 
 Mr. Partridge was, notwithstanding the paucity and 
 the poverty of his congregation, so afraid of being 
 anything that looked like a bird wandering from his 
 nest, that he remained with his poor people till he 
 took wing to become a bird of paradise, along with 
 the winged seraphim of heaven. 
 
 EPITAPHIUM. 
 
 Avolavit. 
 
 MINISTRY OF ANGELS — FROM " C(ELESTTNU8." 
 
 "When the Angel of the Lord encamps round about 
 those that fear Him, the next news is, They that 
 seek the Lord shall want nothing that is good for 
 them. O servant of God, art thou afraid of wants, 
 of straits, of difficulties? The angels who poured 
 down at least 250,000 bushels of manna day by day 
 unto the followers of God in the wilderness; the 
 angel that brought meat unto the Prophet; the 
 angel that showed Hagar and her son how to supply 
 themselves; who can tell what services they may do 
 for thee ! Art thou in danger by sicknesses ? The 
 angel who strengthened the feeble Daniel, the angel 
 who impregnated the waters of Bethesda with such 
 sanative and balsamic virtues; who can tell what 
 services they may do for thee ! Art thou iu danger 
 from enemies? The angel who rescued Jacob from 
 Laban and from Esau ; the angel who fetched Peter 
 out of prison, who can tell what services they may 
 do for thee 1 The angels which directed the Patri- 
 arch in his journeys, may give a direction to thy 
 steps, when thou art at a loss how to steer. The 
 angels who moved the Philistines to dismiss David ; 
 the angels who carried Lot out of Sodom ; the angels 
 who would not let the lions fall upon Daniel, they 
 are still ready to do as much for thee, when God 
 thy Saviour shall see it seasonable. And who can 
 tell what services the angels of God may do for the 
 servants of God, when their dying hour is coming 
 upon them; then to make their bed for them, then 
 to make all things easy to them. When we are 
 in our agonies, then for an angel to come and 
 strengthen us ! 
 
 The holy angels, who have stood by us all our 
 life, will not forsake us at our death. It was the 
 last word of a Divine, dying in this, but famous in 
 other countries ; O you holy angels, come, do your 
 office. 'Tis a blessed office, indeed, which our Sa- 
 viour sends his holy angels to do for us in a dying 
 hour. At our dissolution they will attend us, they 
 will befriend us, they will receive us, they will do 
 inconceivable things as a oonvoy for us, to set us 
 before the presence of our Saviour with exceeding 
 joy. believer, why art thou so afraid of dying? 
 What! afraid of coming into the loving and the 
 lovely hands of the holy angels I Afraid of going 
 
 from the caverns of the earth, which are full of bru- 
 tish people, and where thy moan was, My soul is 
 among lions, and I lie among them that are set on 
 fire, even among the sons of men ; and afraid of going 
 to dwell among those amiable spirits, who have 
 rejoiced in all the good they ever saw done unto 
 thee ; who have rejoiced in being sent by thy God 
 and theirs, times without number, to do good unto 
 thee ; who have rejoiced in the hopes of having thee 
 to be with them, and now have what they hoped for 
 by having thee associated with them in the satisfac- 
 tions of the heavenly world! Certainly, thou wilt 
 not be afraid of going to those, whom thou hast 
 already had so sweet a conversation with. 
 
 It was a good Memento written on the door of 
 a study that had much of Heaven in it: Angeli 
 Astant; there are Holy Angels at hand. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF nIS SON. 
 
 on his gravestone, " Reserved for a glori- 
 ous Resurrection." 
 
 The exhortation of the Lord, 
 
 With consolation speaks to us, 
 As to his children his good word, 
 
 We must remember speaking thus : 
 
 My child, when God shall chasten thee, 
 His chastening do thou not contemn : 
 
 When thou his just rebukes dost see, 
 Faint not rebuked under them. 
 
 The Lord with fit afflictions will 
 
 Correct the children of his love ; 
 He doth himself their father still, 
 
 By his most wise corrections prove. 
 
 Afflictions for the present here, 
 
 The vexed flesh "will grievous call, 
 But afterwards there will appear, 
 
 Not grief, but peace, the end of alL 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF mS DAUGHTER. 
 
 The motto inscribed on her gravestone, " Gone, but not lost" 
 The dearest Lord of heaven gave 
 
 Himself an offering once for me : 
 The dearest thing on earth I have, 
 Now, Lord, I'll offer unto Thee. 
 
 I see my best enjoyments here, 
 
 Are loans, and flowers, and vanitie" ■ 
 
 Ere well enjoyed they disappear: 
 
 Vain smoke, they prick and leave our eyes. 
 
 But I believe, glorious Lord, 
 
 That when I seem to lose these toys, 
 
 What's lost will fully be restored 
 In glory, with eternal joys. 
 
 I do believe, that I and mine, 
 
 Shall come to everlasting rest; 
 Because, blest Jesus, we are thine, 
 
 And with thy promises are blest. 
 
 I do believe, that every bird 
 
 Of mine, which to the ground shall fall, 
 Does fall at thy kind will and word ; 
 
 Nor I, nor it, is hurt at all. 
 
 Now my believing soul does hear, 
 
 This among the glad angels told: 
 I know thou dost thy Maker fear, 
 
 From whom thou nothing dost withhold ! 
 
 BENJAMIN TOMPSON". 
 
 Benjamin Tompson, "learned schoolmaster and 
 physician, and y" renowned poet of New Eng- 
 land," according to the eulogistic language of his 
 tombstone, was born in 1640, and graduated at 
 Harvard in 1662. He was master of the public 
 
BENJAMIN TOMPSON. 
 
 67 
 
 school in Boston from 1667 to 1670, when he 
 received a call and removed to Cambridge. He 
 died April 13, 1714, and is buried at Roxbury .* 
 
 He was the author of an Elegy on the Rev. 
 Samuel Whiting of Lynn, who died December 
 11, 1679, which is printed in the Hagnalia. He 
 also figures in the same volume among the rhym- 
 ing eulogists at its commencement, where he turns 
 a compliment with some skill. 
 Quod patrios Manes revoensti a sedibus nltis, 
 Sylvestres Mubsb grates, Matuere, rependunt. 
 Haee nova Progenies, veterum sub Imagine, coelo 
 Arte tua terrain visitans, demissa, salutat. 
 Grata Deo pietas; grates persolvimus onines; 
 Semper honos, uomenque luum, Matheee, manebunt. 
 
 Is the bless'd Mather necromancer turn'd, 
 To raise His country's fatliers' ashes urn'd? 
 Elisha's dust, life to the dead imparts ; 
 This prophet, by his more familiar arts, 
 Unseals our heroes' tombs, and gives them air ; 
 They rise, they walk, they talk, look wondrous fair ; 
 Each of them in an oi'b of light doth shine, 
 In liveries of glory most divine. 
 When ancient names I in thy pages met, 
 Like gems on Aaron's costly breastplate set, 
 Methinks heaven's open, while great saints descend, 
 To wreathe the brows by which their acts were 
 penn'd. 
 
 His chief production is a poem entitled New Eng- 
 land's Crisis. The piece, after an eulogy on certain 
 patriotic women, who turned out to build a wall 
 for the defence of the town, gives a comparison 
 between old times and new in the colony, in which 
 he assigns the palm, as usual in such discussiotS, 
 at least in poetry, to the days gone by ; and then 
 passes to King Philip's war, with which the re- 
 mainder is occupied. 
 
 ON A FOETTFICATION AT BOSTON BEGUN BT WOltEN. 
 
 Dux fomvina fatdi, 
 
 A grand attempt some Amazonian Dames 
 Contrive whereby to glorify their names, 
 A ruff for Boston Neck of mud and turfe, 
 Reaching from side to side, from surf to surf, 
 Their nimble hands spin up like Christmas pyes, 
 Their pastry by degrees on high doth rise. 
 The wheel at home counts in an holiday, 
 Since while the mistress worketh it may play. 
 A tribe of female hands, but manly hearts, 
 Forsake at home their pasty crust and tarts, 
 To knead the dirt, the samplers down they hurl, 
 Their undulating silks they closely furl. 
 The piek-axe one as a commandress holds, 
 While t'other at her awk'ness gently scolds. 
 One puffs and sweats, the other mutters why 
 Cant you promove your work so fast as I ? 
 Some dig, some delve, and others' hands do feel 
 The little waggon's weight with single wheel. 
 And least some fainting-fits the weak surprize, 
 They want no sack nor cakes, they are more wise. 
 These brave essays draw forth male, stronger hands, 
 More like to dawbers than to marshal bands ; 
 These do the work, and sturdy bulwarks raise, 
 But the beginners well deserve the praise. 
 
 THE PEOLOGTTE. 
 
 The times wherein old Pompion was a saint, 
 When men fared hardly yet without complaint, 
 On vilest cntes; the dainty Indian maize 
 Was eat with clamp-shells out of wooden trays, 
 
 * Kettell's Specimens of American Poetry, Vol. i. xxxvii. 
 
 Under thatch'd hurts without the cry of rent, 
 And the best sawce to every dish, content. 
 When flesh was food and hairy skins made coats, 
 And men as well as birds had chirping notes. 
 When Cimnels were aceouuted noble bloud; 
 Among the tribes of common herbage food. 
 Of Ceres' bounty form'd was many a knack, 
 Enough to fill poor Robin's Almanack. 
 These golden times (too fortunate to hold,) 
 Were quickly sin'd away for love of gold. 
 T was then among the bushes, not the street, 
 If one in place did an inferior meet, 
 " Good morrow, brother, is there aught you want? 
 " Take freely of me, what I have you ha'nt." 
 Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now. 
 As ever since " Your Servant Sir," and bow. 
 Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes, 
 Which now would render men like upright apes, 
 Was comlier wear, our wiser fathers thought, 
 Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought, 
 'T was in those days an honest grace would hold 
 Till an hot pudding grew at heart a cold. 
 And men had better stomachs at religion, 
 Than I to capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon ; 
 When honest sisters met to pray, not prate, 
 About their own and not their neighbour's state. 
 During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy stud 
 Of the ancient planters' race before the flood, 
 Then times were good, merchants car'd not a rush 
 For'other fare than Jonakin and Mush. 
 Although men far'd and lodged very hard, 
 Yet innocence was better than a guard. 
 'T was long before spiders and worms had drawn 
 Their dungy webs, or hid with cheating lawne 
 New England's beautyes, which still seem'd to me 
 Illustrious in their own simplicity. 
 'T was ere the neighbouring Virgin-Land had broke 
 The hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoak. 
 'T was ere the Islands sent their presents in, 
 Which but to use was counted next to sin. 
 'T was ere a barge had made so rich a freight 
 As chocolate, dust-gold and bitts of eight. 
 Ere wines from France and Muscovadoe to, 
 Without the which the drink will scarsly doe. 
 From western isles ere fruits and delicacies 
 Did rot maids' teeth and spoil their handsome faces. 
 Or ere these times did chance, the noise of war 
 Was from our towns and hearts removed far. 
 No bugbear comets in the chrystal air 
 Did drive our christian planters to despair. 
 No sooner pagan malice peeped forth 
 But valour snib'd it. Then were men of worth 
 Who by their prayers slew thousands, angel-like; 
 Their weapons are unseen with which they strike. 
 Then had the churches rest ; as yet the coales 
 Were covered up in most contentious souls: 
 Freeness in judgment, union in affection, 
 Dear love, sound truth, they were our grand pro- 
 tection. 
 Then were the times in which our councells sate. 
 These gave prognosticks of our future fate. 
 If these be longer liv'd our hopes increase, 
 These warrs will usher in a longer peace. 
 But if New England's love die in its youth, 
 The grave will open next for blessed truth. 
 This theame is out of date, the peacefull hours 
 When castles needed not, but pleasant bowers. 
 Not ink, but bloud and tears now serve the turn 
 To draw the figure of New England's urne. 
 New England's hour of passion is at hand; 
 No power except divine can it withstand. 
 Scarce hath her glass of fifty years run out, 
 But her old prosperous steeds turn heads about. 
 Tracking themselves back to their poor beginnings, 
 To fear and fare upon their fruits of sinnings. 
 
6S 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 So that the mirror of the christian world 
 Lyes burnt to heaps in part, her streamers furl'd. 
 Grief sighs, joyes flee, and dismal fears surprize 
 Not dastard spirits only, but the wise. 
 Thus have the fairest hopes deceiv'd the eye 
 Of the big-swoln expectant standing by : 
 Thus the proud ship after a little turn, 
 Sinks into Neptune's arms to find its urne: 
 Thus hath the heir to many thousands born 
 Been in an instant from the mother torn : 
 Even thus thine infant checks begin to pale, 
 And thy supporters through great losses fail. 
 This is the Prologue to thy future woe, 
 The Epilogue no mortal yet can know. 
 
 OUE FOREFATHERS' SONG. 
 This song is stated in the Massachusetts Histo- 
 rical Collections to have been " taken memoriter, 
 in 1785, from the lips of an old lady at the 
 advanced period of 96." It is also found in the 
 Massachusetts Magazine for January, 1791. Botli 
 copies are identical. It is of an early date, and 
 has been carried back to the year 1630. Four 
 lines in the stanza before the last appear missing. 
 
 New England's annoyances you that would know 
 
 them, 
 Pray ponder these verses which briefly doth shew 
 
 them. 
 The place where we live is a wilderness wood, 
 Where grass is much wanting that's fruitful and 
 
 good: 
 Our mountains and hills and our vallies below, 
 Being commonly covered with ice and with snow ; 
 And when the north-west wind with violence blows, 
 Then every man pulls his cap over his nose : 
 But if any's so hardy and will it withstand, 
 He forfeits a finger, a foot or a hand. 
 
 But when the Spring opens we then take the hoe, 
 And make the ground ready to plant and to sow ; 
 Our corn being planted and seed being sown, 
 The worms destroy much before it is grown ; 
 And when it is growing some spoil there is made, 
 By birds and by squirrels that pluck up the blade ; 
 And when it is come to full corn in the ear, 
 It is often destroyed by raccoon and by deer. 
 
 And now our garments begin to grow thin, 
 And wool is much wanted to card and to spin ; 
 If we can get a garment to cover without, 
 Our other in-garments are clout upon clout : 
 Our clothes we brought with us are apt to be torn, 
 They need to be clouted soon after they're worn, 
 But clouting our garments they hinder us nothing, 
 Clouts double, are warmer than single whole cloth- 
 ing. 
 
 If fresh meat be wanting, to fill up our dish, 
 
 We have carrots and turnips as much as we wish ; 
 
 And is there a mind for a delicate dish 
 
 We repair to the clam-banks, and there we catch 
 
 fish. 
 Instead of pottage and puddings, and custards and 
 
 pies, 
 Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies ; 
 We have pumpkins at morning, and pumpkins at 
 
 noon, 
 If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone. 
 
 If barley be wanting to make into malt. 
 We must be contented, and think it no fault ; 
 For we can make liquor to sweeten our lips, 
 Of pumpkins and parsnips ana walnut tree chips. 
 
 Now while some are going let others be coming, 
 For while liquor's boiling it must have a scumming; 
 But I will not blame them, for birds of a feather, 
 By seeking their fellows are flocking together. 
 But you whom the Lord intends hither to bring, 
 Forsake not the honey for fear of the sting ; 
 But bring both a quiet and contented mind, 
 And all needful blessings you surely will find. 
 
 THOMAS MAKIN. 
 
 Thomas Makin was the author of two Latin 
 poems addressed to James Logan, and found 
 among his papers after his death ; they are entitled, 
 Encomium Pennsylvania!, and In laudcs Pennsyl- 
 vania poema, seu descriptio Pennsylvania?, and 
 bear date in 1728 and 1729. The second is 
 " principally retained," as he phrases it, by Robert 
 Proud, who adds an English translation by him- 
 self, in his History of Pennsylvania. Makin 
 was an usher under George Keith,* in 1689, in 
 the Friends' Public Grammar School in Philadel- 
 phia, and succeeded him as principal in the follow- 
 ing year. He was frequently chosen clerk of the 
 Provincial Assembly, but his school not proving 
 productive, he removed to the interior.f His 
 verses describing the features of town and coun- 
 try appear to have been written for amusement, 
 and belong to the curiosities of literature. We 
 give a brief passage of both the rural and city 
 descriptions. 
 
 Hie avis est quaedam dulci celeberrima voce, 
 Qua; variare sonos usque canendo solet. 
 
 Hie avis est qusedam minima et pulcherrima pluinis, 
 Sugere qua; fiores usque volando solet. 
 
 Laide fugam muscaj in morem properare videtur, 
 Tanquam non oculis aspicienda diu. 
 
 Hie avis est qua;dam rubro formosa colore, 
 
 Gutture qua; pluinis est maculata nigris. 
 Hie avis est repeteus, Whip, Whip, Will, voce jocosu ; 
 
 Qua; tota verno tempore nocte canit. 
 Hie et aves alia;, quotquot generantur ab ovis, 
 
 Scribere jam quarmn nomina inane foret, 
 Innumera; volitare solent hie sa;pe columba; ; 
 
 Unde frequens multis obvia piseda datur. 
 
 Hie testate solet tanquam ttere gaudeat alto, 
 Tollere se ex summis ssepe acipenser aquis. 
 
 Qui salit ac resilit toties (mirabile visu) 
 In cymbas ingens pra;da aliquando cadit. 
 
 P.egius hie piseis miuime pretiosus habetur ; 
 Karior est at ubi, carior est et ibi. 
 
 'Tis here the mocking bird extends his throat, 
 And imitates the birds of ev'ry note ; 
 'Tis here the smallest of the feather'd train. 
 The humming bird, frequents the flow'ry plain. 
 
 * George Keith, celebrated both as an advocate and opponent 
 of the Quakers, was born in Aberdeen, and came to East 
 Jersey in 16S2, where be was appointed surveyor-general. He 
 was. as we have seen, at the bead of a school in Philadelphia 
 in 16S9. In 1691, after having made a propagandist tour in 
 New England, he left the sect with a few followers, tho 
 eeceders calling themselves Christian Quakers. He not long 
 after took orders in the Church of England, officiated about ii 
 year in New York and Boston, and travelled through the 
 settlements as a missionary. He returned to England in 17(;6, 
 and passed the remainder of his life as rector of Edburton in 
 Sussex. He published in 1706 a Journal of Travels from New 
 Hampshire to Caratuck, which was reprinted in 1S52 by the 
 Protestant Episcopal Historical Society, in the first volume of 
 their Collections, and a number of controversial works, which 
 were not deficient in energy. 
 
 + Proud's History, ii. 861. Some Account of the Early Poets 
 and Poetry of Pennsylvania, by Joshua Francis Fisher. Penn. 
 Hist. Soc. Coll., vol. h., pt. 2, p. 78. 
 
JOHN" JOSSELTN. 
 
 69 
 
 Its motion quick seems to elude the eye ; 
 It now a bird appears, and now a fly. 
 
 The various woodpeckers here charm the sight ; 
 Of mingled red, of beautious black and white. 
 Here whip-per-will ; a bird, whose fanci'd name 
 From its nocturnal note imagined, came. 
 Here, in the fall, large flocks of pigeons fly, 
 So numerous, that they darken all the sky. 
 Here other birds of ev'ry kind appear, 
 Whose names would be too long to mention here. 
 
 Large sturgeons num'rons crowd the Delaware ; 
 "Which, in warm weather, leap into the air; 
 So higli, that (strange to tell !) thej' often fly 
 Into the boats, which on the river ply ! 
 That royal fish is little valu'd here ; 
 But where more scarce, 'tis more esteemed and dear. 
 
 Pulehra duos inter 6ita stat Philadelphia rivos; 
 
 Inter quos duo sunt millia longa via;. 
 Delawar hie major, Sculkil minor ille vocatur ; 
 
 India et Suevis notus uterque diu. 
 ^Edibus ornatur multis urbs limite longo, 
 
 Qua; parva eniicuit tempore magna brevi. 
 Hie plateas mensor spatiis delineat recmis, 
 
 Et domui recto est ordine juneta domus. 
 Quinque sacra; hac a;des una numerantur in urbe, 
 
 Altera non etiam distat ab urbe procul. 
 Ex quibus una alias est qua; supereminet omnes ; 
 
 Cujus nondum ingeus perficiatur opus. 
 Prtecinit hie sacros divina melodia psalmos: 
 
 Et vox totius succinit inde chori. 
 Elevet hoc hominum mentes, et mulceat aures, 
 
 Sed cor devotum psallit in aure Dei. 
 Basis huic posita est excelsa; firma futurse 
 
 Turns, ubi dicunt a;ra sonora fore. 
 Hie in gymnasiis linguae doeentur et artes 
 
 Ingenua; ; multis doctor & ipse fui. 
 Una schola hie alias etiarn supereminet omnes 
 
 Romano et Grwco qua; docet ore loqui. 
 
 Fair Philadelphia next is rising seen, 
 Between two rivers plac'd, two miles between ; 
 The Delaware and Sculkil, new to fame, 
 Both ancient streams, j'et of a modern name, 
 The city, form'd upon a beautious plan, 
 Has many houses built, tho' late began ; 
 Rectangular the streets, direct and fair ; 
 And rectilinear all the ranges are. 
 Five houses here for sacred use are known, 
 Another stands not far without the town. 
 Of these appears one in a grander style, 
 But yet unfinished is the lofty pile. 
 Here psalms divine melodious accents raise, 
 And choral symphony sweet songs of praise: 
 To raise the mind, and sooth the pious ear ; 
 But God devoted minds doth always hear. 
 A lofty tow'r is founded on this ground, 
 For future bells to make a distant sound. 
 Here schools, for learning, and for arts, are seen ; 
 In which to many I've a teacher been : 
 But one, in teaching, doth the rest excel, 
 To know and speak the Greek and Latin welk 
 
 JOIIN JOSSELYK 
 Tiie first mention we have of John Josselyn is 
 from his own words, that he set sail for New 
 England April 26, and arrived at Boston on the 
 3d of July, 1638. Here he "presented his re- 
 spects to Mr. Winthrop the governor, and to Mr. 
 Cotton the teacher of Boston church, to whom he 
 delivered, from Mr. Francis Quarles the poet, the 
 translation of the 16, 25, 51, 88, 113, and 137 
 Psalms into English meter." lie returned to 
 England in October of the following year. A 
 
 storm which occurred on his voyage seems to have 
 made him poetical. He thus discourses : 
 
 And the bitter storm augments ; the "wild winds 
 
 wage 
 "War from all parts ; and join with the 6ea's rage. 
 The sad clouds sink in showers; you would have 
 
 thought, 
 That high-swoln-seas even unto Heaven had 
 
 wrought 
 And Heaven to seas descended : no star Bhown ; 
 Blind night in darkness, tempests and her own 
 Dread terrors lost; yet this dire lightning turns 
 To more fear'd light ; the sea with lightning burns. 
 The pilot knew not what to chuse or fly, 
 Art stood arnaz'd in ambiguity. 
 
 He thus commences the recital of his second 
 voyage. 
 
 I have heard of a certain merchant in the west of 
 England, who after many great losses, walking upon 
 the sea bank in a calm sun-shining day ; observing 
 the smoothness of the sea, coming in with a che- 
 quered or dimpled wave: Ah (quoth he) thou flat- 
 tering element, many a time hast thou inticed me to 
 throw myself and my fortunes into thy arms ; but 
 thou hast hitherto proved treacherous; thinking to 
 find thee a mother of increase, I have found thee to 
 be the mother of mischief and wickedness; yea the 
 father of prodigies; therefore, being now secure, I 
 will trust thee no more. But mark this man's reso- 
 lution a while after, periculum maris spes lucri 
 superat. So fared it with me, that having escaped 
 the dangers of one voyage, must needs put on a 
 resolution for a second, wherein I plowed many a 
 churlish billow with little or no advantage, but 
 rather to my loss and detriment. In the setting 
 down whereof I propose not to insist in a methodical 
 way, but according to my quality, in a plain and 
 brief relation as I have done already; for I perceive, 
 if I used all the art that possibly I could, it "would 
 be difficult to please all, for all men's eyes, ears, faith, 
 and judgments are not of a size. There be a sort of 
 stagnant stinking spirits, who, like flies, lie sucking 
 at the botches of carnal pleasures, and never tra- 
 velled so much sea as is between Heth ferry and 
 Lyon Key ; yet notwithstanding (sitting in the chair 
 of the scornful over their whists and draughts of 
 intoxication) I will desperately censure the relations 
 of the greatest travellers. It was a good proviso of 
 a learned man, never to report wonders, for in so 
 doing of the greatest he will be sure not to be be- 
 lieved, but laughed at, which certainly bewrays 
 their ignorance and want of discretion. Of fools 
 and madmen then I shall take no care, I will not 
 invite these in the least to honour me with a glance 
 from their supercilious eyes ; but rather advise them 
 to keep their inspection for their fine tougu'd ro- 
 mances and plays. This homely piece, I protest 
 ingenuously, is prepared for such only who well 
 know how to make use of their charitable construc- 
 tions towards works of this nature, to whom I submit 
 myself in all my faculties, and proceed in my second 
 voyage. 
 
 He sailed May 23d, 1663, and returned De- 
 cember 1, 1671 — the interval of eight and a half 
 years having been passed in New England. He 
 published, the year after his return, New Eng- 
 land's Rarities Discovered* In it he gives us a 
 
 * New England's Rarities Discovered in Birds, Beasts, 
 Fishes, Serpents, and Plants of that Country; Together with 
 the Physical and Chyrurjrical Remedies wherewith the Na- 
 tives constantly use to cure their Distempers, Wounds, and 
 Sores. Also a Perfect Description of an Indian Squa, in all 
 
70 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 glimpse of Boston in 1663. " The buildings are 
 handsome, joining one another as in London, with 
 many large streets, most of them paved with 
 pebble stcSte; in the high street towards the 
 Common there are fair buildings, some of stone, 
 and at the east end of the town one amongst the 
 rest, built by the shore by Mr. Gibs a merchant, 
 which it is thought will stand him in less than 
 80001. before it be fully finished. The town is 
 not divided into parishes, yet they have three fair 
 meeting houses or churches, which hardly suffice 
 to receive the inhabitants and strangers that come 
 in from all parts." 
 
 He next issued a brief work entitled, An Ac- 
 count of Two Voyages to New England* 
 
 His books are mainly occupied with a view of 
 the natural history of the country, but he occa- 
 sionally gives us some hints of the inhabitants, 
 and is uniformly amusing. He also published in 
 1674, Chronological Observations of America, 
 from the year of the World to the year of Christ, 
 1673. 
 
 JOHN WILLIAMS, 
 
 The author of the Redeemed Captive, was born 
 at Roxbury, Massachusetts, December 16, 1664, 
 where his grandfather had settled in the year 
 1638, on his emigration from England. By the 
 aid of his maternal grandfather, William Park, he 
 received a liberal education, and was graduated 
 at Harvard at the age of nineteen. In the spring 
 of 1686 he became the first minister of Deerfield. 
 This was a post of unusual peril, as the place, then 
 a frontier settlement, the first houses in which 
 were erected in 1671, had suffered since 1675 
 continued attacks from the Indians engaged in 
 King Philip's war. It was burnt by these savages 
 after their slaughter of Captain Lathrop and his 
 company, on the 18th of September, 1675, and 
 the site was not again permanently occupied by 
 the whites until 1682. In 1693, depredations re- 
 commenced. Attacks were made from time to 
 time on the fort by parties of French and Indians, 
 and on the 29th February (O.S.) 1704, the place 
 was taken, destroyed by fire, some thirty-eight 
 of the townspeople slain, and about one hundred 
 carried into captivity, among whom were Mr. 
 "Williams, his wife (who was murdered on the 
 route), and children. They were marched through 
 the wilderness to Montreal, where they arrived 
 about the end of March. They remained in Ca- 
 nada until October 25, 1706, when fifty-seven 
 
 her Bravery; -with a Poem not improperly conferred upon 
 her. Lastly, a chronological table of the most remarkable pas- 
 sages in that country among the English. Illustrated with 
 cuts. By John Josselyn, Gent. London, printed for G. Wid- 
 dows. 1672. 
 
 * An Account of Two Voyages to New England; wherein 
 you have the setting out of a ship with the charges, &c. By 
 John Josselyn, Gent. Menner. distich rendred English by 
 Dr. Heylin. 
 
 Heart, take thine ease, 
 Men hard to please 
 
 Thou haply inight'st offend, 
 Though one speak ill 
 Of thee, some will 
 
 Say better; there's an end. 
 London, printed by Giles Widdows, at the Green Dragon 
 In St. Paul's Churchyard, 1674 
 
 were removed in a vessel sent from Boston to 
 that city, where they arrived on the 21st of No- 
 vember following. A portion of the remainder 
 had fallen from fatigue or violence on the march 
 or died during their captivity, and some preferred 
 to remain with their Indian captors. Williams 
 with two of his children returned, and in the 
 March following published his work on his cap- 
 tivity,* one of the most interesting productions in 
 our early literature. 
 
 He was invited immediately after his arrival to 
 return to Deerfield, and, although' the situation 
 was still perilous, ventured on his old field of 
 labor. Here lie married a daughter of Captain 
 Allen, of Windsor, Connecticut. The town had 
 been rebuilt after its destruction in 1704, and 
 was again attacked in 1709, but the assailants, 
 finding the inhabitants prepared to give them a 
 warm reception, withdrew. Soon after this 
 Williams was appointed a commissioner in the 
 expedition to Canada, under the command of 
 Col. Stoddard, undertaken to redeem the prisoners 
 yet remaining there. The attempt was success- 
 ful in several instances, but not in obtaining the 
 daughter of Mr. Williams. The remainder of his 
 life was passed in comparative tranquillity, and 
 he died at Deerfield, June 12, 1729, leaving eight 
 children. 
 
 The Redeemed Captive has been frequently 
 reprinted. The last edition (published by Hop- 
 kins, Bridgman & Co., Northampton, Mass.) is 
 excellently edited with a life of the writer, to 
 which we have been mainly indebted in the 
 present sketch, and an account of his descendants 
 by one of their number, Dr. Stephen W. Williams. 
 We present a passage from the record of the 
 perilous and painful journey. 
 
 We travelled not far the first day ; God made the 
 heathen so to pity our children, that though they 
 had several wounded persons of their own to carry 
 upon their shoulders, for thirty miles, before they 
 came to the river, yet they carried our children, 
 incapable of travelling, in their arms, and upon their 
 shoulders. When we came to our lodging place, 
 the first night, they dug away the snow, and made 
 some wigwams, cut down some small branches of 
 the spruce-tree to lie down on, and gave the prison- 
 ers somewhat to eat ; but we had but little appetite. 
 I was pinioned and bound down that night, and so 
 I was every night whilst I was with the army. 
 Some of the enemy who brought drink with them 
 from the town fell to drinking, and in their drunken 
 fit they killed my negro man, the only dead person 
 I either saw at the town, or in the way. 
 
 In the night an Englishman made his escape ; in 
 the morning (March 1), I was called for, and ordered 
 by the general to tell the English, that if any more 
 made their escape, they would burn the rest of the 
 prisoners. He that took me was unwilling to let 
 me speak with any of the prisoners, as we marched ; 
 but on the morning of the second day, he being ap- 
 pointed to guard the rear, I was put into the hands 
 of my other master, who permitted me to speak to 
 my wife, when I overtook her, and to walk with her 
 
 * The Redeemed Captive returning to Zion : or a faithful 
 history of remarkable occurrences in the captivity and deliver- 
 ance of Mr. John Williams, Minister of the Gospel in Deerfield, 
 who in the desolation which befel that plantation by an incur- 
 sion of the French and Indians, was by them carried awav. 
 with his family and his neighbourhood, into Canada. Drawn 
 up by himself. 
 
JOHN LEDERER. 
 
 71 
 
 to help her in her journey. On the way, we dis- 
 coursed of the happiness of those who had a right to 
 an house not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens ; and God for a father and friend ; as also, 
 that it was our reasonable duty quietly to submit to 
 the will of God, and to say, " The will of the Lord 
 be done." My wife told me her strength of body 
 began to fail, and that I must expect to part with 
 her; saying, she hoped God would preserve my 
 life, and the life of some, if not of all our children 
 with us ; and commended to me, under God, the 
 care of them. She never spake any discontented 
 word as to what had befallen us, but with suitable 
 expressions justified God iu what had happened. 
 We soon made a halt, in which time my chief sur- 
 viving master came up, upon which I was put upon 
 marching with the foremost, aud so made my last 
 farewell of my dear wife, the desire of my eyes, and 
 companion in many mercies and afflictions. Upon 
 our separation from each other, we asked for each 
 other grace sufficient for what God should call us 
 to. After our being parted from one another, she 
 spent the few remaining minutes of her stay in 
 reading the Holy Scriptures ; which she was wont 
 personally every day to delight her soul in reading, 
 praying, meditating on, by herself, in her closet, 
 over and above what she heard out of them iu our 
 family worship. I was made to wade over a small 
 river, and so were all the English, the water above 
 knee deep, the stream very swift ; and after that to 
 travel up a small mountain ; my strength was 
 almost spent, before I came to the top of it. No 
 sooner had I overcome the difficulty of that ascent, 
 but I was permitted to sit down, and be unburdened 
 of my pack. I sat pitying those who were behind, 
 and entreated my master to let me go down and 
 help my wife ; but he refused, and would not let me 
 stir from him. I asked each of the prisoners (as 
 they passed by me) after her, aud heard that, 
 passing through the above-said river, she fell down, 
 and was plunged over head and ears in the water ; 
 after which she travelled not far, for at the foot of 
 that mountain, the cruel and blood-thirsty savage 
 who took her slew her with his hatchet at one 
 stroke, the tidings of which were very awfuL Aud 
 yet such was the hard-heartedness of the adversary, 
 that my tears were reckoned to me as a reproach. 
 My loss and the loss of my children was great; our 
 hearts were so filled with sorrow, that nothing but 
 the comfortable hopes of her being taken away, in 
 mercy to herself, from the evils we were to see, feel, 
 and suffer under, (and joined to the assembly of the 
 epirits of just men made perfect, to rest in peace, 
 and joy unspeakable and full of glory, and the good 
 pleasure of God thus to exercise us,) could have kept 
 us from sinking under, at that time. That Scrip- 
 ture, Job i. 21, " Naked came I out of my mother's 
 womb, and naked shall I return thither : the Lord 
 gave, aud the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
 name of the Lord," — -was brought to my mind, and 
 from it, that an afflicting God was to be glorified ; 
 with some other places of Scripture, to persuade to 
 a patient bearing my afflictions. 
 
 We were again called upon to march, with a far 
 heavier burden on my spirits than on my back. I 
 begged of God to overrule, in his providence, that 
 the corpse of one so dear to me, and of one whose 
 spirit he had taken to dwell with him in glory, 
 might meet with a Christian burial, and not be left 
 for meat to the fowls of the air and beasts of the 
 earth , a mercy that God graciously vouchsafed to 
 grant. For God put it into the hearts of my neigh- 
 bors, to come out as far as she lay, to take up her 
 corpse, carry it to the town, and decently to bury it 
 soon after. In our march they killed a sucking in- 
 
 fant of one of my neighbors ; and before night a girl 
 of about eleven years of age. I was made to mourn, 
 at the consideration of my flock being, so far, a flock 
 of slaughter, many being slain iu the town, and so 
 many murdered in so few miles from the town ; 
 and from fears what we must yet expect, from such 
 who delightfully imbrued their hands in the blood 
 of so many of His people. When we came to our 
 lodging place, an Indian captain from the eastward 
 spake to my master about killing me, and taking off 
 my scalp. I lifted up my heart to God, to implore 
 his grace aud mercy in such a time of need ; and 
 afterwards I told my master, if he intended to lull 
 me, I desired he would let rue know of it; assuring 
 him that my death, after a promise of quarter, would 
 bring the guilt of blood upon him. He told me he 
 would not kill me. We laid down and slept, for 
 God sustained and kept us. 
 
 Mr. S. G. Drake, of Boston, has preserved in 
 his Indian Captivities, and Booh of the Indians, 
 a number of original narratives, of a character 
 similar to that of Williams, forming a collection 
 of much historical value. These will always 
 retain their place in popular interest, but from 
 their necessary resemblance of subject and treat- 
 ment to the " Redeemed Captive," do not call 
 for separate notice. 
 
 JOHN LEDEEEE. 
 
 Jonsr Ledeeer, the first explorer of the AUe- 
 ganies, prepared an account of his Three 
 several Marches from Virginia to the toest of 
 Carolina and other parts of the continent, begun 
 in March, 1669, and ended in September, 1670;* 
 in Latin, which was translated by Sir William 
 Talbot, and published in 1672. The address to 
 the reader, by Talbot, informs us, 
 
 That a stranger should presume (though with Sir 
 William Berkly's commission) to go into those parts 
 of the American continent where Englishmen never 
 had been, and whither some refused to accompany 
 him, was, in Virginia, looked on as so great an inso- 
 lence, that our traveller, at his return, instead of 
 welcome and applause, met nothing but affronts and 
 reproaches; for, indeed, it was their part that for- 
 sook him in the expedition, to procure him discredit 
 that was a witness to theirs. Therefore no industry 
 was wanting to prepare men with a prejudice 
 against him, and this their malice improved to such 
 a general animosity, that he was not safe in Vir- 
 ginia from the outrage of the people, drawn into a 
 persuasion, that the public levy of that year went 
 all to the expense of his vagaries. Forced by this 
 storm into Maryland, he became known to me, 
 though then ill affected to the man, by the stories 
 that went about of him. Nevertheless, finding him, 
 contrary to my expectation, a modest, ingenious per- 
 son, and a pretty scholar, I thought it common jus- 
 tice to give him an occasion of vindicating himself 
 from what I had heard of him ; which truly he did, 
 with so convincing reason and circumstance as quite 
 abolished those former impressions in me, and made 
 me desire this account of his Travels. 
 
 Lederer does not appear in either of his ex- 
 peditions to have penetrated further than, in his 
 
 * The Discoveries of John Lederer, in three sever.il marches 
 from Virginia, to the west of Carolina, and other parts of the 
 continent: be^un in March 1660, and ended in September 1G70. 
 Together with A general Map of the whole Territory which he 
 traversed. Collected and Translated out of Latine, from his 
 Discourse and Writings, by Sir William Talbot, Baronet, 
 London: printed by J. C, for Samuel Ileyrick, 1672. 
 
72 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 own words, " to the top of the Apalata?an moun- 
 tains." His tract contains but twenty-seven 
 quarto pages, a portion of which is tilled with 
 accounts of the Indians. His "Conjectures of 
 the Land beyond the Apalatcean Mountains " are 
 curious : 
 
 They are certainly in a great error, who imagine 
 that the continent of North America is but eight or 
 ten da3 - s' journey over from the Atlantic to the In- 
 dian ocean: which all reasonable men must acknow- 
 ledge, if they consider that Sir Francis Drake kept 
 a west-north-west course from Cape Mendocino to 
 California. Nevertheless, by what I gathered from 
 the stranger Indians at Akeuatzy, of their voyage 
 by sea to the very mountains from a far distant 
 north-west country, I am brought over to their 
 opinion who think that the Indian ocean does 
 stretch an arm or bay from California into the con- 
 tinent, as far as the Apalatcean mountains, answer- 
 able to the gulfs of Florida and Mexico on this side. 
 Yet I am far from believing with some, that such 
 great and navigable rivers are to be found on the 
 other side of the Apalatoeans falling into the Indian 
 ocean, as those which run from them to the east- 
 ward. My first reason is derived from the know- 
 ledge and experience we already have of South 
 America, whose Andes send the greatest rivers in 
 the world (as the Amazon and the Rio de la Plata, 
 &c.) into the Atlantiek, but none at all into the 
 Pacifique Sea. Another argument is, that all our 
 waterfowl, which delight in lakes and rivers, as 
 swanB, geese, ducks, <fee., come over the mountains 
 from the lake of Canada, when it is frozen over 
 every winter, to our fresh rivers : which they would 
 never do, could they find any on the other side of 
 the Apalatoeans.* 
 
 FEANCIS KNAPP. 
 Francis Knapp, the son of George Knapp, of 
 Chilton, in Berkshire, was born in the year 1672, 
 and matriculated at St. John's college, Oxford.f 
 His father, a captain in the British navy, com-' 
 mantled a ninety-gun ship on the American coast 
 in the early part of the last century. The son 
 came to America to take possession of some lands 
 acquired by his grandfather at Watertown, near 
 Boston, where he passed the remainder of his 
 life, engaged in the quiet pursuits of a scholar. 
 He was a composer of music, and the author of 
 a poetical Ejihtle to Mr. B., reprinted in J. | 
 Nichols's " Select Collection of Poems, 1780," and 
 of a poetical address to Mr. Pope, on his Wind- 
 sor Forest, dated June 7, 1715, which appears 
 among the commendatory poems prefixed to the 
 first and subsequent editions of that poet's works. 
 It is claimed by Samuel L. Knapp, in his Ameri- 
 can Biography, as an American production, but 
 in a note by William Roscoe to his edition of 
 Pope, is said to have been written in Killala, 
 Mayo county, Ireland. 
 
 The Epistle in Nichols is a well-penned satire 
 on the author tribe, with an ungenerous flin<r at 
 
 * "A Mapp of Virginia discovered to ye Hills, 11 1651, makes 
 the distance less than three hundred miles from the southern- 
 most cape of Delaware to ''the Sea of China, and the Indies/' 
 The author of "A Perfect Description of Virginia," sent from 
 Virginia at the request of a gentleman of worthy note, who 
 desired to know the true state of Virginia as it now stands, re- 
 printed in Vol. ix. of the Second Series Mass. Hist Soc. Coll., 
 has a similar opinion with Lederer as to rivers running west 
 from the Alleganies. Account by John Penington. of Plan- 
 tagenet's New Albion. Penn. Hist. MemoirB, Vol. iv. pt, 1. 
 
 t Wood's Ath. Oxon., Ed. Bliss. 
 
 Wesley, and a humorous preference of Eymer 
 over Dryden, while the author deprecates an 
 act of parliament which should restrain the race 
 of poetasters. 
 
 I grant you, such a course as this might do 
 To make them humbly treat of what thej- know, 
 Not venturing further than their brains will go. 
 But what should I do then, for ever spoil'd 
 Of this diversion which frail authors yield? 
 I should no more on Lunton's counter meet, 
 Bards that are deeply skill'd in rhyme and feet; 
 For I am charm'd with easy nonsense more, 
 Thau all the wit that men of sense adore. 
 With fear I view great Drydeu's hallow'd page, 
 With fear I view it, and 1 read with rage. 
 I'm all with fear, with grief, and love possest, 
 Tears in my eyes, and anguish in my breast, 
 While I with mourning Anthony repine : 
 And all the hero's miseries are mine. 
 If I read Edgar, then my soul's at peace, 
 Lull'd in a lazy state of thoughtless ease. 
 No passion's ruffled by the peaceful lay, 
 No stream, no depth, to hurry me away ; 
 Rymer in both professions harmless proves, 
 Nor wounds when critic, nor wheu poet moves. 
 
 The lines prefixed to Pope announce a man of 
 wit and taste, by whose presence Watertown 
 should have been the gainer. 
 
 Hail, sacred Bard ! a Muse unknown before 
 Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic shore. 
 To our dark world thy shining page is shown, 
 And Windsor's gny retreat becomes our own. 
 The Eastern pomp had just bespoke our care, 
 And India poured her gaudy treasures here: 
 A various spoil adorned our naked land, 
 The pride of Persia glittered on our strand, 
 And China's Earth was cast on common sand : 
 Tossed up and down the glossy fragments lay, 
 And dressed the rocky shelves, and paved the painted 
 
 bay. 
 Thy treasures next arrived : and now we boast 
 A nobler cargo on our barren coast : 
 From thy hixnta ;t Forest we receive 
 More lasting glories than the East can give. 
 
 Where'er we dip in thy delightful page, 
 What pompous scenes our busy thoughts engage I 
 The pompous scenes in all their pride appear, 
 Fresh in the page, as in the grove they were. 
 Nor half so true the fair Lodona shows 
 The sylvan state that on her border grows, 
 While she the wandering shepherd entertains 
 With a new Windsor in her watery plains ; 
 Thy juster lays the lucid wave surpass, 
 The living scene is in the Muse's glass. 
 Nor sweeter notes the echoing forests cheer, 
 When Philomela sits and warbles there, 
 Than when you sing the greens and opening glades, 
 And give us Harmony as well as Shades: 
 A Titian's hand might draw the grove, but you 
 Can paint the grove, and add the music too. 
 
 In the New England Weekly Journal for June 
 28, 1731, we have met with a poem, hitherto 
 unnoticed, descriptive of Watertown, worthy of 
 Knapp's pen — of which the reader may judge by 
 a few passages, marking an early and true employ- 
 ment of American incidents : — 
 
 A NEW ENGLAND POND. 
 
 Of ancient streams presume no more to tell, 
 The fam'd Castalian or Pierian well. 
 Fresh-pond superior, must those rolls confess, 
 As much as Cambridge yields to Rome or Greece: 
 
BENJAMIN COLMAN. 
 
 73 
 
 More limpid water ean no fountain show, 
 
 A fairer bottom or a smoother brow; 
 
 A painted world its peaceful gleam contains 
 
 The heavenly arch, the bord'ring groves and plains: 
 
 Here in mock silver Cynthia seems to roll, 
 
 And trusty pointers watch the frozen pole. 
 
 Here sages might observe the wand' ring stars, 
 
 And rudest swains commence astrologers: 
 
 Along the brim the lovely plover stalks 
 
 And to his visionary fellow talks: 
 
 Amid the wave the vagrant blackbird sees, 
 
 And tries to perch upon the imag'd trees; 
 
 On flying clouds the simple bullocks gaze 
 
 Or vainly reach to crop the shad'wy grass; 
 
 From uei'bring hills the stately horse espies 
 
 Himself a feeding and himself envies. 
 
 Hither pursu'd by op'uiug hounds the hare 
 
 Blesses himself to see a forest near, 
 
 The waving shrubs he takes for real wood, 
 
 And boldly plunges in the yielding flood. 
 
 On tins side willows hem the basin round, 
 
 There graceful trees the promontory crown, 
 
 Whose mingled tufts and outspread arms compose 
 
 A shade delightful to the laurell'd brows ; 
 
 Here mossy couches tempt to pleasing dreams 
 
 The love-sick soul, and ease the weary limbs: — 
 
 No noxious snake disperses poison here, 
 
 Nor screams of night bird read the twilight air. 
 
 Excepting him who when the groves are still, 
 
 Hums aui'rous tunes and whispers whip-poor-will, 
 
 To hear whose carol elves in circles trip. 
 
 And lovers' hearts within their bosoms leap, 
 
 Whose savage notes the troubled mind amuse, 
 
 Banish despair, and hold the falling dews. 
 
 No ghastly horrors conjure tho'ts of woe, 
 
 Or dismal prospects to the fancy show. 
 
 Bir.DS AND FISHES. 
 
 Hither ye bards for inspiration come, 
 Let every other fount but this be dumb. 
 Which way soe'er your airy genius leads. 
 Receive your model from these vocal shudes. 
 Wou'd you in homely pastoral excel, 
 Take pattern from the merry piping quail; 
 Observe the blue-bird for a roundelay, 
 The chattering p3~e or ever babbling jay. 
 The plaintive dove the soft love verse can teach, 
 And mimic thrush to imitators preach. 
 In Pindar's strain the lark salutes the dawn, 
 The lyric robin chirps the evening on. 
 For poignant satire mind the mavis well, 
 And hear the sparrow for a madrigal. 
 For ev'ry sense a pattern here you have, 
 From strains heroic down to humble stave. 
 Not Phoebus' self, altho' the God of verse, 
 Could hit such fine and entertaining airs ; 
 Nor the fair maids who round the fountain sate, 
 Such artless heav'nly music modulate. 
 Each thicket seems a Paradise renew'd, 
 The soft vibrations fire the moving blood. 
 Each sense its part of sweet delusion shares, 
 The scenes bewitch the eye, the song the ears. 
 Pregnant with scent each wind regales the smell, 
 Like cooling sheets th' enwrapping breezes feel. 
 During the dark, if poets' eyes we trust, 
 These lawns are haunted by some swarthy ghost. 
 Some Indian prince who, fond of former joys, 
 With bow and quiver thro' the shadow plies; 
 He can't in death his native grove forget, 
 But leaves Elyzium for his ancient seat. 
 O happy pond, hadst thou in Grecia flowM, 
 The bounteous blessing of some watry God, 
 Or had some Ovid sung this liquid rise, 
 Distill'd, perhaps, from slighted Virgil's eyes. 
 Well is thy worth in Indian story known, 
 
 Thy living lymph and fertile borders shown, 
 Thy various flocks the cover'd shore can shun, 
 Drove by the fowler and the fatal gun. 
 Thy shining roach and yellow bristly breme, 
 The piek'rel, rav'nous monarch of the stream, 
 The perch, whose back a ring of colours shows, 
 The horny pout, who courts the slimy ooze, 
 The eel serpentine, some of dubious race, 
 The tortoise witli his golden spotted ease ; 
 Thy hairy musk rat, whose perfume defies 
 The balmy odour of Arabian skies; 
 The throng of Harvard know thy pleasures well, 
 Joys too extravagant, perhaps, to tell ; 
 Hither ofttiuies the learned tribe repair, 
 When Sol returning warms the glowing year. 
 
 BENJAMIN COLMAN. 
 Benjamin' Colman was born in Boston, Oct. 19, 
 1073. He entered "young and small" into the 
 school of Ezekiel Cheever, by whom he was pre- 
 pared for Harvard college, where he was graduated 
 in 1692. He began to preach in the following year 
 at Medford, near Bostun, and in 1695, embarked 
 for England. The mother country was then at 
 war with France, and the ship was attacked by a 
 French privateer. Mr. Colman took a gallant part 
 in her defence, and " was exposed all the while on 
 the quarter-deck, where four out of seven were 
 wounded, and one mortally. He was much praised 
 for his courage when the fight was over ; but 
 though he charged and discharged like the rest, 
 yet he declared he was sensible of no courage, but 
 of a great deal of fear, and when they had received 
 two or three broadsides, he wondered when bis 
 courage would come, as he had heard others talk. 
 In short, he fought like a philosopher and a Chris- 
 tian."* The vessel was captured, and all on board 
 taken to France, where Mr. Colman was tor some 
 time imprisoned, until an exchange of prisoners 
 between the two belligerents enabled him to visit 
 England, where he preached several times with 
 great success, and gained the friendship of Bates, 
 Calamy, Howe, and other leading dissenting minis- 
 ters. He was urged to remain in London, but in 
 1699 receiving a call from a number of leading 
 citizens of Boston, who had built the Brattle street 
 church, to become their first minister, he accepted 
 it, and consequently returned to Boston, where ho 
 arrived "after a long eight weeks' sick passage," 
 on the first of November. The congregation was 
 formed in opposition to the Cambridge platform, 
 and the remaining churches of Boston refused, 
 for some }'ears, to hold communion with its minis- 
 ter.')' He continued his connexion with the con- 
 gregation until his death in 1747, preaching to 
 them on the last Sunday of his life. He was held 
 in great esteem as a pulpit orator, received the 
 degree of D.D. from the University of Glasgow in 
 1731, and a large number of his sermons were 
 published. In 1724 he was elected president of 
 Harvard college, but declined the office. He was, 
 however, a good friend to the institution, and 
 also to Yale, procuring for both many donations 
 from his English as well as American friends. 
 He was thrice married and left a numerous family. 
 The Rev. Ebenezer Turell, who married bis daugh- 
 ter in 1749, published a life of her father, from 
 
 * Life by the Rev. Ebenezer Turell, p. G, 
 t Eliot's Bio;;. Diet. 
 
74 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 which the materials of this sketch have been de- 
 rived. It forms a quarto volume of over two 
 hundred pages, and deserves high commendation 
 among American biographies. Dr. Colman wrote 
 a short poem, Elijah's Translation, on the death 
 of the Rev. Samuel Willard, 1707, and a few oc- 
 casional verses and poetical epistles are preserved 
 in his life. He also wrote a tract in favor of in- 
 oculation for the small-pox, in 1721. 
 
 ELIJAH'S ASCENSION. 
 
 'Twas at high noon, the day serene and fair, 
 Mountains of lum'nous clouds rolled in the air, 
 When on a sudden, from the radiant skies, 
 Superior light flashed in Elisha's eyes ; 
 The heavens were cleft, and from th' imperial throne 
 A stream of glory, dazzling splendor shone : 
 Beams of ten thousand suns shot round about, 
 The sun and every blazoned cloud went out: 
 Bright hosts of angels lined the heavenly way, 
 To guard the saint up to eternal day. 
 Then down the steep descent, a chariot bright, 
 And steeds of fire, swift as the beams of light. 
 Winged seraphs ready 6tood, bowed low to greet 
 The favorite saint, and hand him to his seat. 
 Enthroned he sat, transformed with joys his mien, 
 Calm his gay soul, and like his face serene. 
 His eye and burning wishes to his God, 
 Forward he bowed, and on the triumph rode. 
 Saluted, as he passed the heavenly cloud, 
 With shouts of joy, and hallelujahs loud. 
 Ten thousand thousand angel-trumpets sound, 
 And the vast realms of heaven all echoed round. 
 
 TO T7BANIA ON THE DEATH OF HEE FIF.ST AND ONLY CHILD. 
 
 Why mourns my beauteous friend bereft ? 
 Her Saviour and her heaven are left : 
 Her lovely babe is there at rest, 
 In Jesus' arms embraced and blest. 
 
 Would you, Urania, wish it down 
 From yon bright Throne and shining Crown ? 
 To your cold arms and empty breast, 
 Could Heaven indulge you the request ; 
 Your bosom's neither warm nor fair, 
 Compared with Abraham's : leave it there. 
 
 He the famed father of the just, 
 Beheld himself but earth and dust, 
 Before the will of God most high, 
 And bid his darling Isaac die. 
 
 When Heaven required in sacrifice 
 The dear desire of his eyes.; 
 And more to prove his love commands 
 The offering from the Father's hands ; 
 See how th' illustrious parent yields, 
 And seeks Moriah's mournful fields. 
 
 He bound his lovely only child 
 For death ; his soul serene and mild, 
 He reached his hand, and grasped the knife, 
 To give up the devoted life. 
 Less Heaven demands of thee, my friend ; 
 And less thy faith shall recommend. 
 All it requires is to resign, 
 To Heaven's own act and make it thine, 
 By silence under discipline. 
 
 The least we to our Maker owe ! 
 The least, Urania, you did vow ! 
 The least that was your Saviour's claim, 
 When o'er your babe his glorious Name 
 Was called in awful Baptism ! Then 
 You gave it back to Heaven again. 
 
 You freely owned that happy hour, 
 Heaven's right, propriety, and power, 
 The loan at pleasure to resume, 
 And call the pretty stranger home. 
 
 A witness likewise at its birth 
 
 I stood, that hour of joy and mirth: 
 I saw your thankful praises rise, 
 And flow from pleased, uplifted eyes 
 With raised devotion, one accord, 
 We gave the infant to its Lord. 
 
 And think, Urania, ere that day, 
 While the fair fruit in secret lay, 
 Unseen, yet loved within the womb 
 (Which also might have been its tomb). 
 How oft, before it blest your sight, 
 In secret prayers, with great delight, 
 You did recognize Heaven's right. 
 
 Now stand by these blest acts, my friend ; 
 Stand firmly by them to the end. 
 Now you are tried, repeat the act ; 
 Too just, too glorious to retract. 
 
 Think, dear Urania, how for thee, 
 God gave his only Son to be 
 An offering on the cursed tree. 
 
 Think, how the Son of God on earth 
 (The spotless Virgin's blessed birth), . 
 Our lovely babes took up and blest, 
 And them high heirs of Heaven contest ! 
 
 Think, how the blest of Woman stood, 
 While impious hands, to the cursed wood, 
 Nailed down her only Son and God ! 
 
 Learn hence, Urania, to be dumb ! 
 Learn thou the praise that may become 
 Thy lighter grief, which Heaven does please 
 To take such wondrous ways to ease. 
 
 Adore the God who from thee takes 
 No more than what he gives and makes: 
 And means in tenderest love the rode 
 To serve to thy eternal good. 
 
 WILLIAM BYED. 
 
 In 1841, Edmund Ruffin, of "Virginia, prepared 
 for the press and published a volume entitled 
 The Westover Manuscripts* It was the produc- 
 tion of a gentleman once much celebrated in 
 the Old Dominion, whose story cannot be better 
 told for our purpose than in the distinguished 
 recital of the inscription upon the monument 
 which covers his remains in the garden of his 
 once splendid Estate of Westover, on the north 
 bank of James River. " Here lieth the Honor- 
 able William Byrd, Esq., being born to one of the 
 amplest fortunes in this country, he was sent early 
 to England for his education ; where, under the 
 care and direction of Sir Robert Southwell, and 
 ever favoured with his particular instructions, he 
 made a happy proficiency in polite and various 
 learning. By the means of the same noble friend, 
 he was introduced to the acquaintance of many 
 of the first persons of that age for knowledge, 
 wit, virtue, birth, or high station, and particularly 
 contracted a most intimate and bosom friendship 
 with the learned and illustrious Charles Boyle, 
 Earl of Orrery. He was called to the bar in the 
 Middle Temple, studied for some time in the Low 
 Countries, visited the court of France, and was 
 chosen Fellow of the Royal Society. Thus emi- 
 nently fitted for the service and ornament of his 
 country, he was made receiver general of his ma- 
 jesty's revenues here, was thrice appointed public 
 agent to the court and ministry of England, and 
 
 * The Westover Manuscripts : containing the History of the 
 Dividing Line betwixt Virginia and North Carolina; aJourney 
 to the tand of Eden, a.d. 1783 ; and a Progress to the Mines. 
 Written from 172S to 1T36, and now first published. By Wil- 
 liam Byrd, of Westover. Petersburg: Printed by Edmund 
 and Julian C. Euffln. 1841. Large 8vo. pp. 143. 
 
WILLIAM BYRD. 
 
 '75 
 
 being thirty-seven years a member, at last became 
 president of the council of this colony. To all 
 this were added a great elegancy of taste and life, 
 the well-bred gentleman and polite companion, 
 the splendid economist and prudent father of a 
 family, with the constant enemy of all exorbitant 
 power, and hearty friend to the liberties of his 
 coimtry. Nat. Mar. 28, 1674. Mort. Aug. 26, 
 1744. An. SBtat. 70." 
 
 The gentleman thus described, a man of plea- 
 sure and literature, at the age of fifty-four, set out 
 with a select party, composed of two fellow Vir- 
 ginian commissioners, Riclnvrd Fitz- William and 
 William Dandridge ; two surveyors, William 
 Mayo, and the mathematical professor of William 
 and Mary, Alexander Irvin ; with the Eeverend 
 Peter Fountain* as chaplain, and a party of seven- 
 teen woodmen and hunters, for the purpose of 
 meeting a similar body of commissioners of North 
 Carolina to draw the boundary line between the 
 two states. There were two expeditions for tins 
 purpose, one in the spring, the other in the fall 
 of the year 1728. Ool. Byrd conducted the Vir- 
 ginia party gallantly and safely through its perils 
 on what was then a tour of discovery, and on his 
 return to his seat at Westover caused his notes 
 of the journey to be fairly copied, and revised 
 them with his own hand. As now printed they 
 form one of the most characteristic and entertain- 
 ing productions of the kind ever written. They 
 have that sharp outline in description and fresh- 
 ness of feeling in sentiment which marks the best 
 Virginia tracts of Captain John Smith and his 
 fellows a century earlier ; with a humor of a more 
 modern date derived from a good natural vein 
 and the stores of experience of a man acquainted 
 with books, and of society in intimacy with what 
 was best in the old world and the new ; and more- 
 over of that privileged license of fortune which 
 permits a man to please others by first pleasing 
 himself. Col. Byrd is a little free in his language 
 at times, but that belongs to the race of hearty 
 livers of his century. There are touches in the 
 Journal worthy of Fielding ; indeed it is quite in 
 the vein of his exquisite Journey from London to 
 Lisbon. 
 
 The business of the expedition is narrated in 
 a clear, straightforward manner. It had its diffi- 
 culties in encounters with morasses, pocosons, and 
 slashes, beginning with the Dismal Swamp ; and 
 there was occasionally a rainy day and sometimes 
 a prospect of short commons. But it was free from 
 any serious disasters, and, at the worst, seems 
 never to have overpowered the good humor of its 
 leader; showing that however daintily he may 
 have been brought up, there is nothing like the 
 spirit of a gentleman and a scholar in encounter- 
 ing hardships. A good portion of this pleasant 
 narrative is taken up with accounts of the scenery, 
 the Indians, and the large stock of game and 
 "varmint" which gave employment to the hunters 
 of the party, and doubtless furnished the staple 
 of the highly-flavored stories of the "Manuscripts" 
 
 * The son of the Eev. James Fontaine, i Huiruenot refugee, 
 on the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, who settled in Ire- 
 land and prepared an Autobiography for "the use of all his 
 children,"which is printed with valuable illustrative matter in 
 the " Memoirs of a Huguenot Family," in a second edition, 
 New York, 1S53. by Ann Maury, one of his numerous descen- 
 dants. The volume includes a sermon and several letters by 
 the clergyman of Westover. 
 
 over the camp kettle at night. In the early parts 
 no little wit is expended upon the traditional 
 traits of character of the North Carolinians, who 
 fare no better in Byrd's hands than the Yankees 
 or the Dutchmen in the annals of Diedrich 
 Knickerbocker. The inhabitants of the vicinity 
 of Coratuck inlet seem to have furnished some 
 extraordinary specimens of humanity in those 
 days — one in particular of a marooner whose sole 
 dress was his beard, and whose subsistence was 
 " chiefly upon oysters, which bis handmaid made 
 a shift to gather from the adjacent rocks." To 
 which he adds, " thus did these wretches live in 
 a state of nature, and were mere Adamites, inno- 
 cence only excepted." The disputed ground of 
 the boundary was then a refuge for runaway 
 debtors, of whom we are told : " Nor were these 
 worthy borderers content to shelter runaway 
 slaves, but debtors and criminals have often met 
 with the like indulgence. But if the government 
 of North Carolina has encouraged this unneigh- 
 bourly policy in order to increase their people, it 
 is no more than what ancient Borne did before 
 them, which was made a city of refuge for all 
 debtors and fugitives, and from that wretched 
 beginning grew up in time to be mistress of a 
 great part of the world. And, considering how 
 fortune delights in bringing great things out of 
 small, who knows but Carolina may, one time or 
 other, come to be the seat of some other great 
 em] lire?" 
 
 As for religion, these careless settlers seem to 
 be quite without it, as recorded by Col. Byrd, 
 on occasion of a Sunday service when part of his 
 company were in the perils of the Dismal Swamp : 
 " In these sad circumstances, the kindest tiling 
 we could do for our suffering friends was to give 
 them a place in the Litany. Our chaplain, for 
 his part, did his office, and rubbed us up with a 
 seasonable sermon. This was quite a new thing 
 to our brethren of North Carolina, who live in a 
 climate where no clergyman can breathe, any 
 more than spiders in Ireland." Arriving at 
 Edenton we are told : " I believe this is the only 
 metropolis in the Christian or Mahometan world, 
 where there is neither church, chapel, mosque, 
 synagogue, or any other place of public worship 
 whatsoever. What little devotion there may 
 happen to be is much more private than their 
 vices. The people seem easy without a minister, 
 as long as they are exempted from paying him. 
 Sometimes the Society for propagating the Gos- 
 pel has had the charity to send over missionaries 
 to this country ; but unfortunately the priest has 
 been too lewd for the people, or, which oftener 
 happens, they are too lewd for the priest. For 
 these reasons these reverend gentlemen have al- 
 ways left their flocks as arrant heathen as they 
 found them. Thus much however may be said for 
 the inhabitants of Edenton, that not a soul has 
 the least taint of hypocrisy, or superstition, acting 
 very frankly and above-board in all their excess- 
 es." There is also a hint for the Virginian clergy, 
 which his friend Fountain could have stood in no 
 need of : "We christened two of our landlord's 
 children, which might have remained infidels all 
 their lives, had not we carried Christianity home 
 to his own door. The truth of it is, our neigh- 
 bours of North Carolina are not so zealous as to 
 go much out of their way to procure this benefit 
 
76 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 for their children : otherwise, being so near Vir- 
 ginia, they might, without exceeding much 
 trouble, make a journey to the next clergyman, 
 upon so good an errand. And indeed should the 
 neighbouring ministers, once in two or three 
 years, vouchsafe to take a turn among these gen- 
 tiles, to baptize them and their children, it would 
 look a little apostolical, and they might hope to 
 be requited for it hereafter, if that be not thought 
 too long to tarry for their reward." The terms 
 of expression in these sentences show the ready 
 wit, and there is here and there a moderate 
 allowance for poetry in sight of the natural 
 beauties of the country; when he speaks apolo- 
 getically for marrying the vines to the trees, and 
 pitches the tent "on the western banks of the 
 Mayo for the pleasure of being lulled to sleep by 
 the cascade," — when a churl would have taken 
 the other side. But he does not affect that kind 
 of writing, though the material for it is there. 
 He is more inclined to such illustrations as this : 
 " In this fine land, however, we met with no 
 water, till at the end of three miles we luckily 
 came upon a crystal stream, which, like some 
 lovers of conversation, discovered every thing 
 committed to its faithless bosom." His naming 
 of places is by their fanciful characteristics, as 
 a " noisy impetuous stream" ho calls Matri- 
 mony Creek; one hill a Pimple and a larger 
 elevation a Wart. He is a vivid describer of a 
 wild beast or an Indian. His description of the 
 savage scalping makes the flesh creep: — " Those 
 that are killed of the enemy, or disabled, they 
 scalp, that is, they cut the skin all around the 
 head just below the hair, and then clapping their 
 feet to the poor mortal's shoulders, pull the scalp 
 off clean and carry it off in triumph." Of the 
 frequent Natural History stories we may take 
 that on Bruin, how he eats and is eaten. 
 
 Our Indian killed a bear, two years old, that was 
 feasting on these grapes. He was very fat, as they 
 generally are in that season of the year. In the 
 fall, the flesh of this animal has a high relish, differ- 
 ent from that of other creatures, though inclining 
 nearest to that of pork, or rather of wild boar. A 
 true woodsman prefers this sort of meat to that of 
 the fattest venison, not only for the haut r/out, but 
 also because the fat of it is well tasted, and never 
 rises in the stomach. Another proof of the goodness 
 of this meat is, that it is less apt to corrupt than any 
 other with which we are acquainted. As agreeable 
 as such rich diet was to the men, yet we who were 
 not accustomed to it, tasted it at first with some 
 sort of squeamishness, that animal being of the dog 
 kind ; though a little use soon reconciled us to this 
 American venison. And that its being of the dog 
 kind might give us the less disgust, we had the ex- 
 ample of that ancient and police people, the Chinese, 
 who reckon dog's flesh too good for any under the 
 quality of a mandarin. This beast is in truth a 
 very clean feeder, living, while the season lasts, 
 upon acorns, chestnuts and chinquapins, wild honey 
 and wild grapes. They are naturally not carnivo- 
 rous, unless hunger constrain them to it, after the 
 mast is all gone, and the product of the woods quite 
 exhausted. They- are not provident enough to lay 
 up any hoard, like the squirrels, nor can they, after 
 all, live very long upon licking their paws, as Sir 
 John Mandevil and some other travellers tell us, 
 but are forced in the winter months to quit the 
 mountains, and visit the inhabitants. Their errand 
 is then to surprise a poor hog at a pinch to keep 
 
 them from starving. And to show that they are 
 not flesh-eaters by trade, they devour their prey 
 very awkwardly. They do not kill it right out, 
 and feast upon its blood and entrails, like other 
 ravenous beasts, but having, after a fair pursuit, 
 seized it with their paws, they begin first upon the 
 rump, and so devour one ,collop after another, till 
 they come to the vitals, the poor animal crying all 
 the while, for several minutes together. However, 
 in so doing, Bruin acts a little imprudently, because 
 the dismal outcry of the hog alarms the neighbour- 
 hood, and it is odds but he pays the forfeit with his 
 life, before he can secure his retreat. But bears soon 
 grow weary of this unnatural diet, and about Janu- 
 ary, when there is nothing to be gotten in the 
 woods, they retire into some cave or hollow tree, 
 where they sleep away two or three months very 
 comfortably. But then they quit their holes in 
 March, when the fish begin to run up the rivers, on 
 which they are forced to keep Lent, till some fruit 
 or berry comes in season. But bears are fondest of 
 chestnuts, which grow plentifully towards the 
 mountains, upon very large trees, where the soil 
 happens to be rich. We were curious to know how 
 it happened that man}' of the outward branches of 
 those trees came to be broken off in that solitary 
 place, and were informed that the bears are so dis- 
 creet as not to trust their unwieldy bodies on the 
 smaller limbs of the tree, that would not bear their 
 weight ; but after venturing as far as is safe, which 
 they can judge to an inch, they bite off the end of 
 the branch, which falling down, they are content to 
 finish their repast upon the ground. In the same 
 cautious manner they secure the acorns that grow 
 on the weaker limbs of the oak. And it must be 
 allowed that, in these instances, a bear carries 
 instinct a great way, and acts more reasonably than 
 many of his betters, who indiscreetly venture upon 
 frail projects that will not bear them. 
 
 The practical suggestions for the investigation 
 of the country are acute and valuable — nor 
 should his simple expressions of thankfulness to 
 God be forgotten. 
 
 On the t\vent3'-seeond day of November he 
 closes the Diary with this satisfactory review of 
 the affair : — 
 
 Thus ended our second expedition, in which we 
 extended the line within the shadow of the Chariky 
 mountains, where we were obliged to set up our 
 pillars, like Hercules, and return home. We had 
 now, upon the whole, been out about sixteen weeks, 
 including going and returning, and had travelled at 
 least six hundred miles, and no small part of that 
 distance on foot. Below, towards the seaside, our 
 course lay through marshes, swamps, and great 
 waters ; and above, over steep hills, craggy rocks 
 and thickets, hardly penetrable. Notwithstanding 
 this variety of hardships, we may say, without 
 vanity, that we faithfully obeyed the king's orders, 
 and performed the business effectually, in which we 
 had the honour to be employed. Nor can we by 
 any means reproach ourselves of having put the 
 crown to any exorbitant expense in this difficult 
 affair, the whole charge, from beginning to end, 
 amounting to no more than one thousand pounds. 
 But let no one concerned in this painful expedition 
 complain of the scantiness of his pay, so long as his 
 majesty has been graciously pleased to add to our 
 reward the honour of his royal approbation, and to 
 declare, notwithstanding the desertion of the Caro- 
 lina commissioners, that the line by us run shall 
 hereafter stand as the true boundary betwixt the 
 governments of Virginia and North Carolina, 
 
JAMES LOGAN. 
 
 77 
 
 There are two other sketches of Old Virginia 
 travel in the volume of the Westover Manuscripts ; 
 — one of a Progress to the Mines in the year 
 1732, and another in the following year of A 
 Journey to the Land of Eden, which possess the 
 same pleasant characteristics of adventure, per- 
 sonal humor, and local traits. 
 
 JAMES LOGAN. 
 James Logan, the founder of the Loganian 
 Library of Philadelphia, was a man of note in 
 his literary and scientific accomplishments and 
 writings. He was born in Ireland in 1674; was 
 a good scholar in the classics and mathematics in 
 his youth, was for a while a teacher, then engaged 
 in business, when he fell in with Penn, and came 
 over with him to America as his secretary in 1699. 
 He rose to the dignities of Chief Justice and 
 President of the Council. He continued the 
 administration of Penn to the satisfaction of the 
 colony. . As a testimony of the. respect in which 
 he was held by the Indians, the chief, Logan, 
 celebrated for his speech presented in Jefferson's 
 Notes on Virginia, was named after him. 
 
 James Logan. 
 
 In 1735, he communicated to Peter Collinson, 
 of London, an account of his experiments on 
 maize, with a view of investigating the sexual 
 doctrine, which was printed in the Philosophical 
 Transactions.* This was afterwards enlarged, 
 and printed in a Latin essay at Leyden, in 1739, 
 with the title Experimenta et Meletemata de 
 Plantarum Generatione, and republished in Lon- 
 don, with an English translation, by Dr. Fother- 
 gill, in 17-17. He also published at Amsterdam, 
 in 1740, Epistola ad Viruin Clarissimum Joan- 
 nem Albertum Fabricium, and at Leyden, in 
 1741, Demonstrationes de Iiadiorum Lucis in 
 Superficies spherical ah A.re incidentium a pri- 
 mario Foco Aberrationibus. 
 
 He passed his old age in retirement, at his 
 country seat named Stenton, near Germantown, 
 penning the translation of Cicero's De Senectute, 
 to which he added extensive familiar notes. The 
 first edition, a very neat specimen of printing,! 
 was published by his friend Franklin in 1744, 
 with this preface : — ■ 
 
 * Miller's Retrospect, i. 134. 
 
 t M. T. Cicero's Cato Major, or his Discourse of Old Age: 
 with Explanatory Notes. Philadelphia: Printed and Sold by 
 B. Franklin. 1744. 4to. pp. 159. 
 
 THE PRINTER TO THE READER. 
 
 This version of Cicero's tract De Senectute was 
 made ten years since, by the honorable and learned 
 Mr. Logan, of this city; undertaken partly for his 
 own amusement (being then in his 60th year, which 
 is said to be nearly the age of the author when he 
 wrote it), but principally for the entertainment of a 
 neighbor, then in his grand climacteric ; and the 
 notes were drawn up solely on that neighbor's ac- 
 count, who was not so well acquainted as himself 
 with the Roman history and language ; some other 
 friends, however (among whom I had the honor to 
 be ranked), obtained copies of it in MS. And, as I 
 believed it to be in itself equal at least, if not far 
 preferable to any other translation of the same 
 piece extant in our language, besides the advantage 
 it has of so many valuable notes, which at the same 
 time they clear up the text, are highly instructive 
 and entertaining, I resolved to give it an impression, 
 being confident that the public would not unfavor- 
 ably receive it. 
 
 A certain freed-mau of Cicero's is reported to 
 have said of a medicinal well, discovered in his 
 time, wonderful for the virtue of its waters in restor- 
 ing sight to the aged, That it was a gift of the boun- 
 tiful Gods to men, to the end that all might now have 
 the pleasure of reading his Master's works. As that 
 well, if still in being, is at too great a distance for our 
 use, I have, gentle reader, as thou seest, printed this 
 piece of Cicero's in a large and fair character, that 
 those who begin to think on the subject of OLD 
 AGE (which seldom happens till their sight is some- 
 what impaired by its approach), may not, in read- 
 ing, by the pain small letters give to the eyes, feel 
 the pleasure of the mind in the least allayed. 
 
 I shall add to these few lines my hearty wish, that 
 this first translation of a classic in this Western 
 "World/* may be followed with many others, per- 
 formed with equal judgment and success; and be a 
 happy omen, that Philadelphia shall become the 
 seat of the American muses. 
 
 This was reprinted in London in 1750, at Glas- 
 gow in 1751, and in 1778, with Franklin's name 
 falsely inscribed on the title-page. Buckminster 
 reviewed this translation at length in the Monthly 
 Anthology,! with his accustomed scholarship, and 
 has given it the praise of being the best transla- 
 tion previous to that of Melmoth. The notes, 
 biographical and narrative, are entertaining, and 
 are taken from the original classics,' of which 
 Logan had a great store in his library. Buck- 
 minster suggests that " from their general com- 
 plexion, it would not be surprising if it should 
 prove that Dr. Franklin himself had occasionally 
 inserted some remarks. There is sometimes much 
 quaintness and always great freedom in the reflex- 
 ions, which, perhaps, betray more of Pagan than 
 of Christian philosophy ."J 
 
 Besides these writings, Logan made A Trans- 
 lation of Catd's Distichs into English verse, which 
 was printed at Philadelphia. He left behind him 
 in MS. part of an ethical treatise entitled, The 
 Ditties of Man as they may be deduced from 
 Nature; fragments of A Dissertation on the 
 Writings of Moses ; A Defence of Aristotle and 
 the Ancient Philosophers ; Essays on Languages 
 and the Antiquities of the British Isles; a trans- 
 
 * It had been preceded by Sandys, in his translation of Ovid, 
 ante. 1. 
 t V. 251. 810, 301. Memoi-s by Mrs. Lee, Sf-i 
 % Monthly Anthology, v. 305. 
 
78 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 lation of Maurocordatus 7ttpt, xa0r;xov?u,i; and of 
 Philo Judaeus's Allegory of the Esseans.* 
 
 Like Franklin, Logan was a diligent correspon- 
 dent with the learned scientific men of Europe. 
 Among his correspondents, says Mr. Fisher, who 
 speaks from acquaintance with his papers, were, 
 "in this country, Cadwallader Colden, Governor 
 Burnet, and Colonel Hunter, the accomplished 
 friendof Swift;t and in Europe, Collinson, Fother- 
 gill, Mead, Sir Hans Sloane, Flamsteed, Jones the 
 mathematician, father of the celebrated Sir "Wil- 
 liam Jones, Fabricius, Gronovius, and Linnaeus; 
 the last of whom gave the name of Logan to a 
 class in botany." 
 
 Logan was a man of general reading in the an- 
 cient and modern languages, and had formed for 
 himself a valuable library. He was making pro- 
 vision, at the time of his death, which occurred 
 October 31, 1751, to establish this collection of 
 books as a permanent institution, and confer it 
 upon the city, and had erected a building for the 
 purpose. His heirs liberally carried out his inten- 
 tions, and founded the Loganian Library at Phi- 
 ladelphia. It consisted at first of more than two 
 thousand volumes which Logan had collected, 
 chiefly Greek and Latin classics, and books in the 
 modern languages of the European continent. A 
 large collection of books was afterwards be- 
 queathed by Doctor William Logan, a younger 
 brother of the founder, who was for some time 
 librarian. The library remained unopened for 
 some time after the Revolution, when the legis- 
 lature of Pennsylvania, in 1792, annexed it to the 
 library company established by Franklin and his 
 associates. It then contained nearly four thou- 
 sand volumes. The collection has been kept 
 separate. It received a handsome accession of five 
 thousand volumes, by the bequest of William 
 Mackenzie, a Philadelphian, in 1828. 
 
 John Davis, in his Travels in America, speaks 
 of his visit to the Loganian Library in 1798, in 
 terms which remind us of the corresponding com- 
 pliment to Roscoe and the Liverpool Athenaeum 
 in the Sketch Booh. " I contemplated with 
 reverence the portrait of James Logan, which 
 graces the room — Magnum et venerabile nornsn. 
 I could not repress my exclamations. As I am 
 only a stranger, said I, in this country, I affect no 
 enthusiasm on beholding the statues of her Gene- 
 rals and Statesmen. I have left a church filled 
 with them on the shore of Albion that have a 
 prior claim to such feeling. But I here behold 
 the portrait of a man whom I consider so great a 
 
 * A Sketch of Logan's Career, by J. Francis Fisher, in 
 Bparks's Life of Franklin, vii. 24 — 27. A volnme of Memoirs 
 of Logan, by W. Arcnistead, was published in London in 1S52. 
 12mo.~pp. 192. 
 
 t When Swift was in London in 1708 and '9, "there was," 
 says Sir Walter Scott in his memoirs of that personage, "a 
 plan suggested, perhaps by Col. Hunter, governor of Virginia, 
 to send out Dr. Swift as bishop of that province, to exercise a 
 sort of metropolitan authority over the colonial clergy." Vol. 
 i. of works, 98. He was appointed Governor of Virginia in 
 1708, and was taken by the French on his voyage thither. 
 There is an amusing letter of Swift's to Hunter, in Paris, dated 
 January 12, 1708-9. Colonel Hunter arrived in America as 
 Governor of New York in 1710. In 1719 he returned to Eng- 
 land, and on the accession of George II. was continued Gover- 
 nor of New Tork and the Jerseys. He obtained, on account 
 of his health, the government of Jamaica, where he died in 
 1734 He was the author of a celebrated " Letter on Enthu- 
 siasm," ascribed to Swift ; and a farce, entitled Androboros, has 
 been attributed to him. Nichols's Lit Anecdotes of 18th Cen- 
 tury, vi. 89. 90. Beed's Biog. Dram. i. 250. Bancroft, iii. 64 
 
 benefactor to literature, that he is scarcely less 
 illustrious than its munificent patrons of Italy; 
 his soul has certainly been admitted to the com- 
 pany of the congenial spirits of a Cosmo and 
 Lorenzo of Medicis. The Greek and Roman 
 authors, forgotten on their native banks of the 
 Dyssus and Tiber, delight, by the kindness of a 
 Logan, the votaries to learning on those of the 
 Delaware."* 
 
 We take a single passage, characteristic of our 
 philosopher's pursuits, from his translation ot 
 Cicero : — 
 
 THE INTELLECTUAL DELIGHT OF AGE. 
 
 For hove solid, how sincere, think you, must that 
 pleasure be to the mind, when, after it has happily 
 worked through the ruffling tides of those uneasy 
 passions, lust, ambition, emulation, contention, and 
 every strong impetuous desire, it finds itself arrived 
 at its harbor, and like a veteran discharged from 
 the fatigues of war, got home, and retired within 
 itself into a stnte of tranquillity? But if it has the 
 farther advantage'of literature and science, and can 
 by that means feed on, or divert itself with some 
 useful or amusing study, no condition can be ima- 
 gined more happy than such calm enjoyments, in 
 the leisure and quiet of old age. How warm did we 
 see Gallus, your father's intimate friend, Scipio, in 
 pursuit of his astronomical studies to the last t 
 How often did the rising sun surprise him, fixed on 
 a calculation he began over night ? And how often 
 the evening, on what he had begun in the morning? 
 What a vast pleasure did it give him, when he 
 could foretell to us, when we should see the sun or 
 moon in an eclipse? And how many others have 
 we known in their old age delighting themselves in 
 other studies? which, though of less depth than 
 those of Gallus, yet must be allowed to be in them- 
 selves ingenious and commendable? How pleased 
 was Nfevius with his poem of the Punic war? And 
 how Plautus, with his Truculentus and Pseudolus ? 
 I remember even old Livius, who had his first 
 dramatic piece acted six years before I was born, in 
 the consulship of Cento and Tuditanus, and con- 
 tinued his compositions till I was grown up towards 
 the state of manhood. "What need I mention 
 Licinius Oassus's studies in the pontifical and civil 
 law? Or those of Publius Scipio, now lately made 
 supreme pontiff? And all these I have seen, not 
 only diverting themselves in old age, but eagerly 
 pursuing the several studies they affected. With 
 what unwearied diligence did we behold Marcus 
 Cethegus, whom Ennius justly enough called the 
 soul of persuasion, applying himself at a great age 
 to oratory, and the practice of pleading ? Upon all 
 which let me ask you, what gratifications of sense, 
 what voluptuous enjoyments in feasting, wine, 
 women, or play, and tne like, are to be compared 
 with those noble entertainments? Those pure and 
 serene pleasures of the mind, the rational fruits of 
 knowledge and learning, that grafted on a good 
 natural disposition, cultivated by a liberal educa- 
 tion, and trained up in prudence and virtue, are so 
 far from being palled in old age, that they rather 
 continually improve, and grow ' on the possessor. 
 Excellent, therefore, was that expression of Solon, 
 which I mentioned before, when he said, that daily 
 learning something, he grew old: for the pleasures 
 arising from such a course, namely, those of the 
 mind, must be allowed incomparaoly to exceed all 
 others. 
 
 * Travels, 40. 
 
ROGER WOLCOTT. 
 
 79 
 
 EOGEE WOLCOTT. 
 Roger Woloott was born at "Windsor, Conn., 
 Jan. 4, 1679. Owing to the unsettled state of the 
 country, and the constant incursions of Indians, 
 it was impossible to maintain a school or clergy- 
 man at that time in the little town, and Wolcott 
 was consequently deprived of the advantages of 
 early education. At the age of twelve he was 
 apprenticed to a mechanic. On becoming his 
 own master, at twenty-one, he was enabled to 
 
 Co-C^^ 
 
 establish himself on the banks of the Connecti- 
 cut, where, by diligence and frugality, he suc- 
 ceeded in acquiring a competence. In 1711 he 
 was appointed a commissary of the forces of the 
 colony in the attack on Canada, and he bore the 
 commission of major-general at the capture of 
 Louisbourg, in 1745. He was also prominent in 
 the civil service of the colony, and after passing 
 through various judicial and political grades of 
 office, was chosen governor from 1751 to 1754. 
 He died May 17, 1767, at the advanced age of 88. 
 He wrote A Brief Account of the Agency of the 
 Honorable John Winthrop, Esq., in the Court of 
 King Charles the Second, Anno Dom. 1662, when, 
 he obtained a Charter for the Colony of Connec- 
 ticut, a narrative and descriptive poem of 1500 
 lines, which has been printed in the Collections of 
 the Massachusetts Historical Society, and a small 
 volume of verse, in 1725, entitled, Poetical Medi- 
 tations, being the improvement of some Vacant 
 Hours* It is prefaced by a rambling dissertation, 
 chiefly on titles to land, by the Eeverend Mr. 
 Bulkley, of Colchester, in which he expresses the 
 opinion, that "the darling principle of man}', viz. 
 that native rightt is the only valuable title to any 
 lands in the country, is absurd and foolish, and 
 may with reason be look't upon as one of our 
 vulgar errors." This dissertation fills fifty-sis 
 pages, the poems which it preludes occupying but 
 seventy-eight, and these are flanked at the close 
 by the advertisement of Joseph Dewey, clothier, 
 who, " having been something at charge in pro- 
 moting the publishing the foregoing meditations," 
 takes the liberty to advertise his country people 
 touching certain rules which ought to be observed 
 in the making and working of cloth. 
 
 "Wolcott's verses are rude, but possess some 
 force. The lines we give are one of the briefest 
 of his "Meditations:" 
 
 Proverbs xviii. 14. 
 
 A WOUNDED SPIEIT, WHO CAK BEAE? 
 
 Money answers everything 
 But a Guilty Conscience sting, 
 "Whose immortal torments are 
 Quite insupportable to bear. 
 Nor the silver of Peru, 
 Nor the wealth the East do shew, 
 
 * Poetical Meditations, being tbe improvement of some 
 Vacant Hours, by Roger Wolcott. Esq., with a preface by the 
 Eeverend Mr. Bulkley, of Colchester. New London: printed 
 and sold by T. Green,' 1725. 
 
 t That of the aborigines. 
 
 Nor the softest bed of down, 
 
 Nor the jewels of a crown, 
 
 Can give unto the mind a power 
 
 To bear its twinges half an hour. 
 
 When God's iron justice onee 
 
 Seizeth on the conscience, 
 
 And in fearful, ample wise, 
 
 Lays before the sinner's eyes, 
 
 His life's horrible transgressions, 
 
 In their dreadful aggravations ; 
 
 And then for his greater aw, 
 
 In most ample forms doth draw 
 
 All the curses of his law ; 
 
 Then the worm begins to knaw, 
 
 And altho' it every hour 
 
 Doth the very soul devour, 
 
 Yet it nothing doth suffice ; 
 
 Oh ! this worm that never dies — 
 
 Oh ! the multitude of thought 
 
 Into which the sinner's brought ; 
 
 Looking up, he sees God's power, 
 
 Through his angry face doth lour; 
 
 And hath for his ruin join'd 
 
 Ten thousand chariots in the wind, 
 
 All prepar'd to glorify 
 
 The strong arm of the Most High, 
 
 By inflicting punishments 
 
 Equal to his vengeance. 
 
 Looking down, he amply seeth 
 
 Hell rowling in her flames beneath; 
 
 Enlarg'd to take his soul into 
 
 Its deep caverns full of wo : 
 
 Now the sinner's apprehension 
 
 Stretcheth large as hell's dimensions, 
 
 And doth comprehensively 
 
 Fathom out eternity. 
 
 The most extreme and vexing sense 
 
 Fasten eth on the conscience. 
 
 Fill'd with deepest agony, 
 
 He maketh this soliloquy : 
 
 View those torments most extreme, 
 
 See this torrid liquid stream, 
 
 In the which my soul must fry 
 
 Ever, and yet never dy. 
 
 When a thousand years are gone, 
 
 There's ten thousand coming on; 
 
 And when these are overworn, 
 
 There's a million to be born, 
 
 Yet they are not comprehended, 
 
 For they never shall be ended. 
 
 Now despair by representing 
 Eternity fill'd with tormenting, 
 By anticipation brings 
 All eternal sufferings 
 Every moment up at onee 
 Into actual sufferance. 
 Thus those pains that are to come, 
 Ten thousand ages farther down, 
 Every moment must be born 
 Whilst eternity is worn. 
 Every moment that doth come, 
 Snch torments brings ; as if the sum 
 Of all God's anger now were pressing, 
 For all in which I liv'd transgressing. 
 Yet the next succeeding hour, 
 Holdeth forth his equal power ; 
 And, succeeding with it, brings 
 Up the sum of sufferings. 
 Yet they are not comprehended, 
 For they never shall be ended. 
 
 For God Himself. He is but one, 
 Without least variation ; 
 Just what He was, is, is to come. 
 Always entirely the same. 
 
so 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Possessing His Eternity 
 Without succession instantly, 
 With whom the like proportion bears, 
 One day as doth a thousand years. 
 He makes the prison and the chain, 
 He is the author of my pain. 
 'Twas unto Him I made offence, 
 'Tis He that takes the recompence, 
 'Tis His design, my misery 
 Himself alone shall glorify ; 
 Therefore must some proportion bear 
 With Him whose glory they declare. 
 And so they shall, being day and night 
 Unchangeable and infinite. 
 
 These very meditations are 
 
 Quite unsupportable to bear: 
 
 The fire within my conscience 
 
 Is grown so fervent and intense 
 
 I cannot long its force endure, 
 
 But rather shall my end procure ; 
 
 Griesly death's pale image lies 
 
 On my ghastly, piercing eyes. 
 
 My hands, made fo^ my life's defence, 
 
 Are ready to do violence 
 
 Unto my life: And send me hence, 
 
 Unto that awful residence. 
 
 There to be fill'd with that despair, 
 
 Of which the incipations are, 
 
 A. wounded spirit none can bear. 
 
 But, oh ! my soul, think once again. 
 That there is for this burning pain, 
 One only medicine Sovereign. 
 Christ's blood will fetch out all this fare 
 If that God's Spirit be the applyer. 
 Oh ! then my soul, when grief abounds, 
 Shroud thyself within these wounds; 
 ■And that thou there may'st be secure, 
 Be purified as he is pure. 
 
 And oh ! my God, let me behold Thy Son, 
 
 Impurpled in his crucifixion, 
 
 With such an eye of faith that may from 
 
 thence, 
 Derive from Him a gracious influence, 
 To cure my sin and wounded conscience. 
 There, there alone, is healing to be had: 
 Oh! let me have that Balm of Gilead. 
 
 CADWALLADEE COLDEN. 
 Cadwallader Colden, who heads with honor 
 the ranks of the authors of the State of New York, 
 unless we except the previous compositions in the 
 Dutch language, the political tract of Van der 
 Donck, the satire of the Breeden Raedt, and an 
 account of the Maquaas Indians, in Latin, by Me- 
 gapolensis,* was the son of the Rev. Alexander 
 
 * Adrian Van der Donck, a graduate of the University of 
 Lej'den, was appointed by the pafcroon of Rensselaerwick sheriff 
 of his colony, and came to New Netherlands in 1642. In 1648 
 we find a grant of land made to him as YonkerVan der Donck, 
 at Tonkevs on the Hudson, Tonker being the usual title of 
 gentleman. His name appears as one of the eleven signers of 
 a tract of fifty pages quarto, published at the Hague'in 1650, 
 entitled, Vertoqyh van Nimiio Nedr-rlandt ; Representation 
 from New Netherland, concerning the situation, fruitfulness, 
 and poor condition of the same. It is addressed to the West 
 India Company as a petition for changes in the government of 
 Kieft and Stuyvesant. It has been translated by Mr. Henry 
 C. Murphy for the New York Historical Society, aud pub- 
 lished by them and also by Mr. James Lenox of "this city, in 
 a quarto edition for private circulation. In consequence 
 of its attacks on the government Van der Donck was denied 
 access to the colonial records during the preparation of his 
 Description of New Netherlands, a work the translation of 
 which occupies lu6 pages of the New York Historical Society's 
 
 Colden, of Dnnse, Scotland, where he was born 
 February 17, 1688. He was prepared, by the pri- 
 vate instructions of his father, for the University 
 of Edinburgh, where he was graduated in 1705. 
 He devoted the three following years to medical 
 and mathematical studies, when he emigrated to 
 Pennsylvania and practised physic with great 
 success in Philadelphia until 1715. At that time 
 he visited London, and there became acquainted 
 with Halley, the astronomer, who was so well 
 pleased with a paper on Animal Secretions, 
 written by Colden some years before, that he read 
 it before the Royal Society, by whom the pro- 
 duction was received with equal favor. In 1716 
 he returned to America, having in the mean- 
 time married in Scotland a young lady of the 
 name of Christie. 
 
 He settled in New York in 1718, where he 
 soon abandoned his profession for the service of 
 the State, filling in succession the offices of sur- 
 veyor-general of the province, master in chancery, 
 member of the council, and lieutenant-governor. 
 In 1756 he removed with his family to a tract of 
 land on the Hudson, near Newburgh, which he 
 named Coldenham. He was appointed lieutenant- 
 governor of the province in 1760, and retained 
 the office until his death, September 21, 1776, 
 having been several times called upon to act as 
 governor in consequence of the death or retire- 
 ment of various occupants of the office. 
 
 Collections, 1841. It contains an account of the rural products, 
 animals, and inhabitants of the Colony. The date of the first 
 edition is unknown. The second appeared at Amsterdam in 
 1656, bv Evert Nieuwenhof, who introduces the work with a 
 poetical preface. The Breeden-Ilaedt (Broad Advice to the 
 United Netherland Provinces, by J. A., G. W. C, Antwerp, 
 1649), is a coarse but to some extent amusing satire, growing 
 out of the disaffection to the Colonial Government. The Rev. 
 Johannes Megapolensis, the ''Dominie" of the colony ofRens- 
 selaerwick, where he officiated from his arrival in New Nether- 
 lands August, 1642, wrote in 1644, and published in 1651, a 
 tract on the Maquaas Indians, — a translation of which was pub- 
 lished in Hazard's Historical Collections (Phila. 1792), vol. i. 
 p. 517, where it occupies eight quarto pages. Megapolensis's 
 activity as a missionary among the Indians furnished 
 him with excellent opportunities for observing their pecu- 
 liarities. In 1649 he became pastor of the Church of New 
 Amsterdam. His name appears frequently in the city annals 
 down to the time of the surrender to the English. 
 
THOMAS PRINCE. 
 
 81 
 
 Colden was the author of the History of the 
 Five Indian Nations* The object of this work 
 was to call attention to the importance of Indian 
 affairs in reference to commerce. It contains a 
 brief history of the intercourse between the 
 aborigines and the Europeans from the settlement 
 of the country to the period of its publication in 
 1727. It was reprinted at London in 1747, with 
 the addition of a number of treaties and other 
 documents, and the remarkable transfer by the 
 London publisher of the dedication from Governor 
 Burnet to General Oglethorpe.t a liberty at which 
 Colden was justly indignant. A third edition, in 
 two neat 12mo. volumes, appeared at London in 
 1755 He also wrote a philosophical treatise, 
 published in 1751, entitled, The Principles of 
 Action in Matter. He printed in 1742, a tract 
 on a fever which had recently ravaged the city 
 of New York, in which he showed how greatly 
 the deadly effects of disease were enhanced by 
 filth, stagnation, and foul air, pointing out those 
 portions of the city which most needed purifica- 
 tion. The corporation voted him their thanks, 
 and carried out many of his sanitary suggestions 
 with good effect. Colden took a great interest 
 in the study of botany, and was the first to intro- 
 duce the Linnaean system in America, a few 
 months after its publication in Europe. His 
 acquaintance with Kalm, the Swedish traveller, a 
 pupil of the great naturalist, may have aided him 
 in the prosecution of his inquiries. His essay 
 On the Virtues of the Great Water Dock led to 
 a correspondence with Linnaeus, who included an 
 account of between three and four hundred 
 American plants, furnished by Colden, and about 
 two hundred of which were described for the 
 first time in the Acta Upsala, and afterwards 
 bestowed the name of Coldenia on a plant of the 
 tetrandrous class, in honor of his American 
 disciple. Colden maintained an active corres- 
 pondence from the year 1710 to the close of 
 his life, with the leading scientific men of 
 Europe and America. Franklin was among the 
 most constant as well as celebrated of these 
 correspondents, and it was to this friend that 
 Colden communicated one of his most valu- 
 able inventions, that of the art of stereotyp- 
 ing. The letter is dated October, 1743. It is 
 probable that Franklin may have conversed on 
 the subject in France, and that thus the hint of 
 the process was communicated to the German, 
 Herhan, who in the commencement of the pre- 
 sent century carried it into successful practice 
 in Paris, and obtained the credit of being its 
 originator. 
 
 * The History of the Five Indian Nations of Canada, which 
 are dependent on the Province of New York in America, and 
 are the Barrier between the English and the French in that 
 part of the world, with particular accounts of their religion, 
 manners, easterns, laws, and forms of government ; their 
 several battles and treaties with the European nations ; their 
 wars with other iDdians; and a true account of the present 
 6tate of our trade with them. In which are shewn the great 
 Advantage of their Trade and Alliance to the British nation, 
 and the Intrigues and attempts of the French to encage them 
 from us; a subject nearly concerning all our American Planta- 
 tions, and highly meriting the attention of the British nation 
 at this juncture. To which are added. Accounts of the several 
 other Nations of Indians in North America, their numbers, 
 strength, &c., and the Treaties which have been lately made 
 with them. 3rd edit., London, 1755. 
 
 t Rich, Bibl. Amer. The additions seem also to have been 
 without the author's sanction. " I send you herewith, 1 ' Frank- 
 lin writes to Colden from Philadelphia, Oct. 1, 1747, "The 
 VOL. I. — 6 
 
 In the correspondence of Jefferson there is a 
 letter, in which, writing to Francis Hopkinson, ha 
 says, " Many years ago Cadwallader Colden wrote 
 a very small pamphlet on the subjects of attrac- 
 tion and impulsion, a copy of which he sent to 
 Monsieur de Buffon. He was so charmed with 
 it, that he put it into the hands of a friend to 
 translate it, who lost it. It has ever since 
 weighed on his mind, and he has made repeated 
 trials to have it found in England."* 
 
 The unpublished Colden Papers,t embracing a 
 large Correspondence and a number of treatises 
 and notes on historical and philosophical topics, 
 now form part of the valuable manuscript Collec- 
 tions of the New York Historical Society. The 
 value of these papers as records of the ante- 
 revolutionary period has been tested by Mr. Ban- 
 croft, who acknowledges his indebtedness to this 
 source in the preface to the sixth volume of his 
 History. 
 
 THOMAS PRINCE. 
 
 Thomas Peince, a grandson of John Prince, of 
 Hull, who emigrated to America in 1633, was 
 
 '77H O m.Co 
 
 r~ t n.c « . 
 
 born in Sandwich, Massachusetts, May 15, 1687. 
 He graduated at Harvard in 1707, and in 1709 
 visited Europe, and preached for several j'ears at 
 Comb3 in Suffolk. He was urged to remain 
 longer, but returned to Boston in July, 1717, and 
 was ordained pastor of the Old South Church, as 
 colleague of his class-mate, Dr. Sewall, October 1, 
 1718, where he remained until his death, October 
 22, 1758. 
 
 He commenced in 1703, and continued during 
 his life, to collect documents relating to the 
 history of New England. He left the valuable 
 collection of manuscripts thus formed, to the care 
 of the Old South Church. They were deposited 
 in an apartment in the tower, which also con- 
 tained a valuable library of the writings of the 
 early New England Divines, formed by Mr. 
 Prince, where they remained until the manuscripts 
 were destroyed by the British, during their oc- 
 cupation of the city in the revolutionary war. 
 The books were preserved, and are now deposited 
 in the library of the Massachusetts Historical 
 Society. 
 
 Mr. Prince was the author of a Chronological 
 History of New England, in the form of annals, 
 the first volume of which was published in a 
 duodecimo form in 1736, and two numbers of 
 the second in 1755. He unfortunately com- 
 menced with an epitome of history from the 
 creation, on which he bestowed much time, which 
 might have been better employed on his specific 
 object, that of presenting a brief narrative of 
 occurrences in New England, from 1602 to 1730. 
 His work unfortunately does not come down later 
 than the year 1633. 
 
 History of the Five Nations. You will perceive that Osborne, 
 to puff up the book, has inserted the charters, Ac., of this 
 province, all under the title of ' The History of the Five 
 Nations. 1 " — Sparks's Franklin, vii. IS. 
 
 * Jefferson's Works, i. 392. 
 
 + Biographical Sketches of Colden, bv J. W. Francis. — Am. 
 Med. & Philos. Reg., Jan. 1811. Eedfleld's Family Magazine, 
 183S, v. 834 O'Callaghan's Doc. Hist N. Y., 4to. ill. 495. 
 
82 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 He also prepared, in 1727, an account of the 
 English Ministers at Martha's Vineyard, which 
 was annexed to Mayhew's Indian Converts, and 
 published a large number of funeral and other 
 sermons. He was pronounced by Dr. Ohauncy 
 the most learned scholar, with the exception of 
 Cotton Mather, in New England, and maintained 
 a high reputation as a preacher, and as a devout 
 and amiable man. Six of his manuscript sermons 
 were published after bis death, by Dr. John 
 Erskine, of Edinburgh. 
 
 WILLIAM AND MART COLLEGE. 
 
 At an early period in the settlement of Virginia 
 attempts were made to establish an institution of 
 learning. In 1619, the treasurer of the Virginia 
 company, Sir Edmund Sandys, received from an 
 unknown hand five hundred pounds, to be ap- 
 plied by the company to the education of a cer- 
 tain number of Indian youths in the English 
 language and in the Christian religion. Other 
 sums of money were also procured, and there was 
 a prospect of being. able to raise four or five 
 thousand pounds for the endowment of a col- 
 lege. The king favored the design, and recom- 
 mended to the bishops to have collections made 
 in their dioceses, and some fifteen hundred pounds 
 were gathered on this recommendation. The col- 
 lege was designed for the instruction of English 
 as well as Indian youths. The Company appro- 
 priated ten thousand acres of land to this purpose 
 at Henrico, on the James river, a little below the 
 present site of Richmond. The plan of the col- 
 lege was to place tenants at halves on these 
 lands, and to derive its income from the profits. 
 One hundred tenants was the number fixed upon, 
 and they calculated the profits of each at five 
 pounds. George Thorpe was sent out with fifty 
 tenants, to act as deputy for the management of 
 the college property ; and the Rev. Mr. Copeland, 
 a man every way qualified for the office, consented 
 to be president of the college as soon as it shoidd 
 be organized. Mr. Thorpe went out in 1621, but 
 had hardly commenced operations when, with 
 nearly all his tenants, he was slain by the Indians 
 in the groat Massacre of 1622, and the project of 
 a college was abandoned.* 
 
 The early American colleges grew out of the reli- 
 gious feeling, of the country, and the necessity of 
 a provision for a body of educated clergy. We 
 have seen this at Harvard, and it was the preva- 
 lent motive for a long time at Yale. In the act 
 of the Assembly of Virginia, in 1660, previous 
 to the foundation of William and Mary, express 
 allusion is made to the supply of the ministry and 
 promotion of piety, and the lack of able and faith- 
 ful clergy. The attempt at this time to found a 
 college failed from the royal governor's discou- 
 ragement to the enterprise. It was the state 
 policy. In his Answers to Questions put by the 
 Lords of Plantations in 1671, Sir William Berkeley 
 " thanks God that there are no free schools nor 
 printing" in the colony, and hopes " there will not 
 be these hundred years.''t 
 
 * Stith'sHist. ofVa. 162. 
 
 t Answers of Sir William Berkeley to the inquiries of the 
 Lords of the Committee of Colonies. From Virg. Pap. 75 B. 
 p. 4. Printed in Chalmers's Political Annals, p. 828, para- 
 "123:— 
 
 In 1692, a charter was obtained from the 
 Government in England, through the agency of 
 the Rev. Jame3 Blair, and the assistance of 
 Nicholson, the lieut.-governor of the colony.* 
 The new institution took its name from the royal 
 grantore, who appropriated funds, land, and a 
 revenue duty on tobacco for its support. Build- 
 ings were erected, and Blair became its president. 
 The first building erected at Williamsburgh was 
 burnt in 1705. By the bounty of Queen Anne, 
 and the assistance of the House of Burgesses, and 
 the exertions of Governor Spotswood, it was not 
 long after restored. In the square in front of 
 this building still stands, in a mutilated condition, 
 though with evidence of its old elegance, a statue 
 of Lord Botetourt, ordered by the colony, in 
 1771, in gratitude for his administration of the 
 government. 
 
 William and Mary College. 
 
 In 1718, a thousand pounds were granted to 
 the college for the support (as the grant runs) of 
 as many ingenious scholars as they should see fit. 
 A part of this was laid out for the Nottoway 
 estate, out of the income of which several 
 scholars were supported who were designated 
 students on the Nottoway foundation. Thi3 
 estate was sold in 1777. The remainder of the 
 grant supported the Assembly scholarship. 
 
 Robert Boyle, the philosopher, who died in 
 1691, left his whole estate, after his debts and 
 legacies should be disposed of by his executors, 
 for such pious uses as in their discretion they 
 should think fit, but recommended that it should 
 be expended for the advancement of the Christian 
 religion. The executors, who were the Earl of 
 Burlington, Sir Henry Ashurst, and John Marr, 
 laid out £5,400 for the purchase of the property 
 known as the Brafferton estate, the yearly rent 
 of which was to be applied towards "the pro- 
 pagating the Gospel among infidels." Of this 
 income, £90 was appropriated to New England — 
 
 "23. The same course is taken here, for instructing the 
 people, as there is in England: Out of towns every man in- 
 structs his own children according to his own ability. We 
 have forty-eight parishes, and our ministers are well paid, and 
 by my consent should be better, if they would pray oftener, 
 and preach less. But as of all other commodities, so of this, 
 the worst are sent us, and we have few that we can boast of, 
 since the persecution in Cromwell's tyranny drove divers 
 worthy men hither. Yet, I thank God, there are no freo 
 schools nor printing; and 1 hope we shall not have these hun- 
 dred years. For learning has brought disobedience, and 
 heresy, and sects, into the world, and printing has divulged 
 them and libels against the best government; God keep us 
 from both ! 
 
 "William Beekelet. 
 
 " VmGlNiA, 20 June, 1671." 
 
 * Beverley, Hist Ta, 88. 
 
WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE. 
 
 83 
 
 one half for the support of two missionaries 
 among the Indians, and the other to be given "to 
 the President and Fellows of Harvard College for 
 the salaries of two ministers to teach the said 
 natives, in or near the said college, the Christian 
 religion." The remainder of the income of the 
 estate was given to the College of William and 
 Mary, -on condition of supporting one Indian 
 scholar for every fourteen pounds received. A 
 house was built for this purpose on the grounds 
 atWilliamsburgh, as a school for Indian boys and 
 their master, which still bears upon it the date 
 of 1723. It was called, after the estate, Braffer- 
 ton — the title of the incumbent was Master of the 
 Indian School. The experience with the Indians 
 of the south does not appear to have varied 
 much from that of Eliot and his friends in the 
 north. Indians, however, were taught in it as 
 late as 1774. Hugh Jones, the chaplain of the 
 Assembly, who was also mathematical professor 
 at the college, in his volume entitled, " The Pre- 
 sent State of Virginia," says of this attempt — 
 "The young Indians, procured from the tribu- 
 tary or foreign nations with much difficulty, were 
 formerly boarded and lodged in the town, where 
 abundance of them used to die, either through 
 sickness, change of provision and way of life ; 
 or, as some will have it, often for want of pro- 
 per necessaries and due care taken with them. 
 Those of them that have escaped well, and been 
 taught to read and write, have, for the most part, 
 returned to their home, some with and some 
 without baptism, where they follow their own 
 savage customs and heathenish rites. A few of 
 them have lived as servants among the Eng- 
 lish, or loitered and idled away their time in 
 laziness and mischief. But 'tis a great pity that 
 more care is not taken about them after they 
 are dismissed from school. They have admirable 
 capacities when their humors and tempers are 
 perfectly understood."* 
 
 Colonel William Byrd, in 1728, laments the 
 " bad success Mr. Bojde's charity has hitherto had 
 towards converting any of these poor heathens to 
 Christianity. Many children of our neighboring 
 Indians have been brought up in the college of 
 William and Mary. They have been taught to 
 read and write, and have been carefully instructed 
 in the principles of the Christian religion till they 
 came to be men. Yet, after they returned home, 
 instead of civilizing and converting the rest, 
 they have immediately relapsed into infidelity 
 and barbarism themselves." Of the efforts of 
 Colonel Spotswood in this behalf, Byrd preserves 
 the following epigram : — 
 
 * P. 92. The whole title of this work sufficiently describes 
 its contents: — The Present State of Virginia: giving a particu- 
 lar and short account of the Indian, English, and Negro inha- 
 bitants of that colony. Shewing their Religion, Manners, 
 Government, Trade, Way of Living, &c, with a description of 
 the Country, from whence is inferred a short View of Mary- 
 land and North Carolina. To which are added, Schemes and 
 Propositions for the better Promotion of Learning, Religion, 
 Inventions, Manufactures and Trade in Virginia, and the other 
 Plantations. For the Information of the Curious and for tho 
 Service of such as are Engaged in the Propagation of the Gos- 
 pel and Advancement of Learning, and for the Use of all Per- 
 sons concerned in the Virginia Trade and Plantation. Gen. ix. 
 27, God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents 
 of Shem, and Canaan shall be his Servant. By Hugh Jones, 
 A.M., Chaplain to the Honourable Assembly, and lately Minis- 
 ter of James-Town, &c., in Virginia. London: Printed for J. 
 Clarke, at the Bible, under the Royal Exchange, hdcoxxiv. 
 8vo. pp. 152. 
 
 Long has the furious priest assayed in vain, 
 With sword and figgot, infidels to gain, 
 But now the milder soldier wisely tries 
 By gentler methods to unveil their eyes. 
 Wonders apart, he knew 'twere vain t'engage 
 The fix'd preventions of misguided age. 
 With fairer hopes he forms the Indian youth 
 To early manners, probity and truth. 
 The lion's whelp thus, on the Lybian shore, 
 Is tamed and gentled by the artful Moor, 
 Not the grim sire, inured to blood before.* 
 
 The old story of the fading race, and pretty 
 much the same whether related by South Ameri- 
 can Jesuits, Virginia cavaliers, or New England 
 zealots. Philip Freneau has pointed the moral in 
 his poem of the Indian Student, who, 
 
 laid his Virgil by 
 To wander with his dearer bow. 
 
 Though little good may have been effected for the 
 Indians, the scheme may have brought with it 
 incidental benefit. The instruction of the Indian 
 was the romance of educational effort, and acted 
 in enlisting benefactors much as favorite but im- 
 practicable foreign missions have done at a later 
 day. It was a pian of a kindred character with 
 this in Virginia which first engaged the benevo- 
 lent and philosophic Berkeley in his eminent 
 services to the American colleges. One of these 
 institutions, Dartmouth, grew out of such a foun- 
 dation. 
 
 The first organization of the college was under 
 a body of Visitors, a President, and six Profes- 
 sors. The Visitors had power to make laws for 
 the government of the college, to appoint the 
 professors and president, and fix the amount of 
 their salaries. The Corporation was entitled The 
 President and Master, or Professors of William and 
 "Mary College. There were two Divinity Professor- 
 ships — one of Greek and Latin, one of Mathema- 
 tics, one of Moral Philosophy, and Boyle's Indian 
 professorship was a sixth. The college had a 
 representative in the General Assembly. In its 
 early history it was a subject of complaint that it 
 was too much a school for children, the rudiments 
 of Latin and Greek being taught there. The old 
 colonial administration lent its picturesque dignity 
 to the college. As a quit-rent for the land 
 granted by the Crown, two copies of Latin verses 
 were every year presented to the Royal Governor. 
 This was done sometimes with great ceremony, the 
 students and professors marching in procession to 
 the palace, and formally delivering the lines. At 
 tho Revolution, tho endowments of the college un- 
 derwent great changes. The war put an end to the 
 colonial revenue' taxes for the college support ; the 
 Brafferton fund in England disappeared ; and 
 after the peace the loss of the old Church and 
 State feeling was shown in an act of the visitors 
 abolishing the two Divinity Professorships, and 
 substituting others for them. On tho breaking 
 out of the Revolution, one half of the students, 
 among whom was James Monroe, entered tho 
 army. 
 
 The French troops occupied the College build- 
 ings, or a part of them, after the surrender of 
 Lord Cornwallis, and while they had possession, 
 the president's house was burnt. The French 
 
 * Westover Manuscripts, 86-7. 
 
84 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 government promptly paid for rebuilding it. The 
 college building was occupied as a hospital at the 
 same time, and much damaged and broken up, 
 but the United States government has never made 
 an}' remuneration. 
 
 The following is a complete list of the college 
 Presidents, in the order of their succession, with 
 the periods of their incumbency : — The Rev. 
 James Blair, from the foundation to his death, in 
 1743 ; the Rev. William Dawson till 1752 ; Wil- 
 liam Stith till 1755 ; Thomas Dawson till 1761 ; 
 William Yates till 1764; James Horrocks till 
 1771 ; John Camm till 1777; James Madison, till 
 his death, in 1812; John Bracken till 1814; John 
 Augustine Smith till 1826; the Rev. W. H. Wil- 
 mer, till his death, in 1827; the Rev. Adam 
 Empie till 1836; Thomas R. Dew, till his death, 
 in 1846; Robert Saunders till 1848; Benjamin 
 S. Ewell till 1849; Bishop John Johns till 1854; 
 and Benjamin S. Ewell, the present occupant. 
 
 Dr. Blair was a Scotchman by birth, was edu- 
 cated in Scotland, and took orders in the Scottish 
 Episcopal Church. He went to England towards 
 the close of the reign of Charles II., and was per- 
 suaded by the Bishop of London to emigrate to 
 Virginia about the year 1685, and was probably 
 employed as a missionary, as there is no record 
 of his having been connected with any parish till 
 as late as 1711, when he was made Rector of 
 Bristow parish in Williamsburgh. 
 
 In 1689, the Bishop of London appointed him 
 his Commissary in the colonies of Virginia and 
 Maryland, which office he continued to hold till 
 Ms death. In virtue of this office, he had a seat 
 in the Council of State, and received £100 per 
 annum as Councillor. Through his exertions, a 
 subscription of £2,500 was raised towards the 
 endowment of a college, and he was sent to Eng- 
 land by the GenerarAssembly in 1692, for the 
 purpose of soliciting a charter. The charter was 
 obtained, and he appointed President in the 
 charter itself. This office he held till the day of 
 his death, a period of fifty years. He died in 
 March, 1743, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. 
 He appears to have been a man of great energy 
 
 and perseverance. He had to contend with great 
 discouragements and difficulties during the wholo 
 of his course. He was opposed and thwarted in 
 his plans for the establishing and improvement 
 of the college by the royal governors, by the 
 council, and even by the clergy at times; but he 
 persevered through all discouragements. He 
 must also have been a man of great purity of 
 character, for in all the contests in which he was 
 engaged, his adversaries never reproached him 
 with any immorality. At one time a large ma- 
 jority of the clergy were arrayed against him. 
 They accused him of exercising his office in a 
 stern and haughty manner, but with nothing 
 further. The clergy were many of them men of 
 very questionable character — the very refuse of 
 the Established Church in England; and these 
 were not a little offended at the strictness of the 
 discipline he attempted to enforce. 
 
 Dr. Blair has left behind him three volumes of 
 Sermons, from texts selected from the Sermon on 
 the Mount. They are written in a lucid and 
 simple style, and are remarkable for their good 
 sense and practical character. Waterland edited 
 the Third Edition of these Sermons, printed in 
 London in 1741, and wrote a preface containing 
 a brief sketch of the author's life. He highly 
 commends the Sermons as both sound in doctrine 
 and felicitous in style. Such a commendation 
 from such an author is no small praise. There 
 is still extant another small work, which Dr. 
 Blair took part in compiling. It is entitled The 
 State of his Ifajesty's Colony in Virginia; by 
 Hartvvell, Blair, and Chilton: and gives an ac- 
 count of the soil, productions, religion, and laws 
 of the colony, with a particular account of the 
 condition of AVilliam and Mary College. It was 
 printed in 1727, but it bears strong internal 
 marks of having been drawn up about the vear 
 1699. 
 
 Dr. Blair was more than sixty years a clergy- 
 man, fifty-eight of which he spent in Virginia. 
 He was 'Commissary fifty-four years, and Presi- 
 dent of the college fifty years. His remains were 
 deposited in the churchyard at Jamestown, and 
 an inscription, alluding to his life and services, was 
 engraved on his tombstone. But the stone has 
 been broken, and the inscription is so damaged 
 that it cannot now be deciphered. He left 
 the whole of his library, consisting mostly of 
 works on divinity, to the college. These books 
 are still in the college library, and many of them 
 contain notes in his handwriting. 
 
 Of the successor of Dr. Blair but little is 
 known, further than that he was educated at 
 Oxford, and was accounted an able scholar. 
 Stith is only known from the History of Virginia, 
 which he began, but carried down no further 
 than to 1624. Thomas Dawson, the fourth Pre- 
 sident, was also the Commissary of the Bishop 
 of London. Yates was a clergyman in the 
 colony when he was called to the Presidency of 
 the college. 
 
 James Horrocks, if we may judge from certain 
 papers of his, drawn up in consequence of a dis- 
 pute between the Visitors and the Faculty, in 
 relation to the extent of their powers respectively, 
 was an able and vigorous writer. 
 
 Several clergymen of the province succeeded 
 Stith in the Presidency. Lord Botetourt, who 
 
i T ALE COLLEGE. 
 
 85 
 
 arrived as the royal governor in 1768, took much 
 interest in its affairs. He instituted prizes of gold 
 medals for the best Latin oration, and for superior- 
 ity in the mathematics, and attended the morning 
 and evening prayers.* 
 
 James Madison, in 1788 chosen Bishop of the 
 Episcopal Church in Virginia, was a Virginian 
 by birth, and a graduate of the college. He 
 was for several years Professor of Mathematics, 
 both before and after his occupation of the Pre- 
 sidency. He also gave lectures in natural, moral, 
 and political philosophy — first introducing the 
 study of political economy, which has since been 
 pursued in the college with much distinction. 
 Bishop Madison was a man of amiable character. 
 His lectures on Natural Philosophy were much 
 thought of. They have not been published. He 
 was a contributor to the Philosophical Trans- 
 actions. His delivery as a preacher was per- 
 fectly toned. 
 
 During the Presidency of Dr. John Augustine 
 Smith, an effort was made to remove the college 
 to Richmond. The discipline had become some- 
 what relaxed, and President Smith met with con- 
 siderable opposition in his measures to restore it. 
 Previously to his holding the office, Dr. Smith 
 had been a lecturer on anatomy in New York, in 
 the College of Physicians and Surgeons. In 1809, 
 he edited the New York Medical and Physical 
 Journal, in which he published a reply to the 
 work of Dr. Smith, of Princeton, on the Unity 
 of the Race. Since his retirement from the Pre- 
 sidency, he lias become a resident of New York, 
 where he has occasionally delivered metaphysical 
 and scientific lectures, which are included in his 
 volume, Prelections on some of the more important 
 s-ubjects connected with Moral and Physical 
 Science. 
 
 Thomas R. Dew, at the age of twenty-three 
 had occupied the chair of moral science in the 
 college, of which he was a graduate. He pub- 
 lished a volume on Slavery, in which he held the 
 views urged by Calhoun, and a volume of Lec- 
 tures on Ancient and Modern History. He died 
 suddenly at Paris, of an affection of the lungs, on 
 a second visit to Europe, in the summer of 1816. 
 Of the Professors, none was more distinguished 
 than William Small, who was Mr. Jefferson's 
 tutor in mathematics. He was not only an 
 eminent mathematician, but, as Mr. Jefferson 
 informs us, was possessed of a philosophic mind, 
 and of very extensive and accurate information 
 on a great variety of subjects. He went to Eng- 
 land some time before the Revolution, and never 
 returned, but became a distinguished mathemati- 
 cian in England. 
 
 The Professorship of Moral and Intellectual 
 Philosophy, Belles Lsttres, and Rhetoric, is at 
 present, in 1855, held by the Rev. Dr. Silas 
 Totten, formerly President of Washington College, 
 at Hartford. He has in preparation an Historical 
 Account of the College, an undertaking rendered 
 difficult by meagre and imperfect records ; but 
 his work will be an important one, from the con- 
 sideration of the men and times which will pass 
 under his view, and from the circumstance, that 
 what may be known of the institution has never 
 
 * Miller's Retrospect, ii. 873. 
 
 hitherto been properly narrated. It is to his kind 
 assistance, that we are indebted for much of the 
 information here presented. 
 
 Since the Law Department was added to the 
 college, there have been some eminent professors 
 ; of law. Wythe, Nelson, St. George, and Beverly 
 Tucker are among these. 
 
 Four Presidents of the United States, viz. Jef- 
 ferson, Madison, Monroe, and Tyler, were edu- 
 cated in the college. Chief Justice Marshall and 
 General Scott were also students of William and 
 Mary. 
 
 The secret literary society of the Phi Beta 
 Kappa originated at William and Mary, about 
 1775. The affiliated society of Harvard derived 
 its charter from that source. The original, how- 
 ever, was interrupted by the Revolutionary war. 
 
 When the college broke up in 1781, the records 
 of the society were sealed up and placed in the 
 hands of the college steward. Subsequently they 
 came into the possession of the Historical Society 
 of Virginia. On examination, it was found that 
 one of the old members, William Short, of Phila- 
 delphia, still survived in 1850. It was also dis- 
 covered that he was President of the Society 
 when it had been interrupted. Measures were 
 immediately taken to revive it in the college, 
 with Mr. Short as the connecting link with the 
 original society, and it is now in active operation, 
 with the old records restored to the college. 
 
 TALE COLLEGE. 
 
 Tnis institution dates its formal beginning from the 
 year 1700. As early as 1647, the people of New 
 Haven, at the instance of the Rev. John Daven- 
 port, who was eminent for his zeal in the cause 
 of education, undertook the enterprise of establish- 
 ing a college in that colony, but postponed it in 
 deference to the interests of Cambridge. In 1700 
 a meeting of ministers of Connecticut, represent- 
 ing, by general understanding, the churches and 
 people of the colony, took place at New Haven, 
 for the purpose of forming a college association. 
 ! This was arranged to consist of eleven clergymen, 
 living within the colony. The original parties* 
 shortly met again at Branford, when each mem- 
 ber brought a number of books and laid them 
 upon a table, with the declaration, " I give these 
 books for the founding a college in this colony." 
 About forty folios were thus deposited. An 
 application for a charter was made and granted 
 by the General Court in 1701. It had been at 
 first proposed that the objects of the college 
 should be especially theological. This pian, how- 
 ever, was modified to the design of " instructing 
 youth in the arts and sciences, who may be 
 fitted for public employments both in Church and 
 Civil State," though the religious instruction for 
 a long while practically predominated. The 
 creed of the Saybrook platform was adopted in 
 1708 by the agency of the trustees, and made 
 binding upon the officers of the college. 
 
 Abraham Pierson was made the first rector of 
 
 * Thev were James Noyes, of Stonintrton ; Israel Chauney, 
 of Stratford; Thomas Buckingham, of Saybrook; Abraham 
 Pierson, of KlUirjgworth ; Samuel Mather, of Windsor; 
 Samuel Andrew, of Milford; Timothy Woodbridfo, of Hart- 
 ford ; James Pierpont, of New Haven ; Noadiah Kussell, of 
 Middlotown; Joseph Webb, of Fairfield. To theso Samuel 
 Eussell, of Branford, was afterwards added. 
 
86 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the college, and instructed the students in his 
 house atKillingworth. The first Commencement 
 was held at Say brook, in 1702, with advanced 
 scholars, several of them from Harvard, of which 
 college Pierson was also a graduate. He continued 
 to receive his pupils at Killingworth, till his 
 death in 1707. He prepared a text-book for the 
 students in Natural Philosophy. The collegiate 
 school, as it was called, was now set up at Say- 
 brook, under the care of tutors, where the com- 
 mencements continued to be held, though the 
 Rev. Samuel Andrew, of Milford, rector pro tern., 
 instructed the senior class at his home. New 
 Haven and Hartford, too, had their claims for the 
 seat of the college. There was much agitation 
 of the matter, but it was finally carried in favor 
 of New Haven, in 1716.* The first Commence- 
 ment in New Haven was held in 1717. 
 
 Elibu Tale. 
 
 Elihu Yale, a native of the place, who had 
 left it in his boyhood, became possessed of great 
 wealth in the East Indies, and was created 
 Governor of Fort St. George, and had married, 
 moreover, an Indian fortune. On his return to 
 London, he contributed books and merchandise 
 to the college of his native town. The trustees 
 now took advantage of this prominent opportu- 
 nity to name the new college house after so 
 liberal a benefactor, and Tale College soon be- 
 came the name of the institution itself. Yale 
 " was a gentleman," says President Clap, in his 
 history of the college, " who greatly abounded in 
 good humour and generosity, as well as in 
 wealth.t The following is a copy of his epitaph 
 in the church-yard at Wrexham, Wales. 
 
 Under this tomb lyes interr'd Elihu Yale 
 of Place Gronow, Esq. ; born 5th April, 1048, 
 and dyed the 8th of July, 1721, aged 73 years. 
 
 Born in America, in Europe bred, 
 
 In Afric travell'd, and in Asia wed, 
 
 Where long he liv'd and thriv'd : at London dead. 
 
 Much Good, some 111 he did : so hope all's Even, 
 
 And that his soul thro' Mercy's gone to Heav'n. 
 Yon that survive and read, take care 
 For this most certain Exit to prepare, 
 
 * Wethersfield had its pretensions, and a number of students 
 having been educated there, under the care of Elisba Williams, 
 a commencement was held there and degrees conferred, which 
 were afterwards ratified at New Haven. To remove the library 
 from Savbrook to New Haven process was issued and the 
 sheriff resisted. Important papers, and two hundred and fifty 
 valuable volumes were lost to the college in the struggle. 
 — SaMimn's Hi-it. qf Yale, 1st Ed. p. 85. 
 
 t History of Yale College, 80. 
 
 For only the Actions of the Just, 
 Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 
 
 Under an engraved picture of Governor Yale, 
 sent to the cjllege at an early period, was the 
 following inscription in manuscript : — 
 
 Effigies clarissimi viri D. D. Elihu Yale 
 Londinensis, Armigeri. 
 En vir ! cui meritas laudes ob facta, per orbis 
 
 Extremos fines, inclyta fauna dedit. 
 jEquor arans tumidum, gnzas adduxit ab Indis, 
 
 Quas Ille sparsit munificante manu : 
 Inscitiaj tenebrns, ut noctis luce eorusca 
 
 Phoebus, ab oceiduis pellit et llle plagis. 
 Dum mens grata manet, nomen laudesque Yalenses 
 
 Cantabunt Soboles, unanimique Patees. 
 
 which the poet Percival has thus imitated. 
 
 Behold the man, for generous deeds renown'd, 
 
 Who in remotest regions won his fame: 
 With wise munificence he scattered round 
 
 The wealth that o'er the sea from India came. 
 From western realms he bids dark ignorance fly, 
 
 As flies the night before the dawning rays: 
 So long as grateful bosoms beat, shall high 
 
 Yaie's sons and pious fathers sing his praise.* 
 
 Jeremiah Dummer, of Boston, the agent of 
 Massachusetts in England, in 1714, had been an 
 earlier generous donor to the library. He gave, 
 or procured, some eight hundred valuable volumes. 
 The names of his friends who were associated 
 with him in the gift, impart to it additional 
 value. They were among the most distinguished 
 men of that day, and include Sir Isaac Newton, 
 Sir Richard Steele, Burnet, Woodward, Halley, 
 Bentley, Kennet, Calamy, Edwards, and Whis- 
 ton, who gave copies of their writings to the 
 collection. 
 
 When the college was thus established at New 
 Haven, the Rev. Timothy Cutler, of Stratford, 
 was chosen its Rector, and, as a compensation to 
 the people of the place he was leaving, the trus- 
 tees of Yale bought their minister from them, 
 paying for his house and lot, and giving them to 
 the town. A new difficulty now presented itself. 
 The orthodox Rector, with a tutor and two 
 neighboring clergymen, announced, in 1722, their 
 intention to give up New England theology for 
 Episcopal ordination in England. The discovery 
 was made at the time of Commencement, shortly 
 after which occasion, Gov. Saltonstall held a per- 
 sonal dispute on the subject with the recusant 
 Rector and one of his most distinguished asso- 
 ciates, the Rev. Samuel Johnson, of New Haven. 
 The trustees met, and voted that they " do excuse 
 the Rev. Mr. Cutler from all further service, as 
 Rector of Yale College." The connexion was at an 
 end. Mr. Cutler, with his friend Johnson, after- 
 wards President of Columbia College, and several 
 other of the New England clergy, went to Eng- 
 land, where he received the degree of Doctor in 
 Divinity from Oxford ; he returned to America, 
 and was rector, till his death, in 1765, of Christ 
 Church, in Boston. He was a loss to Yale, from 
 his strength of mind and his acquirements in 
 Oriental literature. He was, says President 
 Stiles, in his Diary, " a good logician, geographer, 
 
 * Ktnirsley's Sketch of Tale College. Am. Qnar. He?. viiL 
 19. Sketches of Tale College, with numerous anecdotes. 
 1S43, p. 28. 
 
YALE COLLEGE. 
 
 87 
 
 and rhetorician. In the philosophy and meta- 
 physics and ethics of his day, he was great. He 
 spoke Latin with great fluency and dignity, and 
 with great propriety of pronunciation. He was 
 a man of extensive reading in the academic 
 sciences, divinity, and ecclesiastical history; and 
 of a commanding presence and dignity in govern- 
 ment. He was of a lofty and despotic mien, and 
 made a grand figure at the head of a college."* 
 
 Mr. Andrew, of Milford, one of the trustees, 
 again took the management, as head of the col- 
 lege, fro tempore, till 1726, when the Rev. Elisha 
 Williams, of Wethersfield, became Rector, which 
 he continued till 1739. It was during this time that 
 Berkeley, afterwards the Bishop of Cloyne, made 
 his celebrated donations to the college, which, 
 with great liberality, he took under his particular 
 favor. He had become acquainted, at Newport, 
 R. I., with one of the trustees, the Rev. Jared Eliot, 
 and with the Rev. Samuel Johnson, of Stratford, 
 who called his attention to the wants of the col- 
 lega. On his return to England, in 1732, he gave 
 to the college a deed of his house and farm in New- 
 port, for the assistance of the three best scholars 
 in Latin and Greek who should reside at college 
 for nine months of each of the three years 
 between the first and second degrees. To deter- 
 mine the priority in scholarship, a special examina- 
 tion is to bo held annually, by the President and 
 senior Episcopal missionary within the colony. 
 If these do not agree, the choice is to be deter- 
 mined by lot. The persons selected are to be 
 called "scholars of the house." Any surplus 
 which may remain by vacancies is to be expend- 
 ed in Greek and Latin books, to be distributed as 
 prizes to undergraduates. Such were the pro- 
 visions of the settlement. The property does not 
 yield any considerable income, having been leased 
 for a long term at a time when money was of 
 more value than it is now. There have been a 
 number of successful applicants for " the dean's 
 bounty," who have afterwards become dis- 
 tinguished. Of these may be mentioned, Dr. 
 Wheelock, the first President of Dartmouth ; the 
 Rev. Aaron Burr, President of the College of 
 New Jersey; the Hon. Jared Ingersoll, Presi- 
 dents Daggett and Dwight, the Rev. Joseph 
 Buckminster, and the Hon. Abraham Baldwin. 
 The Berkeleian prizes have also reflected honor on 
 the college.t Berkeley also procured a choice 
 collection of books for the college — contributing 
 in all nearly a thousand volumes, including a set 
 of the Christian Fathers, a large representation 
 of the Greek and Latin Classics, and other well 
 chosen works, among which were Ben Jon- 
 son, Dryden and Pope, Butler and Wycherley. 
 When Rector Clap arranged the general collec- 
 tion, in 1742, he tells us, "in honour to the Rev. 
 Dr. Berkeley for his extraordinary donation, his 
 hooks stood by themselves, at the south end of 
 the library."]: 
 
 The career of Rector Williams was more varied 
 than falls to the lot of most college Presidents. 
 He was born in Massachusetts, and was a graduate 
 of Harvard. He passed from his parish duties at 
 
 * Appendix to Holmes's Stiles, 887. 
 
 + Prof. Kingsley's Sketch of the History of Yale College. 
 Am. Quar. Register, viii. 211. List of Scholars of the House 
 in Yale Lit. Mag. xvii. 190. 
 
 J Clap's History, 43. 
 
 Wethersfield to the Presidency of Yale. Com- 
 pelled to retire from the latter by ill health, ha 
 became member of the Connecticut House of Re- 
 presentatives and a Judge. In 1745 he revived 
 his clerical functions to become army chaplain in 
 the Cape Breton expedition. The next year he 
 was appointed colonel of a regiment in the expe- 
 dition against Canada. Going to England to 
 secure his half-pay, he married there and returned 
 to die at Wethersfield in 1755, at the age of sixty- 
 one. President Stiles, in his Literary Diary, 
 speaks of him as " a good classical scholar, well 
 read in logic, metaphysics and ethics, and in 
 rhetoric and oratory. He presided at commence- 
 ment with great honor. He spoke Latin freely, 
 delivered orations gracefully and with animated 
 dignity." 
 
 Williams was succeeded, in the year 1740, by the 
 Rev. Thomas Clap, who was withdrawn from the 
 ministry of Windham, the college as before buying 
 his time from the townspeople. The compensation 
 for loss of services was referred to three members 
 of the General Assembly, who " were of opinion, 
 that inasmuch as Mr. Clap had been in the 
 ministry at Windham fourteen years, which was 
 about half the time miuisters in general continue 
 in their public work ; the people ought to have 
 half as much as they gave him for a settlement ; 
 which, upon computation, was about fifty-three 
 pounds sterling."* Clap entered vigorously upon 
 the duties of the college, drew up a body of laws, 
 the books were catalogued, and a new charter 
 obtained, by which the Rector and Trustees 
 became entitled President and Fellows. 
 
 In 1747, a part of the means for erecting a new 
 college building, to accommodate the increasing 
 number of students, was raised by a lottery. The 
 preaching of Whitefield having agitated the popu- 
 lar faith, a theological professorship was founded, 
 which took its name from its first contributor, the 
 Hon. Philip Livingston, of New York. A new 
 confession was made of the college faith, according 
 to the Assembly's Catechism, Dr. Ames's Medulla 
 and Cases of Conscience, and the Rev. Naphtali 
 Daggett, from Long Island, was appointed Pro- 
 fessor of Divinity in 1755. In 1703, the question 
 whether the Legislature of the State had a right 
 to exercise visitatorial power over the college was 
 much agitated. President Clap argued that the 
 legislature, not being the founders, had no such . 
 power, and successfully maintained this position. 
 Difficulties in the discipline and administration of 
 the college led to the resignation of President 
 Clap in 1766. His death occurred a few months 
 after. He was a man of piety, and a diligent 
 head of his college, which greatly increased under 
 his administration of twenty-seven years. He 
 had been educated by Dr. M'Sparran, the mission- 
 ary clergyman of Rhode Island. His literary 
 accomplishments were large. He excelled espe- 
 cially in the Mathematics and Natural Philosophy 
 — and constructed the first orrery or planetarium 
 in America. He published a letter to Jonathan 
 Edwards, on the Whitefield matter. His other 
 publications were an essay on the Religious Con- 
 stitution of Colleges, 1754; a Vindication of the 
 Doctrines of the New England Churches, in 
 1755 ; an Essay on the Nature and Foundation 
 
 Clap's nistory of Yale College, 41. 
 
88 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of Moral Virtue and Obligation, in 1765 ; and 
 a History of Yale College in 1766.* His Con- 
 jectures on the Nature and Motion of Me- 
 teors above the Atmosphere, was issued posthu- 
 mously in 1781. He made collections for a His- 
 tory of Connecticut. His manuscripts, then in 
 the possession of his daughter, the wife of General 
 Wooster, were plundered in Tryon's expedition 
 against New Haven, and thrown overboard into 
 Long Island Sound. A few were picked up after 
 some days by boatmen, but most were lost. 
 
 Pre^dent Stiles has left a minute literary cha- 
 racter of him, in which he speaks enthusiastically 
 of the extent of his attainments ; his knowledge of 
 Newton's Principia ; his study of moral philoso- 
 phy in Wollaston, and of the ancient and modern 
 powers of Europe. Stiles, warming with the 
 recollections of his predecessor, describes his 
 habits of reading, by subjects rather than volumes 
 ■ — and his aspect, " light, placid, serene, and con- 
 templative," adding, "he was a calm, still, judi- 
 cious great man. v t 
 
 In 1767, Professor Daggett was chosen Presi- 
 dent pro tempore, and continued in this position 
 until 1777, when Dr. Ezra Stiles was elected Pre- 
 sident, Pres. Daggett continuing in his Chair of 
 Divinity. The latter was a man of worth and use- 
 fulness. "When the British took possession of 
 New Haven in 1779, he was taken by the enemy 
 wounded, with his musket in his hand, resisting 
 their advance. He was unhandsomely treated 
 with violence and personal injury by his captors.}: 
 His college Presidency is memorable in our nar- 
 rative for the presence in the college as pupils, of 
 Trumbull, Dwight, Humphreys, and Barlow. 
 
 Of Stiles and of Dwight, who succeeded with 
 bo much distinction to the college, something is 
 said on other pages of this book. The Presi- 
 dency of the former extended from 1777 to 1795 ; 
 of Dwight, from that date till 1817. The college 
 increased greatly in influence and resources at 
 these periods, after the interruption of the Revo- 
 lution. The personal influence of these men was 
 great. Dwight enlarged the scope of studies by 
 furthering the claims of general literature, in 
 which he was himself so accomplished a profi- 
 cient. The Professorships of Kingsley and Silli- 
 man were instituted during Dwight's adminis- 
 tration. 
 
 Jeremiah Day held the presidency from 1817 
 till his retirement in 184:6. He was born in New 
 Preston, Connecticut, in 1773, and in 1795 had 
 succeeded Dwight in the conduct of his school at 
 Greenfield Hill. He was a graduate of Yale, and 
 in 1801 had received the appointment of Professor 
 of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, which 
 he held till his election to the government of the 
 college. He has published several mathematical 
 treatises for students, which have been widely 
 circulated, and in 1838, An Inquiry Respecting 
 the Self-Determining Power of the Will ; or, Con- 
 
 * The Annals or History of Yale College, In New Haven, in 
 the Colony of Connecticut, from the first founding thereof in 
 the year 1700, to the year 1766: with an Appendix, containing 
 the present state of the College, the Method of Instruction 
 and Government, with the Officers, Benefactors, and Gradu- 
 ates. By Thomas Clap, A.M., President of the said College. 
 New Haven : Printed for John liotchkiss and B, Mecoin, 
 1766. 8vo. 
 
 t Appendix to Life of Stiles, by Holmes, S90. 
 
 i Baldwin's Hist. Tale Col. 1C3. 
 
 tingent Volition. 12mo. And in 1841, An Ex- 
 amination of Pres. Edwards's Inquiry on the 
 Freedom of the Will. 12mo. 
 
 Alexander Metcalf Fisher was the successor to 
 President Day in his Professorship. He was a 
 young man of high promise, and had already 
 made important contributions to mathematical 
 and physical science. His sudden death, at the 
 age of twenty-eight, in the shipwreck of the 
 Albion on the coast of Ireland, in 1822, when he 
 was on his voyage to Europe for the collection 
 of scientific materia^ and for self-improvement, 
 has lent additional interest to his memory. 
 
 Theodore Dwight Woolsey succeeded to Presi- 
 dent Day. He was born in New York in 1801, 
 the son of a merchant, and a nephew on the mo- 
 ther's side of President Dwight. His education, 
 was at Yale and the Theological Seminary at 
 Princeton. After this he passed several years in 
 Europe, extending his studies of the Greek lan- 
 guage and literature in Germany. On his return 
 he was appointed Professor of Greek at Yale in 
 1831, and discharged the duties of the position 
 for twenty years, giving to the public during this 
 period his editions of the Greek tragedians, the 
 Prometheus of ^Eschylus, the Antigone and Elec- 
 tra of Sophocles, and the Aleestis of Euripides. 
 He has also edited the Gorgias of Plato. His 
 inauguration discourse in 1846, on the subject of 
 college education, was a philosophical view of the 
 subject, asserting the claims of a classical education. 
 In his Historical Discourse, delivered before the 
 graduates of Yale in 1850, on the completion of the 
 third semi-centennial period, he has sketched the 
 development of the college, in its studies, with an 
 able pen. In the sphere of philosophical discourse 
 he has a thoroughly disciplined mind. 
 
 The college has been distinguished by the long 
 periods of service maintained by its officers and 
 professors. The terms of four of its presidents, 
 Clap, Stiles, Dwight, and Day, cover a period of 
 nearly a hundred years. Kingsley was tutor and 
 professor for more than fifty years. The con- 
 nexion of Benjamin Silliman with the instruction 
 of the college, dates from 1799; of Chauncey 
 Allen Goodrich, from 1812; of Olmsted, from 
 1815; of President Woolsey, from his tutorship 
 in 1823. 
 
 Professor James L. Kingsley was long a repre- 
 sentative man of the college. He had taught in 
 nearly every one of its departments, and identi- 
 fied himself with each step of its development. 
 Born in Connecticut, he was a graduate of the 
 college of the class of 1799, the same year with. 
 Moses Stuart. Two years afterwards he wa3 
 appointed tutor, and in 1805, professor of the 
 Greek, Hebrew, and Latin Languages and of Ec- 
 clesiastical History, discharging with ability the 
 various duties of these offices as required, till 
 with the improved adjustment of the college in- 
 struction, he entered in 1831 upon a distinct pro- 
 fessorship of the Latin Language and Literature, 
 continuing for some time to give instruction In 
 Hebrew. He resigned his post in 1851, exactly 
 half a century after his first appointment from the 
 college, and was then honored with the title of 
 Emeritus Professor, till his death, shortly after, 
 in August, 1852. He was a close and accurate 
 scholar, well versed in Greek and Hebrew, and 
 an adept in Latin. " I doubt," said President Wool- 
 
YALE COLLEGE. 
 
 89 
 
 sey in an address at his funeral, " if any Ameri- 
 can scholar has ever surpassed him in Latin 
 style." He first introduced into use in America, 
 about 1805, as a text-book, the two volumes of 
 the Ormca Majora, with which most American 
 students have been at some time familiar. His 
 encouragement of mathematical science was also 
 of importance. His familiarity with American 
 history, particularly of his own state, was great; 
 and he had given to the college annals, and the 
 large opportunities of biographical study offered 
 by the Triennial Catalogues, in the preparation 
 of which he was concerned, au attention inspired 
 by taste and habit. The Historical Discourse, 
 which he delivered in 1838, On the Two Hun- 
 dredth Anniversary of the First Settlement of 
 the Town and Colony of New Haven, and his 
 Sketch of the History of Yale College, published 
 in 1835, in the American Quarterly Register, 
 are proofs of this. He was, besides, the author 
 of The Life of President Stiles, in Sparks'* 
 American Biography, of a Eulogy on Professor 
 Fisher, and of various critical articles in the 
 North American Review, the Christian Spectator, 
 the New Englander, the American Journal of 
 Science, the Biblical Repository, and other peri- 
 odicals. His successor in the Professorship of 
 Latin, Thomas A. Thacher, in a Commemorative 
 Discourse, in October, 1852, speaks of his genuine 
 love of his classical studies, of his fondness for 
 biographical anecdote, and of his intimacy with 
 English literature.* 
 
 Professor Benjamin Silliman was born in 1779, 
 in Trumbull, in Connecticut. He was a graduate 
 of the college, of the year 1796, for a time 
 studied the law, in 1799 became a college tutor, 
 and has since been prominent in its faculty, — 
 his Professorship of Chemistry, Mineralogy, and 
 Geology dating from 1804. He visited Europe 
 the following year, to procure books and appara- 
 tus for the college, and was abroad fifteen months. 
 In 1810, he published an account of this tour in 
 his Journal of Travels in England, Holland, and 
 Scotland, and two p .stages on the Atlantic, in the 
 years 1805 and 1806. Nearly fifty years later, 
 he crossed the Atlantic again, and has contrasted 
 his observations after this interval in the two 
 volumes which he published in 1853, with the 
 title, A Visit to Europe in 1851. Another record 
 of his travels is his Remarks made in a Short 
 Tour between Hartford and Quebec in the autumn 
 of 1819. In the course of his college engage- 
 ment, he has published Elements of Chemistry 
 in the order of the Lectures in Yale College, in 
 1830; and has edited Henry's Chemistry and 
 Bake well's Geology. His lectures on Chemistry, 
 to which the public have been admitted, at Yale, 
 
 * "He enjoyed a kind of personal acquaintance with Addison 
 and Johnson and Milton and Shakespeare, and many others, 
 whose writings ho relished the more from his habit of giving 
 a personal existence to the writers. He took an interest in 
 their history; and when he visited England the streets and 
 corners of the capital seemed to be peopled, almost, with the 
 old worthies of his library, from Johnson, with his ghost in 
 Cock-lane, to Milton, in St. Giles's, Cripplegate. One could 
 easily have imagined, at times, from observing the heartiness 
 of the pleasure he derived from the more elegant writers of 
 past times, both classical and later, that he might even join in 
 Walter Pope's wish, and ask for retirement from the world, to 
 live in intellectual converse, 
 
 " With Horace, and Petrarch, and two or three more, 
 Of the best wits that reigned in the ages before." 
 
 Discourse, p. 46. 
 
 and which he ..as delivered in the chief cities of 
 the country, have gained him much reputation, 
 which has been extended at home and abroad by 
 his American Journal of Science, of which he 
 commenced the publication in 1818. 
 
 Denison Olmsted succeeded to the chair of Ma- 
 thematics and Natural Philosophy in 1825, which 
 he held till 1836, when a new distribution of the 
 duties took place, under which he entered upon 
 his present Professorship of Natural Philosophy 
 and Astronomy. He was born at East Hartford, 
 the son of a farmer, in 1791. became a graduate 
 of the college in 1813, then a tutor, when in 1817 
 he was appointed to the Professorship of Che- 
 mistry in the University of North Carolina, "which 
 he held for seven years. At that time he com- 
 menced, with the support of the legislature, tho 
 Geological Survey of the State, the first survey of 
 the kind in the country, and published papers on 
 the Gold Mines of North Carolina, and Illumi- 
 nating Gas from cotton seed, in the American 
 Journal of Science, to which he has been a fre- 
 quent contributor. His chief writings have been 
 Thoughts on the Clerical Profession, a series of 
 Essavs, in 1817 ; his Introduction to Natural 
 Philosophy, in 1832; an Introduction to Astro- 
 nomy, in 1839, the substance of which he embo- 
 died in a volume, Letters on Astronomy addressed 
 to a Lady, in 1840; Rudiments of Natural Phi- 
 losophy and Astronomy, 1843, a work of such 
 clearness and simplicity that it has been published 
 in raised letters for the use of the blind, by the 
 Massachusetts Asylum, and has been found well 
 adapted to the instruction of the deaf and dumb ; 
 a Life of Mason, the young astronomer, and 
 materials for several volumes of miscellanies in 
 his contributions to the leading reviews, consist- 
 ing of Moral Essays, Biographical Sketches, 
 one of the earliest being Pres. Dwight, in tho 
 Port Folio of 1817, Addresses, and Scientific 
 Memoirs. 
 
 Connected with the labors of this chair of Ma- 
 thematics and Natural Philosophy, was a young 
 man, a graduate of the College, whose career, soon 
 cut short by the fatal malady of consumption, 
 was yet long enough to make a name for himself, 
 and confer lasting honor on the institution. This 
 was Ebenezer Porter Mason, who died in 1840, 
 at the age of twenty-two, the story of whose pre- 
 cocious childhood, early mature development, and 
 scientific acquirements, has been narrated with 
 many sound reflections by the way, in an interest- 
 ing volume by Prof. Olmsted, with whom he was 
 associated.* Mason was born at Washington, 
 Litchfield County, Connecticut, in 1819; he died 
 in 1840, at the house of a relative near Richmond, 
 Virginia. His attention was awakened in his 
 childhood to books of science. He studied with in- 
 terest when he was nine years old the treatises in 
 the Library of Useful Knowledge. At the age 
 of thirteen he read the iEneid, and made excellent 
 translations from it in heroic verse. His original 
 verses written shortly after this time, if they dis- 
 play ingenuity rather than poetic conception, 
 show the general powers of his mind and his 
 literary tastes. Science, however, was to be his 
 
 * Life and Writings of Ebenezer Porter Mason ; interspersed 
 with hints to Parents and Instructors on the training and edu- 
 cation of a Child of Genius, By Tenison Olmsted. New York, 
 Dayton and Newman, 1842. 12mo. pp. 252. 
 
90 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE 
 
 Tale College. 
 
 peculiar vocation, and astronomy that branch 
 which he was especially to cultivate. His skill 
 and manual tact in constructing instruments and 
 recording observations, while a College student, 
 were very remarkable. On the completion of his 
 course in 1839, he became a Resident Graduate; 
 and in the short interval which remained before 
 his death, found time in narrow circumstances, 
 with rapidly failing health, to pursue and pub- 
 lish his Observations on Nebulm* a paper which 
 gained the admiration of Sir John Herschel, who 
 has thus spoken of the composition and its au- 
 thor : — " Mr. Mason, a young and ardent astrono- 
 mer, a native of the United States of America, 
 whose premature death is the more to be regret- 
 ted as he was (so far as I am aware) the only 
 other recent observer who has given himself with 
 the assiduit3 T which the subject requires, to the 
 exact delineation of Nebulre, and whose figures I 
 find at all satisfactory.''! He also prepared a col- 
 lege treatise on Practical Astronomy. In the 
 autumn of 1840, he was engaged in the difficult 
 public service of Prof. Renwick's North Eastern 
 Boundary Survey. He returned to his friends to 
 die before the year closed. 
 
 Oh! what a noble heart was here undone, 
 When Science' self destroyed her favourite son. 
 
 The Rev. Chauncey A. Goodrich was elected 
 professor of Rhetoric and Oratory in 1817, and 
 discharged the duties of this office until 1839, when 
 he was transferred to the Professorship of Pas- 
 toral Theology, in which office he still continues. 
 He was for several years editor of the Quarterly 
 Christian Spectator, and is extensively and favor- 
 ably known by his works of Greek elementary 
 instruction, his Collection of Select British Elo- 
 
 * In the Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 
 for 1840. 
 
 t Sir John F. W. Herschel's Results of Astronomical Obser- 
 vations, 1S84-S, at the Cape of Good Hope, p. 7. 
 
 quence, and his revised and enlarged edition of 
 Webster's Dictionary. 
 
 In 1841, a Professorship of the Arabic and 
 Sanskrit languages and literature was established 
 in the college, and Prof. Edward E. Salisbury was 
 appointed to the chair. His Inaugural Discourse 
 (New Haven, 1843, 8vo. pp. 51) is a learned and 
 comprehensive survey of the wide and important 
 field of Oriental literature. He has for many 
 years been the Secretary of the American Orien- 
 tal Society, and the editor of its journal, to which 
 he has contributed many valuable papers. This 
 work has reached its fourth volume, and is highly 
 creditable to American scholarship. In 1854 the 
 professorship was divided, Prof. Salisbury re- 
 taining the Arabic, and resigning the Sanskrit. 
 To the latter professorship Mr. William D. Whit- 
 ney, an eminent Sanskrit scholar, was then ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 The Medical establishment was organized in 
 1813, and has enjoyed the services of many 
 eminent men as instructors from that time to the 
 present. The number of professors is now six. 
 
 The Theological department of the college was 
 organized in 1822, the Rev. Nathaniel W. Taylor 
 being associated as Professor of Didactic Theology 
 with the Rev. Eleazar T. Fitch, who, in 1817, suc- 
 ceeded Dr. Dwight as Professor of Divinity. 
 These gentlemen have long been well known by 
 their lectures and published works. In 1824, 
 Josiah Willard Gibbs was chosen Professor of 
 Sacred Literature, which office he still holds. He 
 is the author of a valuable Lexicon of the He- 
 brew Language, and of very many contributions 
 to general philology. 
 
 The Law School, which was commenced about 
 1820, was not definitely connected with the col- 
 lege until 1830; and the degree of LL.B. was 
 first conferred here in 1843. The school is con- 
 ducted by two professors — Clark Bissell, late 
 Judge of the Supreme Court of Connecticut, and 
 Henry Dntton, Governor of that State. 
 
YALE COLLEGE. 
 
 91 
 
 In 1847 was established the department of 
 Philosophy and the Arts. By this it was intended 
 to provide means by which some of the collegiate 
 studies, such as philosophy, philology, pure mathe- 
 matics, and the like, might be prosecuted by 
 graduates under systematic instruction, and others, 
 not graduates, who should be properly qualified, 
 might be trained to fulfil in a creditable manner 
 the office of the civil engineer, of the scientific 
 miner and geologist, of the scientific agricultu- 
 rist, and the like ; thus furnishing society with a 
 body of highly educated men in its various de- 
 partments, and introducing, in fact, new liberal 
 professions among the learned pursuits. In this 
 new department are included the professorships 
 of chemistry applied to agriculture, chemistry 
 applied to the arts, and of civil engineering. 
 The first professor of agricultural chemistry was 
 John Pitkin Norton, a young man of high pro- 
 mise, and thoroughly qualified for the place. He 
 discharged the duties of his office with great zeal 
 and success, and by lectures at home and abroad, 
 and by his essays and treatises, accomplished much 
 good during his brief life. In the midst of his 
 usefulness he was arrested by fatal illness, and 
 died Sept. 5th, 1852, at the age of thirty. His 
 successor is Prof. John A. Porter. Prof. B. Sil- 
 liman, Jr., was appointed to the chair of che- 
 mistry applied to the arts, and still continues in 
 office. Prof. Win. A. Norton is the professor of 
 civil engineering. 
 
 In 1850 the Silliman professorship of natural 
 history was established, and James D. Dana was 
 appointed to the office. He is the author of a 
 comprehensive treatise on Mineralogy, which has 
 passed through four editions, and also of a work 
 on the Geology and Mineralogy of the U. S. Ex- 
 ploring Expedition, and of a work on the 
 Zoophytes and Crustacea collected during that 
 cruise. His contributions to the American Jour- 
 nal of Science, of which lie is one of the editors, 
 are numerous and valuable.* 
 
 Yale College is connected with the history of 
 religion in the country, as having educated more 
 than 1500 clergymen, and as having been the 
 scene of numerous revivals of religion. "In the 
 space of ninety-six years from the great revival 
 of 1741, the college," says Prof. Goodrich, "has 
 been favored with twenty distinct effusions of 
 the Holy Spirit, of which three were in the 
 last century and seventeen in the present."t 
 
 The benefactors to the college deserve a pass- 
 ing mention. D wight in his letters remarks that 
 they have been men of moderate fortunes.! 
 Among these, the Hon. Oliver Wolcott gave two 
 thousand dollars to the library. Eli Whitney, 
 the inventor of the cotton gin, a graduate of the 
 college, founded a fund of five hundred dollars, 
 
 * During the last ten years do one in America has made so 
 many important contributions to natural history. His reports J 
 ofthe Exploring Expedition are, 
 
 1. Report on Zoophytes. 1846. pp. 4704to. Atlas of 61 plates 
 
 folio. 23J new species of Zoophytes figured. 
 
 2. Report on Geology. 1849. pp. 756 4to. Atlas of 21 folio 
 
 plates of fossils. 
 S. Report on Crustacea. 1854. 2 vols, of 1620 pages in all. At- 
 las of 96 plates folio: 680 species figured; 658 of them new. 
 Of those and the other reporls, the government have, in their 
 folly, published only a hundred copies each. 
 
 t Narrative of Revivals of Religion in Tale College. Am. 
 Quar. Keg. x. 239. 
 $ Travels in New England and New York, i. 207. 
 
 the interest of which is to be expended in the pur- 
 chase of books on mechanical and physical science. 
 Dr. Alfred E. Perkins, also a graduate, bequeathed 
 ten thousand dollars as a permanent fund to the 
 library in 1834. Dr. Jedediah Morse and Mr. 
 S. F. B. Morse were contributors of a valuable col- 
 lection of books to the library in 1823. Among 
 the donors to the philosophical apparatus, the name 
 of Dr. Isaac Watts occurs for a pair of globes. 
 
 lilRf 
 
 an 
 
 Tale Library. 
 
 The college library, with the collections of the 
 societies, deposited in different departments, in the 
 costly and ornamental library building of Port- 
 land sandstone, numbered in 1854 some 54,000 
 volumes. The library is rich in old New Eng- 
 land theology, and in general history and meta- 
 physics. Its American antiquarian treasures include 
 a unique newspaper collection of contemporary 
 papers relating to the Stamp Act, made by Pre- 
 sident Stiles, and the extensive series of his MS. 
 Journals and commonplace books, of an historical 
 as well as personal interest. The library lias the 
 collection of papers made by Trumbull for his 
 History of Connecticut. An addition of much 
 value was made in 1854, being the entire library 
 of the late Prof. Thilo, of Halle, consisting of 
 above 4000 volumes, chiefly in ecclesiastical his- 
 tory and kindred departments. 
 
 the library possesses four of the original sculp- 
 tures of Nineveh, sent to America by the Eev. W. 
 F. Williams, American missionary at Mosul. 
 
 There have been but three specially appointed 
 librarians, the duty before 1805 having been dis- 
 charged by tutors — Professor Kingsley, Josiah 
 Willard Gibbs, and the present incumbent, Ed- 
 ward C. Herrick. In the Trumbull Gallery, 
 the College possesses a constant means of at- 
 traction to visitors. There are collected a valu- 
 able series of Revolutionary paintings by the 
 artist from whom the building has been named, 
 and beneath which he lies buried, with many 
 other works of interest, portraits of the college 
 presidents, and illustrious men of the state, in- 
 cluding the celebrated family group of Dean 
 Berkeley and his friends, painted by Smibert. 
 
 The Phi Beta Kappa Society of Yale was or- 
 ganized in 1780. Its catalogue shows a list of 
 honored names, from the poets Trumbull and 
 Barlow to the present day. Its orators and poets 
 
92 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE 
 
 have included, among others, Edward Everett, 
 T. S. Grirake, Gardiner Spring, James Kent, 
 Albert Barnes, Horace Bushncll, Edward Robin- 
 son, Daniel Lord, J. G. Percival, Elizur Wright, 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes, Wm. H. Seward. 
 
 The college societies, the Linonian and the 
 Brothers in Unity, are supported with spirit. To 
 the last, literary men are indebted for the first 
 edition of the Alphabetical Index to subjects 
 treated in Reviews, prepared by William Fre- 
 derick Poole, its librarian. 
 
 The Yale Literary Magazine, contributed to 
 by undergraduates, was commenced in 1836,* 
 and has been well sustained since, being by far 
 the longest-lived publication of its kind. Its 
 series of portraits and lives of the Presidents and 
 Professors are valuable; while it has published 
 original articles of merit from the pens of Colton, 
 Bristed, Thompson, Mitchell, Finch, and others. 
 
 Comparing the, catalogues of the two oldest 
 colleges, Harvard and Yale, we find, that up to 
 the close of 1854, in the former institution there 
 had been, from the year 1642, 6,612 alumni, of 
 whom 2,273 were then survivors; and of Yale, 
 from 1702 to the close of 1853, there had been 
 6,212 graduates, of whom 3,065 were living — so 
 that in point of number of living alumni the 
 latter institution stands at the head of the col- 
 leges of the country. 
 
 JONATHAN EDWARDS. 
 
 Jonathan Edwards, one of the first metaphysi- 
 cians of his age, and the last and finest product 
 of the old Puritanism of America, was born 
 in East Windsor, Connecticut, October 5, 1703. 
 His family and culture were strictly evangelical. 
 Four generations back, on his father's side, his 
 ancestor was a clergyman of the Established 
 Church in London, in the time of Elizabeth. His 
 son emigrated to Hartford, in Connecticut, in the 
 middle of the seventeenth century. He was a 
 merchant, as was also his son Richard, who super- 
 added to that worldly calling a life of eminent 
 piety. The next in descent was the Rev. Timothy 
 Edwards, the father of our author. He was a 
 graduate of Harvard, and the first minister of 
 East Windsor. In the old French war, he accom- 
 panied an expedition as chaplain on its way to 
 Canada. He married the daughter of the Rev. 
 Solomon Stoddard, of Northampton, with whom 
 he lived more than sixty-three years — his widow 
 surviving him twelve years, when she died in her 
 ninety-ninth year. This lady, the mother of 
 Jonathan Edwards, is spoken of as possessed of 
 superior force of understanding and refinement of 
 character. The father was a man of learning and 
 devotion to his ministry. 
 
 It is impossible to study the portrait of Jona- 
 than Edwards without noticing an air of purity, 
 a tinge perhaps of feminine character, a look of 
 thorough earnestness, and an expression of native 
 delicacy. Energy and reserve seem to be happily 
 blended in his countenance.! On reading the 
 
 * Three or four college magazines had previously been pub- 
 lished here, as the Literary Cabinet in 1807, the AVtenanm in 
 1S14, &c. In 1831 appeared Tlie Student's Companion, by the 
 Knights of the Round Table, the two hundred pages of which 
 were written almost exclusively by David Francis Bacon. 
 . t "In his youth he appeared healthy, and with a good decree 
 of vivacity, but was never robust. Ig middle life, he appeared 
 
 narrative of his youthful studies and early deve- 
 lopements of intellect and piety, we see an exube- 
 
 ranee in both which indicate a richly endowed 
 nature. Education, whatever it may be with 
 such a man, is simply the mould to be filled by 
 his genius. In other places, in other relations, 
 he would always be a man of mark. In the field 
 of the belles lettres, if he had cultivated them, he 
 would have shone as an acute critic and poet; 
 among men of science, as a profound and original 
 observer; among wits, as a subtle philosopher. 
 As it was, born in New England, of the ghostly 
 line of Puritanism, all his powers were confined 
 to Christian morals and metaphysics. 
 
 The religious element was developed in him 
 very early. At the age of seven or eight, in a 
 period of religious excitement in his father's con- 
 gregation, he attained a height of devotional 
 fervor, and built a booth in a retired swamp for 
 secret prayer, with some of his school companions. 
 His account of his " early religious life is pure and 
 fervent, recalling the sublime imagination of Sir 
 Thomas Browne of those who have understood 
 Christian annihilation, gustation of God, and 
 ingression into the divine shadow, and have had 
 already an handsome anticipation of heaven." 
 Nature at that time was transfigured before him. 
 It was the thorough consecration of a mind of 
 the strongest powers and finest temper. His love 
 of nature was a trait of his boyhood. Before the 
 age of twelve he had written a minute account of 
 the habits of a forest spider. When the world 
 gained a great metaphysician it perhaps lost an 
 admirable natural historian. 
 
 Edwards entered Yale College in his thirteenth 
 year, when he fell in with Locke's Essay on the 
 
 very much emaciated, by severe study, and intense mental 
 application. In his person he was tall of stature — about six 
 feet one inch — and of a slender form. He had a high, broad, 
 bold forehead, and an eye unusually piercing and luminous; 
 and on his whole countenance, the features of his mind — per- 
 spicacity, sincerity, and benevolence — were so strongly im- 
 pressed, that no one could behold it, without at once discover- 
 ing the clearest indications of great intei'^c*" tf and moral 
 elevation. 1 ' — Life by Sereno E. Dwiglit, 
 
JONATHAN EDWARD3. 
 
 93 
 
 Understanding, ■which ha read ■with great zest. 
 It was always his habit to think and write as he 
 read, so that his pen, as his biographer remarks, 
 was always in his hand. This course adds to 
 the exactness and labor of study, and begets a 
 habit which, amidst the infinite riches of human 
 learning, is not readily expended. It is not sur- 
 prising, therefore, that Edwards afterwards came 
 to devote nearly two thirds of the day to study. 
 He was graduated at the college with the highest 
 honor, and continued to reside in the institution 
 two years, for the study of the ministry. His 
 first clerical occupation was in New York, where 
 he preached to a congregation of Presbyterians in 
 
 1722, in his nineteenth year. His meditations at 
 this time were full of ardor and humility. " The 
 soul of a true Christian, as I then wrote my medi- 
 tations," says he, "appeared like such a little 
 white flower as we see in the spring of the year ; 
 low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom 
 to receive the pleasant beams of the sun's glory ; 
 rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture, diffusing 
 around a sweet fragrancy ; standing peacefully 
 and lovingly, in the midst of other flowers round 
 about ; all in like manner opening their bosoms, 
 to drink in the light of the sun." He records his 
 frequent retirement " into a solitary place on the 
 banks of Hudson's river, at some distance from 
 the city, for contemplation on divine things and 
 secret converse with God; and had many sweet 
 hours there." Before he had completed his 
 twentieth year, he had solemnly arranged a 
 series of seventy resolutions, which were to be 
 the guiding principles of his life. These relate to 
 the absolute performance of duty without regard 
 to immediate motive or difficulty ; to the intensity 
 of occupation, — '"to live with all my might while 
 I do live " — to regard the various moral duties, 
 to practise the minor moralities, " in narrations 
 never to speak anything but the pure and simple 
 verity." The fifty-first resolution, dated July 8, 
 
 1723, is a singular expression at once of submis- 
 sion and of strength of will: — "that I will act so, 
 in every respect, as I think I shall wish I had 
 done, if I should at last be damned." A private 
 religious Diary which he wrote, commences Dec. 
 18, 1722, and closes June 11, 1726. One entry 
 marks the student, and the comparative isolation 
 of the man from the world : — " I am sometimes 
 in a frame so listless, that there is no other way 
 of profitably improving time but conversation, 
 visiting, or recreation, or some bodily exercise. 
 However, it may be best, in the first place, before 
 resorting to either of these, to try the whole 
 circle of my mental employments." This was 
 dangerous theory and practice with his delicate 
 constitution. 
 
 From New York, where he resided eight 
 months, he returned to a tutorship in Yale, where 
 he remained till he became associated, in 1726, 
 on his ordination, with his grandfather, the Rev. 
 Mr. Stoddard, in his ministry at Northampton, 
 In July of this year he married Miss Sarah 
 Pierrepont, the daughter of a clergyman of strong 
 clerical connexions, and a young lady of eighteen, 
 of unusual beauty. The spiritual description of 
 her gentle habits, written by Edwards, apparently 
 on reports of her excellence brought to him when 
 she was but thirteen years of age, is the uncon- 
 scious admiration of the lover in the saint. " They 
 
 say," writes on a blank leaf the pure-minded 
 young man of twenty, " there is a young lady in 
 New Haven who is beloved of that Great Being, 
 who made and rules the world, and that there are 
 certain seasons in which this Great Being, in some 
 way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her 
 mind with exceeding sweet delight, and that she 
 hardly cares for anything, except to meditate on 
 him — that she expects, after a while, to be 
 received up where he is, to he raised up out of 
 the world and caught up into heaven ; being 
 assured that he loves her too well to let her 
 remain at a distance from him always. There 
 she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished 
 with his love and delight for ever. Therefore, if 
 you present all the world before her, with the 
 richest of its treasures, she disregards it and 
 cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or 
 affliction. She has a strange sweetness in her 
 mind, and singular purity in her affections; is 
 most just and conscientious in all her conduct; 
 and you could not persuade her to do anything 
 wrong or sinful, if you would give her all the 
 world, lest she should offend this Great Being. 
 She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness, and 
 universal benevolence of mind; especially after this 
 Great God has manifested himself to her mind. 
 She will sometimes go about from place to place, 
 singing sweetly, and seems to be always full of 
 joy and pleasure, and no one knows for what. 
 She loves to be alone, walking in the fields and 
 groves, and seems to have some one invisible 
 always conversing with her."* 
 
 His preaching at Northampton was devoted to 
 an awakening of zeal and restoration of strict 
 devotional conduct, which had somewhat declined. 
 Hiscourse was attended at the outset with success ; 
 a revival, a class of religious exercises for which the 
 town had been celebrated, in 1735, adding largely 
 for the time to his congregation. An account of 
 these scenes was published in " A Narrative of 
 Surprising Conversions," by Edwards, reissued in 
 London, with a preface by Dr. "Watts. Other 
 solemnities of the kind attended his ministry at 
 Northampton. To mark the distinctions of what 
 he considered true religion, he wrote the discri- 
 minating Treatise on lieligiovs Affections. 
 
 Whether the discipline attempted by Edwards 
 was overstrained or impolitic, or the system of 
 theology which ho pursued was more logical than 
 practicable, serious differences arose with the 
 people, which eventually, after he had preached 
 at Northampton for twenty-three years, compelled 
 his retirement. One point of difficulty was his 
 change in the test for the Communion. This rite 
 had been regarded as a means to conversion 
 rather than the end ; and persons admitted to 
 membership under it without a distinct profession. 
 In opposing this view, which had been de- 
 liberately established by his grandfather anil 
 predecessor, and enforcing his convictions, Ed- 
 wards was governed by the logical morality of 
 his early resolutions. He issued his work, " An 
 Humble Enquiry into the Rules of the Word of 
 God, concerning the Qualifications requisite to 
 a complete standing and full communion in the 
 Visible Christian Church." The townspeople 
 
 ' Life by Dwight, p. 114. 
 
91 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 instigated controversial replies and held meetings 
 of disapproval ; the result, after a great deal of 
 unhappy agitation, was Edwards's dismission, in 
 1750, by an Ecclesiastical Council. He was in- 
 stalled the next year minister at Stockbridge, 
 Mass., and missionary to the Indians then in that 
 vicinity. It was at this post, where he con- 
 tinued six years, that he wrote, in the midst of 
 cares and anxieties, in the short time of four 
 months and a half, his " Essay on the Freedom of 
 the Will."* This work is written with great com- 
 pactness, never swerving from the line of the argu- 
 ment. While men will continue to act as if they 
 ' were free, Edwards will still convince them that 
 they are bound by the iron hand of necessity. 
 
 With metaphysicians it has always taken the 
 highest reputation. Its worth has been pronounced 
 by "mouths of wisest censure." 
 
 ' " In the New World," said Dugald Stewart, " the 
 state of society and of manners has not hitherto 
 been so favourable to abstract science as to pur- 
 suits which come home directly to the business 
 of human life. There is, however, one metaphy- 
 sician of whom America has to boast, who, in 
 logical acuteness and subtlety, does not yield to 
 any disputant bred in the Universities of Europe. 
 I need not say that I allude to Jonathan Edwards. 
 But at the time when he wrote, the state of 
 America was more favourable than it now is, or 
 can for a long period be expected to be, to such 
 inquiries as those which engaged his attention; 
 inquiries, by the way, to which his thoughts were 
 evidently turned, less by the impulse of specula- 
 tive curiosity than by his anxiety to defend the 
 theological system in which he had been educated, 
 and to which he was most conscientiously and 
 zealously attached. The effect of this anxiety in 
 sharpening his faculties, and in keeping his 
 polemical vigilance constantly on the alert, may 
 be traced in every step of his argument.''! 
 
 Hazlitt, whose " Principles of Human Action " 
 show him to have been a close and original 
 student of mental phenomena, and whose know- 
 ledge of metaphysical authors entitles him to an 
 authoritative opinion on the subject, says of the 
 " Treatise on the Will " and its author : " Having 
 produced him, the Americans need not despair of 
 their metaphysicians. We do not scruple to say, 
 that he is one of the acutest, most powerful, and 
 of all reasoners the most conscientious and sincere. 
 His closeness and candour are alike admirable. 
 Instead of puzzling or imposing on others, he 
 tries to satisfy his own mind. * * Far from 
 taunting his adversaries, he endeavours with all 
 his might to explain difficulties. * * His 
 anxiety to clear up the scruples of others is equal 
 to his firmness in maintaining his own opinion."! 
 
 A manuscript note, by Judge Egbert Benson, at- 
 tached to the copy of The Freedom of the Will — 
 the original Boston edition of 1754, with the sub- 
 scribers' names appended, preserved in the New 
 
 * A Careful and Strict Enquiry into the modern prevailing 
 Notions of that Freedom of Will, which is supposed to be 
 essential to Moral Agency, Virtue and Vice, Reward and Pun- 
 ishment, Praise and Blame. By Jonathan Edwards, A.M., 
 Pastor of the Church in Stockbridge. Rom. ix. 16: It is not 
 of him that willeth. Boston, N. E. Printed and sold by 8. 
 Kneeland, in Queen-st. 1754. 
 
 t Dupald Stewart's Dissertation on the Progress of Philoso- 
 phy, 2C8. 1820. 4to. 
 
 X Ed. Rev. L. p. 131. 
 
 York Society Library — records a remark of 
 Hamilton on this book. '"The conversation led 
 to the question whether he had ever read the 
 work of Edwards on the Will ? He told me he 
 had. I then asked him what he thought of it. 
 He replied, that he presumed nothing ever came 
 from the human mind more in proof that man 
 was a reasoning animal. It is unrelaxed logical 
 statement throughout — from the first page to the 
 last a consecutive series of arguments, the only 
 digression from the main propositions being quali- 
 fications of the sense, expressed in the same brief, 
 rigid style. Its chief aim is to maintain a point 
 of Calvinism against the attacks and tenets of the 
 Arminians." 
 
 On the death of Burr, the President of Prince- 
 ton College, in 1757, Edwards was chosen to 
 succeed him. Burr was the father of the cele- 
 brated and unscrupulous Aaron Burr, and the 
 son-in-law of Edwards; so that the maternal 
 grandfather of the unhappy politician was the 
 exemplary divine. Burr, with little of his 
 morality, may have inherited a great deal of his 
 subtlety. 
 
 Edwards's letter to the Trustees, dated Stock- 
 bridge, Oct. 19th, when he meditated acceptance of 
 the post, enters curiously into the physiology of 
 his condition : — " I have a constitution in many 
 respects peculiarly unhappy, attended with flaccid 
 solids, vapid, sizy, and scarce fluids, and a low 
 tide of spirits, often occasioning a kind of childish 
 weakness and contemptibleness of speech, pre- 
 sence, and demeanor, with a disagreeable dulness 
 and stiffness, much unfitting me for conversation, 
 but more especially for the government of a col- 
 lege." He had, up to this time, for many years 
 spent fourteen hours a day in study. Yet, with a 
 feeble frame from childhood, by temperance and 
 method, he could endure these labors, and find 
 himself, at the age of fifty-four, " as well able to 
 bear the closest study," he says, " as I was thirty 
 years ago." It is, perhaps, difficult under these 
 circumstances to determine whether he was sus- 
 tained or worn out by literature. The occupa- 
 tion in his studj', which "swallowed up his mind," 
 was, he tells us in the same sentence, "the chief 
 entertainment and delight of his life." The 
 enjoyments of the scholar, if they caused, also 
 compensated the unpleasant dyspeptic symptoms 
 which the philosopher somewhat pedantically 
 recounted. 
 
 In January, 1758, Edwards was installed at 
 Princeton. In the same month his father died, 
 at the venerable age of eighty-nine. The small- 
 pox then prevailing in the vicinity, Edwards was 
 inoculated, a course for which he took not only 
 the advice of his physician but the consent of his 
 college corporation. A fever set in, in conse- 
 quence of this act of precaution, which caused 
 his death in his fifty-fifth year, March 22, 1758. 
 His daughter, Mrs. Burr, died suddenly about a 
 fortnight after, and his wife in October of the 
 same year. 
 
 Edwards left a family of ten children, one of 
 whom, bearing his father's name, became a Doctor 
 of Divinity and President of Union College. 
 
 His second son, Pierrepont, was Judge of the 
 United States Court for the District of Connec- 
 ticut. He died at Bridgeport in 1826, at the age 
 of 76. One of his sons became Governor of Con- 
 
CHARLES CHAITNCY- 
 
 95 
 
 neoticut, another is the Hon. Ogden Edwards of 
 New York. 
 
 The tributes to Edwards's powers of mind and 
 devout life, in addition to those we have quoted, 
 by Chalmers Robert Hall, Mackintosh, Isaac 
 Taylor, and others, leave nothing unsaid, in the 
 way of eulogy, of his metaphysical ability.* His 
 practical devotional style was, while argumenta- 
 tive, warm and affectionate, dwelling on the elevat- 
 ed poetry of the scriptures. Dr. Alexander has 
 described his character as a preacher. " He was 
 commanding as a pulpit teacher, not for grace of 
 person ; he was slender and shy ; not for elocution ; 
 his voice was thin and weak; for any trick of 
 style; no man more disdained and trampled on it: 
 — but from his immense preparation, long fore- 
 thought, sedulous writing of every word, touch- 
 ing earnestness and holy life. He was not C man 
 of company ; he seldom visited his hearers. Yet 
 there was no man whose mental power, was 
 greater. Common consent set him at the head 
 of his profession. Even in a time of raptures and 
 fiery excitement he lost no influence. The inci- 
 dent is familiar of his being called on a sudden to 
 take the place of Whitefield, the darling of the 
 people, who failed to appear when a multitude 
 were gathered to hear him. Edwards, unknown 
 to most in person, with unfeigned reluctance, such 
 as a vainer man might feel, rose before a disap- 
 pointed assembly and proceeded with feeble man- 
 ner to read from his manuscript. In a little time 
 the audience was hushed ; but this was not all. 
 Before they were aware, they were attentive and 
 soon enchained. As was then common, one and 
 another in the outskirts would arise and stand ; 
 numbers arose and stood; they came forward, 
 they pressed upon the centre ; the whole assembly 
 rose; and before he c included sobs burst from the 
 convulsed throng. It was the power of fearful 
 argument. The sermon is known to be in his 
 wprks."t 
 
 Edwards, in most of his writing, beyond exact- 
 ness, pail little attention to style; and judging by 
 the anecdote related by his eldest son, that his 
 acquaintance with Richardson's novel of Sir 
 Charles Grandison, about the time of his leaving 
 Northampton, led him to think of its amendment,}: 
 he must have been, in early life, unacquainted with 
 the best English models. 
 
 The works of President Edwards were collected 
 in ten volumes in New York in 1820. The first 
 is occupied by a Life, written by Sereno E. 
 D wight, which includes the diaries; the Treatises 
 on the Will and the Affections form portions of 
 separate volumes; there are several series of dis- 
 courses, doctrinal and practical, and the tenth 
 volume is taken up with Edwards's Memoirs of the 
 Missionary Brainerd, which was first published 
 in 1749. 
 
 * They are enumerated by Dr. Samuel Miller in his life of 
 Edward!, In Sparks's Biog., vol. viii. of the first series, 171-1S7. 
 The reference to Chalmers is his Christian and Civic Economy 
 of Large Towns, i. 31S-822. To Robert Hall, his Works, iii. 4, 
 65, 79. To Mackintosh, his Memoirs, i. 22, and Progress of 
 Ethical Philosophy, 188. Isaac Tavlor prefixed an "Essay on 
 the application of Abstract Reasoning to the Christian Doc- 
 trines,' 1 to an edition of the Treatise on the Will. 
 
 t MS. Centennial Discourse at the College of New Jersey, by 
 the Bev. James W. Alexander. The text of Edwards's sermon 
 was Dent, xxxii. 82. It is the fifteenth sermon of thn fourth 
 vol. of the New York edition of his works of 1844, p. 313. 
 
 % Life by Dwight, 601. 
 
 CHARLES CHATJNCT. 
 Charles Chattnct, a great-grandson of Charles 
 Chauncy, the second president of Harvard College, 
 was born in Boston, on the first day of the year 
 1705. At the age of seven he lost his father, a 
 merchant of Boston, and son of the Rev. Isaac 
 Chauncy. He entered Harvard at the early age 
 of twelve, and was graduated with high honor in 
 1721. In 1727, he was ordained a colleague with 
 the Rev. Mr. Foxcroft, in the pastoral charge of 
 the first church in his native town — a connexion 
 which continued for forty years, until the death 
 of Mr. Foxcroft, after which he remained in sole 
 charge of the congregation for ten years. He 
 was then assisted by the Rev. John Clarke, until 
 his death, on the tenth of February, 1787. Dr. 
 Chauncy enjoyed a great reputation as a scholar 
 and theological writer. 
 
 The straightforward tendency of his mind, and 
 his great dislike of anything tending to parade 
 or affectation, combined with his aversion to 
 Whitefield and the French school of preaching, 
 led him to adopt a studied plainness in the com- 
 position and delivery of his sermons.* He was 
 wont to say he besought God that he might never 
 be an orator, on which a wit remarked that his 
 prayer had been fully granted.t His strango 
 want of appreciation of poetry, shown by his ex- 
 pressed wish that some one would translate Para- 
 dise Lost into prose, that he might understand it, f 
 shows that he had little sympathy with imagina- 
 tive or rhetorical effort. His voice was feeble, 
 and his delivery quiet. He was uncompromising 
 in his exposure and denunciation of every depar- 
 ture from the strict rules of integrity, either by 
 public bodies or by private individuals, his own 
 affairs being regulated with the utmost exactness. 
 "During the period," says Otis, "that some great 
 losses were experienced by the fluctuation of 
 paper money, he preached the election sermon, in 
 1747, before the governor and legislature; on 
 which occasion, he spoke in very plain terms of 
 their duty, as honest men and legislators, and 
 said, that if their acts were unjust, they would 
 one day be called upon to answer for them. The 
 discourse gave some dissatisfaction, and a dis- 
 cussion arose whether it should be printed. To 
 a person who came to tell him of this difficulty, 
 he answered, 'It shall be printed, whether the 
 General Court print it or not ; and do you, sir, 
 say from me, that if I wanted to initiate and in- 
 struct a person into all kinds of iniquity and 
 double-dealing, I would send him to our General 
 Court ! ' " It was " printed by Order of the Ho- 
 norable House of Representatives," with a motto 
 on the title from Deuteronomy xvi. 20 — " That 
 which is altogether just shalt thou follow." He 
 was an active controversialist, publishing in 1742 
 and 1743 sermons On the Various Gifts of Mi- 
 nisters, On Enthusiasm, and on the Outpourings 
 of the Holy Ghost, directed against Whitefield. 
 These were followed by An Account of the 
 French Prophets, and Seasonable Thoughts on 
 the State of Religion in New England. In 
 the preparation of the last named work, which 
 
 * "As a preacher, he was plain to a degree which has becoma 
 nnfasliionablo in tho present age."— Funeral Sermon by tha 
 Rev. John Clarke, D.D. 
 
 f Sudor's Life of Otis, 149. 
 
 Jib. 
 
96 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 forms an octavo volume, he travelled several hun- 
 dred miles to collect facts,* tending to show the 
 dangers of the appeals to excitement practised by 
 Whitefield and the revival school. In 1702 he 
 published a sermon on The Validity of Presby- 
 tarian Ordination ; in 1765 Twelve Sermons on 
 Seasonable and Important Subjects, the chief 
 of which was justification by faith ; in 1767, 
 Remarks on a Sermon of the Bishop of Landaff, 
 and in 1771, a complete view of Episcopacy, as 
 exhibited from the Fathers of the Christian 
 Church, until the close of the second century, 
 in which he endeavored to prove that that form 
 of government was not sanctioned by the usage 
 of the primitive church. With these views he 
 was, as might be expected, a participant in the 
 hotly waged controversy on the proposed intro- 
 duction of bishops into the colonies by the English 
 government, publishing in answer to Dr. Chan- 
 dler's " Appeal to the Public," on the Episcopal 
 side, An Appeal to the Public, answered in be- 
 half of Non-Episcopal Churches. Chandler an- 
 swered by "The Appeal Defended," Chauncy 
 responded, and Chandler again in turn replied. 
 
 Dr. Chauncy's printed sermons are in all about 
 sixty in number. His last works were The 
 Mystery hid from Ages, or the Salvation of all 
 Men, which he considered the most valuable of 
 his writmgSjt Dissertations upon the Benevolence 
 of the Deity, both printed in 1784, and a volume 
 on The Fall of Man, and its Consequences, which 
 appeared in 1785. 
 
 He took a warm interest in the success of the 
 American cause during the Revolution, and was 
 wont to say that if the national arms were in- 
 sufficient, angels would be sent to fight for the 
 cause of freedom. 
 
 THOMAS CHAXKLEY. 
 TnoMAS Chalki.et informs ns in the opening line 
 of his " Life, Labours, Travels, &c," that he was 
 " born on the third day of the third month, 1675, 
 in Southwark," London. He gives a touching 
 picture of the persecutions to which his sect of 
 Friends were exposed, even from their tender 
 years : 
 
 "When between eight and ten years of age, my 
 father and mother sent me near two miles to school, 
 to Richard Scoryer, in the suburbs of London. I 
 went mostly by myself to the school ; and many and 
 various were the exercises I went through, by beat- 
 ings and stonings along the streets, being distin- 
 guished to the people, by the badge of plainness 
 which my parents put upon me, of what profession 
 I was : divers telling me, " it was no more sin to kill 
 me than it was to kid a dog." 
 
 He relates his spiritual experiences at great 
 length, commencing with his tenth year. At the 
 age of twenty he was pressed on board a man-of- 
 war. He passed the night in the hold, having 
 nothing to lie upon but casks, and among wicked 
 men ; " and as we were shut up in darkness, so 
 
 * "I have been a circle of more tban tbree hundred nines, and 
 had, by this means, an opportunity of going through a great 
 number of towns in this and the neighbouring government of 
 Connecticut, and of having personal conversation with most 
 of the ministers, and many other gentlemen in. the country." 
 —Preface, xxix, 
 
 * Clarke's Funeral Sermon. 
 
 was their conversation dark and hellish." On 
 being asked, in the morning, " if he was willing 
 to serve his Majesty," he answerd, that he was 
 willing to serve him in his business, and according 
 to his conscience ; " but as for war and fighting, 
 Christ had forbid it in his excellent Sermon on 
 the Mount ; and for that reason I could not bear 
 arms nor be instrumental to destroy or kill men." 
 " Then," he continues, 
 
 " The lieutenant looked on me and on the people, 
 and said : ' Gentlemen, what shall we do with this 
 fellow ? Ho swears he will not fight.' The com- 
 mander of the vessel made answer: 'No, he will 
 neither swear nor fight.' Upon which they turned 
 me on shore. I was thankful that I was delivered 
 out of their hands ; and my tender parents were 
 glad to see me again." 
 
 At the expiration of his apprenticeship to his 
 father, of seven years, he " went to his calling, 
 and got a little money (a little being enough) 
 which I was made willing to spend freely in the 
 work and service of my great Master, Christ 
 Jesus." He was soon after " concerned " to travel 
 and preach about England, and after a few months 
 passed in this manner, and a brief return to his 
 calling, he " found himself engaged in the love of 
 the gospel, to visit friends in America." After a 
 long passage, he landed at the mouth of the 
 Patuxent river, in Maryland, in January, 1698. 
 Next followed a year of travel, during which he 
 visited New England and Virginia, where he 
 found an aged friend " who was ninety-two years 
 of age, and had then a daughter two years old." 
 A note informs us that he saw this vigorous vete- 
 ran, some time after, " weeding Indian corn with 
 a hoe, at the age of 106. He died a year after 
 having seen the child of his fourscore and ten 
 years married." After " several good and open 
 meetings in Virginia," friend Chalkley "found 
 himself clear of America," and returned to 
 England. 
 
 He soon after married Martha Betterton, he 
 being in his twenty-fourth and she in her twenty- 
 first year. As she " had an excellent gift of the 
 ministry given her," the step confirmed him the 
 more in his vocation of preacher, and after a 
 journey in Ireland, he decided to remove perma- 
 nently to America. Settling his wife in Phila- 
 delphia on his arrival, he visited Barbadoes, and 
 on his return, " went through Maryland and 
 visited friends in Virginia and North Carolina, to 
 the river Pamlico, where no travelling Friends 
 that ever I heard of, were before." He describes 
 an incident of his journey with great beauty : 
 
 " In going to and coming from this place, we lay 
 two nights in the woods, and I think I never slept 
 better in all my life. It was the eighth hour in the 
 evening, when I laid down on the ground, one night, 
 my saddle being my pillow, at the root of a tree; 
 and it was four o'clock in the morning when they 
 called me. When I awoke, I thought of good Jacob's 
 lodging he had on tho way to Padan Aram, when 
 he saw the holy visions of angels, with the ladder, 
 whose top reached to heaven. Very sweet was the 
 love of God to my soul that morning, and the dew 
 of the everlasting hills refreshed me : and I went on 
 my way praising the Lord, and magnifying the God 
 of my salvation." 
 
 After a horseback journey of about a thousand 
 
AQUILA ROSE. 
 
 97 
 
 miles, in this manner, he passed a few months at 
 home, " following my business in order to the 
 maintenance of my family." He nest visited 
 Rhode Island, which he found in the midst of 
 troubles with the Indians, where he exhorted 
 Friends to maintain their non-resistance princi- ! 
 pies, and says that those who did so were unrno- 
 lested by the savages. 
 
 " After thoroughly visiting friends in those 
 parts," he returned through Connecticut and Long 
 Island to Philadelphia, but was soon off again to 
 Maryland. He thus continued travelling about, 
 " rising early, and laying down late ; many days 
 riding forty, fifty, and sixty miles a day, which," 
 he naively adds, " was very laborious, and hard 
 for my flesh to endure, being corpulent and heavy 
 from the twenty-seventh year of my age ;" with 
 occasional intervals of rest at home, until the 
 middle of the year 1707, when he again visited 
 Barbadoes, and sailing thence for England, was 
 shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, but without 
 sustaining personal injury. Upon leaving Ireland, 
 he journeyed through Great Britain, and after a 
 visit to Holland and Germany, returned to Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 On a subsequent voyage, from the Bermudas, 
 in consequence of a long continuance of calms, 
 the stock of provisions became scanty. The ves- 
 sel being consigned to Chalkley, and under his 
 care, the crew began to upbraid him for the 
 scarcity, and "tell dismal stories about eating one 
 another." 
 
 " To stop their murmuring," he says, " I told them 
 they should not need to cast lots, which was usual 
 in such cases, which of us should die first, for I 
 would freely offer up my life to do them good. One 
 said, l God bless you! I will not eat any of you.' 
 Another said, ' He would die before he would eat 
 any of me;' and so said several. I can truly say, 
 on that occasion, at that time, my life was not dear 
 to me, and that I was serious and ingenuous in my 
 proposition: and as I was leaning over the side of 
 the vessel, thoughtfully considering my proposal to 
 the company, and looking in my mind to Him that 
 made me, a very large dolphin came up towards 
 the top or surface of the water, and looked me in 
 the face; and I called the people to put a hook into 
 the sea, and take him, for here is one come to redeem 
 me (I said to them). And they put a hook into the 
 sea, and the fish readily took it, and they caught 
 him. He was longer than myself. I think he was 
 about six feet long, and the largest that ever I saw. 
 This plainly showed us that we ought not to distrust 
 the providence of the Almighty. The people were 
 quieted by this act of Providence, and murmured 
 no more. We caught enough to eat plentifully of 
 tdl we got into the capes of Delaware." 
 
 Chalkley's journal was continued to within a 
 few days of his death — an event which found him 
 occupied in the work of 'his itinerant ministry at 
 Tortola, one of the Friendly Islands. " Our 
 ancient worthy friend," as Israel Pemberton ten- 
 derly calls him, in the Testimony of the Monthly 
 Meeting prefixed to his journal, died after a few 
 days' illness, of a fever, in the month of October, 
 1749. 
 
 The journal, of which we have endeavored to 
 convey a fair idea to our readers, was published 
 with a collection of the author's writings, in Phi- 
 ladelphia, in 1747. A reprint, in an octavo 
 
 vol. i. — 7 
 
 volume of 556 pages, appeared at New York, in 
 1808. His works form about one third of its con- 
 tents. They consist of a series of religious tracts, 
 the chief of which are entitled : God's Great 
 Love unto Mankind through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord ; A Loving Invitation to Young and Old, 
 in Holland and elsewhere, to seek and love Al- 
 mighty God, and to prepare in time for their 
 Eternal Welfare ; Observations on Christ's 
 Sermon on the Mount ; Christ's Kingdom 
 Exalted ; and Youth Persuaded to Obedience, 
 Gratitude, and Honor to God and their Parents. 
 To these are joined a few productions of a con- 
 troversial nature ; but even these, as their titles 
 show, are pervaded by the usual kindly spirit of 
 their writer.* 
 
 He introduced the first named of these in a few 
 brief but happily penned sentences : 
 
 "In sincerity and unfeigned love, both to God and 
 man, were these lines penned. I desire thee to pe- 
 ruse them in the same love, and then, peradventure, 
 thou mayest find some 6\veetness in them. Expect 
 not learned phrases, or florid expressions ; for many 
 times heavenly matter is hid in mean sentences, or 
 wrapped up in mean expressions. It sometimes 
 pleases God to reveal the mysteries of his kingdom 
 (through the grace of his son our Lord Jesus Christ,) 
 to babes and sucklings; and he oftentimes ordains 
 praise out of their mouths; one of which, reader, I 
 desire thou mayest be. My intent in writing these 
 sheets is that they, through the help of God's graee 
 and the good spirit of Christ, may stir up true love 
 in thee ; first to God and Christ, and then to man ; 
 so thou wilt be fit to be espoused to him, who is 
 altogether lovely, (that is Christ) which is the desire 
 of him who is thy friend, more in heart than word, 
 
 " T. Chalkley." 
 
 By a bequest in his will, the good Quaker 
 founded the Library of the Four Monthly Meet- 
 ings of Friends at Philadelphia. 
 
 AQUILA EOSE. 
 Benjamin Franklin narrates, in his Autobiogra- 
 phy, that on his first visit to Samuel Keimer, the 
 printer, he found him "composing an Elegy on 
 Aquila Rose, an ingenious young man, of excel- 
 lent character, much respected in the town, se- 
 cretary to the Assembly, and a pretty poet." This 
 brief sentence comprises nearly all that is known 
 of the person spoken of beyond the few facts to 
 be gleaned from his own writings, and the com- 
 mendatory verses of a few friends, both com- 
 prised in a pamphlet of 56 pages, entitled, Poems 
 on several occasions, by Aquila Rose: to which 
 are prefixed, some other pieces writ to him, and to 
 his memory after his decease. Collected and pub- 
 lished by his son, Joseph Rose, of Philadelphia. 
 Philadelphia: printed at the New Printing 
 Office, near the Market. 1740. 
 
 Joseph Rose was probably " the son of Aquila 
 Rose," whom Franklin took as an apprentice, as 
 stated in his Autobiography. 
 
 The pamphlet contains the following 
 
 ADVEETISEMENT. 
 
 The good reception the poetical manuscript 
 writings of my deceased father, Aquila Rose, have 
 
 * Some Truly Tender Scruples of Conscience, about that 
 form of prayer called the Common Prayer, and Forcing a 
 Maintenance not warrantable from the Holy Scripture, for a 
 Minister of the Gospel. 
 
98 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 met with in this province, from men of wit and 
 taste, with a desire of some of these to see them 
 printed, induced me to collect what I could. But 
 many of his best pieces were lent out after his 
 decease, by my mother, to persons who have forgot 
 to return them : And perhaps the publishing these 
 few will put them in mind of sending them to me. 
 
 Joseph Rose. 
 
 This is followed by an introductory poem " to 
 the Memory of Aquila Rose, Deceas'd," which in- 
 forms us that, 
 
 Albion his birth, his learning Albion gave; 
 
 To manhood grown, lie cross'd the stormy wave; 
 
 More Arts, and Nature's wond'rous ways to find, 
 
 Illuminate and fortify his mind: 
 
 And to divert his eyes from cross affairs: 
 
 For love disastrous fiU'd his breast with cares. 
 
 In Britain, he would say, he once was bless'd, 
 
 And all the jo}~s of love and life possess'd : 
 
 But some strange power, who envied his repose, 
 
 Chang'd his enjoyments to combining woes; 
 
 Forc'd him to quit his former peaceful way, 
 
 And prove his fortune o'er a foamy sea. 
 
 Dear native land, he sadly said, farewell, 
 
 And those soft shades where love and Silvia dwell: 
 
 Blow soft, ye gales, and waft me from the shore, 
 
 I fly from love, and Silvia see no more. 
 
 Long, then, the wand'rer sail'd from land to land, 
 
 To servile business of rough seas constraint : 
 
 Yet not the less, where'er their vessel steer'd, 
 
 Strangers admir'd him, as his mates rever'd. 
 
 Rose well some post of eminence could grace, 
 
 Who, clad in tar, supplies a sailor's place. 
 
 ******** 
 
 He travels till our western tract he trode, 
 Which, as he found a home, here made his last 
 abode. 
 
 He has a fit of sickness on his arrival, and is, 
 consequently, somewhat dispirited, but cheerful- 
 ness returns with health. 
 
 Then, lively, from his languid bed he rose, 
 Free'd of his pang3 and melancholy woes; 
 Industrious arts his active hands could use; 
 He would the bread of slothful means refuse, 
 Them to his proper livelihood he join'd, 
 Where leaden speech unloads the lab' ring mind, 
 And graven words to distant ages tell 
 What various things in times foregone befell: 
 As Mercury cuts through the yielding sky, 
 So thro' the work his nimble ringers fly: 
 His novel skill spectators thronging drew, 
 Who haste the swift compositor to view; 
 Not men alone, but maids of softer air 
 And nicer fancies, to the room repair: 
 Pleas'd with such mild impediments he frame?, 
 As they request, their dear enchanting names, 
 To grace a book, or feast a lover's eye, 
 Or tell companions of their fancied joy. 
 With complaisance he still dismiss'd the train, 
 None ever sought his courtesy in vain : 
 Each transient fair one took her name away, 
 But thee, Maria — 'Twas thy doom to st;iy ; 
 'Twas soon revers'd, the work of his quick hand, 
 Short did thy name so gaily printed 6tand ; 
 Both hearts consent new letters to compose, 
 And give to thine the pleasing name of Rose. 
 
 Now here the bard by his own choice was ty'd, ' 
 (Renouncing further rambling) to a bride; 
 Albion for Pennsylvania he resigns, 
 And now no more at Silvia's loss repines ; 
 
 Next — 
 
 He counsels with himself what means to use, 
 To live with credit, and what baits refuse ; 
 First, clerk to our Provincial Senate rais'd, 
 He found, besides the stipend, he was praised. 
 
 And now a greater task he takes in hand, 
 Which none but true proprietors understand. 
 What pity 'tis they seldom live to taste 
 The fruits of those pure spirits that they waste 1 
 For works so hard and tedious, was it known 
 A poet e'er did poetry disown i 
 Or for a distant livelihood give o'er 
 Those instant pleasures that he felt before ? 
 Yet so Aquila did — the rustic toil, 
 To make firm landings on a muddy soil, 
 Erect a ferry over Schuylkil's stream, 
 A benefit to thousands — death to him 1 
 
 Look on the stream as it pacific flows, 
 
 Which, largely bending, more the prospect shows, 
 
 A summer sight, none lovelier can be seen, 
 
 And on the shore a varied growth of green : 
 
 The poplars high, erect their stately heads, 
 
 The tawny water-beach more widely spreads ; 
 
 The linden strong in breadth and height, is there, 
 
 With mulberry-leaves — And trees with golden hair, 
 
 These of a smaller stem, like filberds seem, 
 
 But flatter-leaf 'd, and always love the stream. 
 
 Here grows the jagged birch ; and elm, whose 
 
 leaves 
 With sides ill-pair'd the observing eye perceives ; 
 Yet nobly tall and great, it yields a shade 
 In which cool arbours might be fitly made : 
 Such is the linden, such the beech above, 
 Each ik itself contains a little grove. 
 Here hickories, and oaks, and ashes rise, 
 All diff 'ring, but much more in use than size ; 
 And walnuts, with their yellow bitter dyes. 
 The fragrant sassafras enjoys a place ; 
 And crabs, whose thorns their scented blossoms 
 
 grace : 
 Parsimmons vex the ground, so thick the}' shoot, 
 But pleasant is their late autumnal fruit. 
 Tedious to name the shrubby kinds below, 
 That mingled for defence, in clusters grow. 
 Two plants remain, with flow'rs unlike, both fair. 
 And both deserve th' ingenious florist's care; 
 The wild althca, red, and white, and cream, 
 And scarlet cardinal, with dazzling gleam: 
 These tempt the humming bird, whose misty wings 
 Support him as he sucks the flow'r and sings ; 
 Low is his voice, and simple notes but few ; 
 And oft his little body's lost to view ; 
 When he the creeper's blossom tries to drain, 
 The blossom will his beak and tail contain ; 
 But his gay-colored plumage forms a show 
 As mixt and vivid as the sky's fair bow. 
 
 So great variety no tract can boast, 
 Of like dimensions, as this narrow coast. 
 The botanist might here find exercise ; 
 And every curious man regale his eyes. 
 The grass shines glist'ning of a lively green : 
 And northward hence the Quarry-hill is seen, 
 Whose top of late with verd'rous pines is crown'd ; 
 With forest trees of various kinds around. 
 
 And often here, the clearness of the stream 
 And cover'd gravel-banks, invite to swim: 
 But anglers most their frequent visits pay, 
 To toss old-wives, and chubs, and perch to day ; 
 And sometimes find the tasteful trout their prey. 
 Others with greater pains their big hooks bait; 
 But for the nobler bite they seldom wait; 
 The time to know their good success adjourn, 
 And fail not by next morning to return ; 
 
SAMUEL KEIMER. 
 
 99 
 
 Then, hook'd, the weighty rock-fish dvaw to shore 
 By lines to bushes ty'd, or those they moor. 
 
 ****** 
 He saw his causeways firm above the waves, 
 And nigh the deeps unless a storm outbraves ; 
 When gusts unusual, strong with wind and rain, 
 Swell'd Schuylkil's waters o'er the humble plain, 
 Sent hurryiDg all the moveables afloat, 
 And drove afar, the needful'st thing, the boat. 
 
 'Twas then, that wading thro' the chilling flood, 
 A cold ill humour mingled with his blood. 
 
 ****** 
 Physicians try'd their skill, his head relieved, 
 And his lost appetite to strength retriev'd : 
 But all was flatt'ry — so the lamp decays, 
 And near its exit gives an ardent blaze. 
 
 From the title to another poem to the memory 
 of the author in the same collection by Elias 
 Bockett, we learn that Rose died on the twenty- 
 second of August,* 1723, at the age of twenty- 
 eight. The verses collected by his son occupy 
 twenty-six moderate-sized pages only. They 
 display skill and ease in versification : — ■ 
 
 TO HIS COMPANION AT SEA. 
 
 Debarr'd, my friend, of all the joys 
 The land, and charming sex can give, 
 
 Nor wind, nor wave, our peace destroys ; 
 We'll laugh, and drink, and nobly live. 
 
 The gen'rous wine imparts a heat 
 To raise and quicken every sense. 
 
 No thoughts of death our bliss defeat, 
 Nor steal away our innocence. 
 
 Secure, should earth in ruins lie, 
 
 Should seas and skies in rage combine; 
 
 Unmov'd, all dangers we'll defie, 
 
 And feast our souls with gen'rous wine. 
 
 For, should a fear each sense possess, 
 
 Of chilly death and endless fate, 
 Our sorrow ne'er can make it less; 
 
 But wine alone can dissipate. 
 
 Then fill the glass; nay, fill a bowl, 
 And fill it up with sparkling wine; 
 
 It shall the strongest grief controul, 
 And make soft wit with pleasure join. 
 
 To this we may add a copy of verses, written 
 in 1720, proving the antiquity of the now preva- 
 lent American custom of New Year's Carriers' 
 Addresses : — 
 
 PIECE, WROTE BY HIM FOR TnE BOYS WnO CARRIED OUT THE 
 WEEKLY NEWS-PAPERS TO THEIR MASTEP.'b CUSTOMERS IN 
 PHILADELPHIA; TO WHOM COMMONLY, EVERY NEW YEAR'S 
 DAY, THEY PRESENT VERSES OF THIS KIND. 
 
 Full fifty times have roul'd their changes on. 
 
 And all the year's transactions now are done; 
 
 Full fifty times I've trod, with eager haste, 
 
 To bring you weekly news of all things past. 
 
 Some grateful thing is due for such a task, 
 
 Tho' modesty itself forbids to ask ; 
 
 & silver thought, express'd in ill-shap'd ore, 
 
 Is all I wish ; nor would I ask for more. 
 
 To grace our work, swift Mere'ry stands in view; 
 
 I've been a Living Mere'ry still to you. 
 
 Tho' ships and tiresome posts advices bring, 
 
 Till we impress it, 'tis no current thing. 
 
 C n may write, but B d's art alone 
 
 * Keimer gives another date. Antiquaries must choose 
 between them. 
 
 Distributes news to all th' expecting town. 
 How far remov'd is this our western shore, 
 From those dear lands our fathers knew before; 
 Yet our bold ships the raging ocean dare, 
 And bring us constant news of actions there. 
 Quick to your hands the fresh advices come, 
 From England, Sweden, France, and ancient Rome. 
 What Spain intends against the barbarous Moors, 
 Or Russian armies on the Swedish shores. 
 What awful hand pestiferous judgments bears, 
 And lays the sad Marseilles in death and tears. 
 From George alone what peace and plenty spring, 
 The greatest statesman and the greatest king. 
 Long may he live, to us a blessing giv'n, 
 Till he shall change his crown for that of heav'n. 
 The happy day, Dear Sir, appears ag'in, 
 When human nature lodg'd a God within. 
 The angel now was heard amongst the swains ; 
 A God resounds from all the distant plains: 
 O'erjoyed they haste, and left their fleecy care, 
 Found the blest Child, and knew the God was 
 
 there. 
 Yet whilst, with gen'rous breath, you hail the day, 
 And, like the shepherds, sacred homage pay, 
 Let gen'rous thought some kindly grace infuse, 
 To him that brings, with careful speed, your News. 
 
 SAMUEL KEIMER. 
 WnEN" Franklin first arrived in Philadelphia he 
 was taken, it will be remembered, by old Mr. 
 William Bradford, to the office of Keimer, then 
 just commencing business, and engaged npon a 
 performance of his own, which he literally com- 
 posed at the stand, setting up the types as the 
 ideas came to his mind. This was an Elegy on 
 the young printer, Aquila Rose, of whom we have 
 just given some account; and which it was the 
 lot of Benjamin Franklin to print off when its 
 author had finished it. The Elegy has long since 
 become a great literary curiosity, and it cost us 
 some pains to find any reprint of it; but our 
 intention to do justice to the literary associates 
 of Franklin was at last assisted by a reference to 
 Hazard's Register of Pennsylvania, where we 
 found the woful ballad reproduced from its ori- 
 ginal hand-bill form of the year 1723, after a 
 sleep of more than a hundred years, in 1828.* 
 As it is curious as a quaint specimen of printing 
 in the Franklin connexion, besides being a picture 
 of the times, it should be mentioned that it was 
 " ornamented with the usual symbols of death — 
 the head and bones and hour-glass," and that it 
 was " printed in the High-street," for the price 
 of twopence. The italics and capitals are, it 
 strikes us at this day, somewhat capricious. We 
 have preserved them as they occur. 
 
 Keimer, coming from the old world, was a cha- 
 racter. He had been, Franklin tells us, " one of 
 the French prophets, and could act their enthu- 
 siastic agitations," a stock in trade upon which 
 he was disposed to set up in America as the 
 evangelist of a new religion. Franklin was in 
 the habit of arguing with him on the Socratic 
 method, and was so successful that he gained his 
 respect, and an invitation to join him in the 
 partnership of the new doctrines. What they 
 were, the world has never fully learned. It is 
 only known from the Autobiography that " Keimer 
 wore his beard at full length, because somewhere 
 
 * Hazard's PennB. Reg., Nov. 1828, 268. 
 
100 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in the Mosaic law it is said, Thou sJialt not mar 
 the corners of thy heard. He likewise kept the 
 seventh da)' Sabbath ; and these two points were 
 essential with him." His Socratic friend from 
 Massachusetts saw the weakness of his associate, 
 and ingeniously proposed, as an addition, absti- 
 nence from animal food, a trial of which, in a 
 short time, broke down both the man and his 
 system. 
 
 Keimer, after awhile, left for the West Indies, 
 where we hear of him in 1734 as the editor of 
 the Barbadoes Gazette, in which capacity he 
 found himself in the society of a very gentle- 
 manly company of people, who sometimes for- 
 got to pay the printer,* and, somewhat too 
 recklessly ventilating his opinions, was bound 
 over to keep the peace .for sis months for pub- 
 lishing a libel. A collection of papers from this 
 journal was, in 1741, printed in London, with 
 the title, C'aribbcana, in two quarto volumes, 
 arranged in a stiff imitation of the Tatler. There 
 is now and then a tolerable passage, but the mass 
 is a lamentable series of stale, unimportant politics, 
 slightly alleviated by compliments to reigning 
 toasts and beauties, who can no longer by their 
 presence give zest to the dulness of their admirers. 
 This is the last we see of Keimer; but his ghost 
 still walks the earth in vagrant and unsettled 
 members of his craft, equally ready to print other 
 people's ideas and their own, quite as capable of 
 handling the pen as the composing stick, and 
 lucky if their crude tendencies to spiritualism are 
 restrained by as exacting a corporeal system. 
 
 * His complaint on one of these occasions has been pre- 
 served by Thomas in the History of Printing (ii. JJS?). 
 
 Fro:n the Barbadoes Gazelle of .May 4. I7.M. 
 
 To those won' d-be-thought Gentlemen, icho have long taken 
 this paper, and never paid for it, and seem never to design 
 to pay for it. 
 
 The Sorrowful Lamentation of Samuel Keimer, Printer of the 
 
 Barbadoes Gazette. 
 What a pity it is that some modern bravadoes, 
 Who dub themselves gentlemen here in Barbadoes, 
 Should time after time, run in debt to their printer, 
 And care not to pay him in Summer or Winter! 
 A saint by the hairs of his beard, had he got 'em. 
 Might be tempted to swear [instead of P — s rot 'em.] 
 He ne'er found before, such a parcel of wretches, 
 With their flams, and such shuffles, put offs and odd fetches. 
 If this is their honesty, that be their honour, 
 Amendment seize one ; for the last, — fie upon her. 
 In Penn's wooden country, type feels no disaster. 
 Their printer is rich and is made their Post Master;* 
 His father.f a printer, is paid for his work, 
 And wallows in plenty just now at New York, 
 Tho' quite past his labour, and old as my grannum, 
 The government pays him pounds sixty per annum. 
 In Maryland's province, as well as Virginia, 
 To justice and honour, I am. sirs, to win ye, 
 Their printer} I'm sure can make it appear, 
 Each province allows two hundred a year, 
 By laws they have made for Typogrnph's use, 
 He's paid 50 thousand weight country produce. 
 And if you enquire but at South Carolina,§ 
 [Oh, methinks in that name there is something divine, ah!] 
 Like patriots they've done what to honour redounds, 
 They gave him (their currency) 50 score pounds. 
 E'en type at Jamaica, our island's reproach, 
 Is able to ride in ber chariot or coach. 
 But alas your poor type prints no figures like Nullo, 
 Curs'd, cheat'd, abus'd by each pitiful fellow. 
 Tho' working like slave, with zeal and true courage, 
 He can scarce get as yet ev'n salt to bis porridge. 
 The reason is plain ; — those act by just rules — 
 But here knaves have bit him, ail Mac-abite fools. 
 
 * Andrew Bradford, of Phila. 
 
 t William Bradford, of New York. 
 
 i William Parks, who printed for both colonies. 
 
 § Lewis Timothy then printed for the Government of South Carolina. 
 
 AN ELEGY, 
 
 On the much Lamented DEATH of the INGENIOUS 
 and WELL-BELOVED 
 
 AQUILA ROSE, 
 
 CLERK to the Honourable Assembly at Philadel- 
 phia, who died the U4th of the 4th month, 1723. 
 Aged 28. 
 
 What Mournful Accents thus accost mine Ear, 
 What doleful ecchoes hourly thus appear? 
 What Sighs from melting Hearts proclaim aloud, 
 The Solemn Mourning of this numerous Crowd? 
 In Sable CHARACTERS the Kews is Read, 
 Our Rose is withered and our Eagle's fled 
 In that our dear Aquila Rose is dead, 
 Cropt in the Blooming of his precious Youth 1 
 Who can forbear to weep at such a Truth! 
 
 Assist ye Philadelphia!™ with Consent, 
 And join with me to give our Sorrows Vent, 
 That having wept till Tears shall trickling glide, 
 Like Streams to Delaware from Schuylkil bide, 
 My painful Muse being ens'd may then rehearse, 
 Between each Sob, in Elegiack Verse, • 
 
 (And in soft Numbers warble forth Desire,) 
 To breath his Worth, warm'd with Angelic Fire. 
 
 But why do my ambitious Thoughts presume 
 To span the glorious Sun, or grasp the Moon ; 
 The Task confounds ! — But yet 1 dare begin 
 To cast my Mite an humble Off'ring in, 
 That noble Bards in strains more lofty, nuty 
 Conjoiu'd, our great and heavy Loss display, 
 To distant Climes where his Great Worth was 
 
 known, 
 That they to us may eccho back a Groan. 
 For there are bright Youths, who when they hear 
 The dismal Tydings, so his Worth revere, 
 In Lrfelting florid Strains will then rehearse 
 The Praise of Him who constitutes our Verse. 
 
 Belov'd he was by most, his very Name, 
 Doth with deep Silence his great Worth proclaim 
 As if Kind Heaven had Secrets to disclose, 
 By Royal Terms of Eagle and a Rose, 
 The Arms most near akin to England's Crown 
 Each Royal Emblem this sweet Truth does own, 
 And lively noble Images affords, 
 One's Queen of Flowers, the Other King of Birds. 
 
 His Qualities, wdl next bespeak his Fame, 
 A Lovely POET, whose sweet fragrant Name, 
 Will last till circling Years shall cease to be, 
 And sink in vast profound Eternity. 
 His flowing Members and his lofty Rhime, 
 Have breath'd, and spoke his Thoughts, thro' every 
 
 Line, 
 So warm'd my Soul (and oft inspired my Tongae,) 
 As if a Cherub or a Seraph sung. 
 
 A gen'rous Mind tow'rds all his Friends he bore, 
 Scarce one he lost, but daily numb'red more. 
 Some say he'd Foes; his Foes I never knew; 
 Who spoke ill of him, mostly spoke untrue. 
 Courteous, and humble, pleasant, just and wise, 
 No Affectation vain did in him rise. 
 Sincere and plain, (I make not any Doubt) 
 He was the same Within Side as Without. 
 He loved plain Truth, but hated formal Cant 
 In those who Truth and Honesty did want. 
 A curious Artist at his Business, he 
 Could Think, and Speak, Compose, Correct so free, 
 To make a Dead man speak, or Blind to see. 
 
 Of different learned Tongues, he somewhat knew. 
 The French, the Latin, Greek and Hebrew too. 
 Firm to his Vows, a tender Husband prov'd 
 And Father-like, his Princely Babe he Iov'd. 
 
 Our Wise and Great Vice Roy did him respect, 
 Our learned Mayor (I know) DID him affect; 
 Our grave Assembly voted him most fit, 
 
GEORGE WEBB. 
 
 101 
 
 Their wise Debates in Writing to commit, 
 
 By which great Honour they did clearly shew, 
 
 To Write, a; well as Print, he fully knew, 
 
 And what was still more Great, and worthy Note, 
 
 (It's said) they gave him too a Casting Vote. 
 
 But stop my Muse, and give thy Sorrows vent, 
 Such Sorrows which in Hearts of Friends are pent, 
 Search deep for Sighs and Groans in Nature's 
 
 Store, 
 Then weep so long, till thou canst weep no more, 
 Next Summer all thy Strength, and others call, 
 To tell his Death, and solemn Funeral. 
 
 While on his Death-Bed, oft, Dear Lord, he cry'd, 
 He sang, and sweetly like a Lamb he dy'd. 
 His Corps attended was by Friends so toon 
 From Seven at Morn, till One a-clock at Soon, 
 By Master-Printers carried towards his Grave, 
 Our City Printer such an Honour gave. 
 A Worthy Merchant did the Widow lead, 
 And then both mounted on a stately steed, % 
 Next Preachers, Common Council, Aldermen, 
 A Judge and Sheriff' grae'd the solemn Train, 
 Nor fail'd our Treasurer, in respect to come, 
 Nor staid the Keeper of the ROLLS at home, 
 Our aged Post Master here now appears, 
 Who had not walked so far for twice Twelve Years, 
 With Merchants, Shopkeepers, the Young and Old, 
 A numerous Throng not very easy told, 
 The Keeper of the SEAL did on Him wait, 
 Thus was he carry'd like a King, in State, 
 And what still adds a further Lustre to't, 
 Some ro le well mounted, others walk'd afoot, 
 Church-Folks, Dissenters, here with one Accord, 
 Their kind Attendance readily afford, 
 To shew their Love, each differing Sect agree 
 To grace his Fun'ral with their Company, 
 And whab was yet more grateful. People cry'd 
 Belo»d h? liv'd, See how belov'd he dy'd. 
 
 When to the crowded Meeting he was bore, 
 I wept so long till I could weep no more, 
 While biaideoas LIGHTFOOT did, like Noah's 
 
 Dove, 
 Sweetly display God's Universal Love ; 
 His Words like Balm (or Drops of Hoiey) laid, 
 To Ileal those Wounds Grief in my Heart had made. 
 Three other Preachers did their Task fulfil, 
 The Loving Chalklcu and the Lowly Hill, 
 The famous Lanqdale did the Sermons end 
 For this our highly honour'd, worthy Friend. 
 And now with Joy, with holy joy we'll leave, 
 His Body resting in his peaceful Grave, 
 His Soul, in the blest Arms of ONE above. 
 Whose brightest Character is that of LOVE. 
 A GOD that's slow to mark, what's done amiss! 
 Who mould not serve so d:ar a God as this? 
 In whose kind, gracious lovely arms we'll leave 
 him; 
 For HE who bought him, has most Right to have 
 him. 
 
 GEOEGE WEBB 
 
 Is another of Franklin's early literary associates 
 in Philadelphia, whose characters live in the 
 pages of the Autobiography. Franklin found him, 
 on his return from England, a youth of eighteen, 
 apprenticed to his former master Keimer, who 
 had "bought his time" for four years. Webb 
 was a runaway adventurer from England, and 
 gave this account of himself, as Franklin has re- 
 lated it: — ■" That he was born in Gloucester, edu- 
 cated at a grammar-school, and had been distin- 
 guished among the scholars for some apparent 
 superiority in performing his part when they ex- 
 hibited plajs ; belonged to the Wits' Club there, 
 
 and had written some pieces in prose and verse, 
 which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers. 
 Thence was sent to Oxford ; there he continued 
 about a year, but not well satisfied ; wishing, of 
 all things, to see London, and become a player. 
 At length, receiving his quarterly allowance of 
 fifteen guineas, instead of discharging his debts, 
 he went out of town, hid his gown in a furze- 
 bush, and walked to London : where, having no 
 friend to advise him, he fell into bad compair; 
 soon spent his guineas, found no means of being 
 introduced among the players, grew necessitous, 
 pawned his clothes, and wanted bread. Walking 
 the street very hungry, and not knowing what to 
 do with himself, a crimp's bill was put into his 
 hand, offering immediate entertainment and en- 
 couragement to such as would bind themselves to 
 serve in America. He went directly, signed the 
 indentures, was put into the ship and came over ; 
 never writing a line to his friends to acquaint 
 them what was become of him. He was lively, 
 witty, good-natured, and a pleasant companion ; 
 but idle, thoughtless, and imprudent to the last 
 degree." 
 
 Webb was afterwards enabled to raise himself 
 out of his apprenticeship into a partnership with 
 Keimer, and he became a member of Franklin's 
 conversation club, the Junto; and in 1731 per- 
 petrated a copy of verses, entitled Batchelors 1 
 Hall, descriptive of a place of entertainment in 
 the suburbs, which was published with the honor- 
 able title of " A Poem," with a motto from Cicero 
 on the title-page, and two complimentary effu- 
 sions in verse by J. Brientnall and J. Taylor, who 
 showed themselves hopeful of the American muse 
 on the occasion. 
 
 Taylor at the time kept a mathematical school 
 in the city, and published an almanac,* which 
 preceded Franklin's. He published in 172S a 
 poetical piece entitled Pennsylvania. He was 
 alive in 1736, in an extreme old age. 
 
 What further became of Webb we know not. 
 We are content with this look at him through 
 the Franklin microscope. 
 
 BATCITELOES' BALL: A POEM. 
 
 spring, thou fairest season of the year, 
 
 How lovely soft, how sweet dost thou appear ! 
 
 What pleasing landskips meet the gazing eye! 
 
 How beauteous nature does with nature vie: 
 
 Gay scenes around the fancy does invite, 
 
 And universal beauty prompts to write. 
 
 But chiefly that proud Dome on Delaware's stream, 
 
 Of this my humble song the nobler theme, 
 
 Claims all the tribute of these rural lays, 
 
 And tunes e'en my harsh voice to sing its praise. 
 
 Say, goddess, tell me, for to thee is known, 
 What is, what was, and what shall e'er be done ; 
 
 * The first book printed in Pennsylvania was " An Almanac 
 for the Tear of the Christian Account 16S7. By Daniel Leeds, 
 Student, in Agriculture. Printed and sold by William Brad- 
 ford, near Philadelphia, in Pennsylvania, pro anno 1<>S7." 
 Leeds left the colony not Ion*; after in dudgeon with the 
 Quakers, as we may infer from his pamphlet published by 
 Bradford, in New York, in 1699 : " A Trumpet sounded out of 
 the Wilderness of America, which may serve as a warning to 
 the government and people of England to beware of Quaker- 
 ism ; wherein is shown how in Pennsylvania and thereaway, 
 where they have the government in their own hands, they 
 hire and encourage men to tight ; and bow they persecute, 
 fine, and imprison, and take away goods for conscience' sake." 
 — Fisher's Early Poets, Pa. 
 
102 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Why stands this dome erected on the plain? 
 For pleasure was it built, or else for gain ? 
 For midnight revels was it ever thought, 
 Shall impious doctrines ever here be taught? 
 Or else for nobler purposes design'd, 
 To cheer and cultivate the mind, 
 With mutual love each glowing breast inspire, 
 Or cherish friendship's now degenerate fire. 
 Say, goddess, say, do thou the truth reveal, 
 Say, what was the design, if good or ill? 
 
 Fired with the business of the noisy town, 
 
 The weary Batchelors their cares disown ; 
 
 For this loved seat they all at once prepare, 
 
 And long to breathe the sweets of country air ; 
 
 On nobler thoughts their active minds employ, 
 
 And a select variety enjoy. 
 
 'Tis not a revel, or lascivious night, 
 
 That to this hall the Batchelors invite ; 
 
 Much less shall impious doctrines here be taught, 
 
 Blush ye accusers at the very thought : 
 
 For other, O far other ends designed, 
 
 To mend the heart, and cultivate the mind. 
 
 Mysterious nature here unveil'd shall be, 
 
 And knotty points of deep philosophy ; 
 
 Whatever wonders undiscover'd are, 
 
 Deep hid in earth, or flo:itiug high in air, 
 
 Though in the darkest womb of night involv'd, 
 
 Shall by the curious searcher here be solv'd. 
 
 Close to the dome a garden shall be join'd, 
 
 A fit employment for a studious mind : 
 
 In our vast woods whatever samples grow, 
 
 Whose virtues none, or none but Indians know, 
 
 Within the confines of this garden brought, 
 
 To rise with added lustre shall be taught ; 
 
 Then cull'd with judgment each shall yield its juice, 
 
 Saliferous balsam to the sick man's use : 
 
 A longer date of life mankind shall boast, 
 
 And death shall mourn her ancient empire lost. 
 
 But yet sometimes the all-inspiring bowl 
 
 To laughter shall provoke and cheer the soul ; 
 
 The jocund tale to humor shall invite, 
 
 And dedicate to wit a jovial night. 
 
 Not the false wit the cheated world admires. 
 
 The mirth of sailors, or of country squires ; 
 
 Nor the gay punster's, whose quick sense affords 
 
 Nought but a miserable play on words ; 
 
 Nor the grave quidnunc 1 a, whose inquiring head 
 
 With musty scraps of journals must be fed : 
 
 But condescending, genuine, apt, and fit, 
 
 Good nature is the parent of true wit; 
 
 Though gay, not loose; though learned, yet still 
 
 clear ; 
 Though bold, yet modest; human, though severe; 
 Though nobly thirsting after honest fame. 
 In spite of wit's temptation, keeping friendship's 
 
 name. 
 
 O friendship, heavenly flame ! by far above 
 
 The ties of nature, or of dearer love : 
 
 How beauteous are thy paths, how well designed, 
 
 To 60othe the wretched mortal's restless mind ! 
 
 By thee inspir'd we wear a soul sedate, 
 
 And cheerful tread the thorny paths of fate. 
 
 Then music too shall cheer this fair abode, 
 
 Music, the sweetest of the gifts of God ; 
 
 Music, the language of propitious love; 
 
 Music, that things inanimate can move. 
 
 Ye winds be hush'd, let no presumptuous breeze 
 
 Now dare to whistle through the rustling trees ; 
 
 Thou Delaware a while forget to roar, 
 
 Nor dash thy foaming surge against the shore : 
 
 Be thy green nymphs upon thy surface found. 
 
 And let thy stagnant waves confess the sound ; 
 
 Let thy attentive fishes all be nigh » 
 For fish were always friends to harmony ; 
 Witness the dolphin which Arion bore, 
 And landed safely on his native shore. 
 
 Let doting cynics snarl, let noisy zeal 
 Tax this design with act or thought of ill ; 
 Let narrow souls their rigid morals boast, 
 Till in the shadowy name the virtue's lost; 
 Let envy strive their character to blast, 
 And fools despise the sweets they cannot taste ; 
 This certain truth let the inquirer know, 
 It did from good and generous motives flow. 
 
 JOSEPH BRIENTNALL 
 
 Was! another member of the " Junto," whom 
 Franklin has sketched in a few words : — " A 
 copier of deeds for the scriveners, — a good-na- 
 tured, ^friendly, middle-aged man, a great lover of 
 poetiy, reading all he could meet with, and writ- 
 ing some that was tolerable ; very ingenious in 
 making little knick-knackeries, and of sensible 
 conversation." 
 
 AVhen Jieimer, through the treacherous friend- 
 ship of the Oxford scapegrace Webb, became 
 acquainted with Franklin's plan of starting a 
 newspaper, and anticipated the project ; Franklin, 
 whose plans were not fully lipe, threw the weight 
 of his talentintothe oppositionjoumal of Bradford, 
 The Weekly Mercury, where he commenced pub- 
 lishing the series of Essays, in the manner of the 
 Spectator, entitled, The Bttsy-Body* The first, 
 fifth, and eighth numbers were Franklin's, and 
 they were afterwards continued for some months 
 by Brientnall. A more practical satisfaction soon 
 followed, when Keimer's paper fell into Franklin's 
 hands, and became known as the Philadelphia 
 Gazette, of 1729. As a specimen of Brientnall 
 we take his lines prefixed to Webb's " Batchelors' 
 Hall:"' 
 
 The generous Muse concern'd to see 
 Detraction bear so great a sway, 
 
 Descends sometimes, as now to thee, 
 To chase ill fame and spite away. 
 
 Censorious tongues, which nimbly move, 
 Each virtuous name to persecute, 
 
 Thy muse has taught the truth to prove, 
 And be to base conjectures mute. 
 
 Let every deed that merits praise, 
 
 Be justly crown'd with spritely verse ; 
 
 And every tongue shall give the bays 
 
 To him whose lines they, pleas'd, rehearse. 
 
 Long stand the dome, the garden grow, 
 And may thy song prove always true : 
 
 I wish no greater good below, 
 
 Than this to hear, and that to view. 
 
 JAMES RALPH. 
 
 The exact birthplace of this writer, who at- 
 tained considerable distinction by his political 
 pamphlets and histories in England, and whose 
 memory has been embalmed for posterity in the 
 autobiography of Franklin and the Dunciad of 
 Pope, has never been precisely ascertained. Wc 
 first hear of him in the company of Franklin at 
 Philadelphia, as one of his young literary cronies 
 whom the sage confesses at that time to have in- 
 
 * It wns evidently considered a prominent fcaturo of Iho 
 small sheet in which it appeared. 
 
JAMES RALPH. 
 
 103 
 
 doctrinated in infidelity. In those days Ralph 
 was " a clerk to a merchant," and much inclined 
 to "give himself up entirely to poetry. He 
 was," adds Franklin, " ingenious, genteel in his 
 manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think I 
 never knew a prettier talker." He embarked 
 with Franklin, as is well known, on his first voy- 
 age to England, leaving a wife and child behind 
 him, as an illustration of his opinions, and the two 
 cronies spent their money in London together, 
 " inseparable companions" in Little Britain. Ralph 
 rapidly went through all the phases of the old 
 London school of preparation for a hack political 
 pamphleteer. He tried the playhouse, but Wilkes 
 thought he had no qualifications for the stage ; 
 he projected a weekly paper on the plan of the 
 Spectator, but the publisher Roberts did not ap- 
 prove of it ; and even an attempt at the drudgery 
 of a scrivener with the Temple lawyers was un- 
 successful. He managed, however, to associate 
 with his fortunes a young milliner who lodged in 
 the house with the two adventurers ; but he was 
 compelled to leave her, and go into the country 
 for the employment of a schoolmaster, and Frank- 
 lin took advantage of his absence to make some 
 proposals to the mistress which were rejected, 
 and which Ralph pleaded afterwards as a receipt 
 in full for all his obligations, pecuniary and other- 
 wise, to his friend. While in the provinces, where, 
 by the way, he called himself Mr. Franklin, he 
 found employment in writing an epic poem which 
 he sent by instalments to his friend at London, 
 who dissuaded him from it, and backed his 
 opinions with a copy of Young's satire on the 
 folly of authorship, which was then just pub- 
 lished. He continued scribbling verses, however, 
 till, as Franklin says, "Pope cured him." His 
 first publication appears to have been Night, a 
 poem, in 1728, which is commemorated in the 
 couplet of the Dunciad : 
 
 Silence, ye wolves, while Ralph to Cynthia howls, 
 And makes Night hideous — answer him ye owls:* 
 
 a compliment which was paid not so much to that 
 poem, whatever its demerits, as to a poetical 
 squib which Ralph had published, entitled Saw- 
 ney, reflecting unpleasently on Pope, Swift, and 
 Gay. Night was followed" in 1729 by the Epic 
 Zeuma, or the Lore of Liberty. It is an octavo 
 volume in three books, a story of love and war 
 of a Peruvian chieftain whose mistress is captured 
 by the Spaniards, and recovered again, while the 
 hero falls in a grand battle. Of this work the 
 curious reader of Franklin may be pleased with a 
 specimen, and we accordingly quote a passage 
 from a copy in the Harvard College library, the 
 only one we have met with. 
 
 Tis hard for man, bewilder'd in a maze 
 Of doubtful reas'nings, to assign the cause 
 Why heav'n's all-ruling pow'r supremely just 
 And good, shou'd give Iberia's cruel sons 
 Unbounded leave to travel o'er the globe. 
 And search remotest climes ; to stretch their sway 
 Through all the western world ; to exile Peace " 
 And Liberty, with all their train of joys 
 From the afflicted lands ; and proudly vex 
 Th' unhappy nations with oppressive rule. 
 
 * Book iii. 16Wi. His name ia also mentioned. Book 
 216. ^ 
 
 In age3 paBt, as time revolv'd the year, 
 'Twas all a round of innocent delights ; 
 The fearless Natives rarely heard of war 
 And its destructive ills; Famine, Disease, 
 And all the various plagues of other realms, 
 Were there unknown; life was a constant scene 
 Of harmless pleasures ; and, when full of days, 
 The woodland hunter and the toiling swain 
 Like ripen'd fruit that, in the midnight shade, 
 Drops from the bough, in peace and silence sank 
 Into the grave. But when the Spanish troops, 
 In search of plunder, crowded on the shore, 
 And claimed, by right divi?ie, the sovereign rule, 
 Another scene began ; and all the woes, 
 Mankind can sutler, took their turn to reign. 
 
 A Pindaric ode in blank verse, The Muse's Ad- 
 dress to the King, was another of Ralph's poetical 
 attempts. The year 1730 produced a play, The 
 Fashionable Lady, or Harlequin's Opera, per- 
 formed at Goodman's Fields, followed by several 
 others, The Fall of the Earl of Essex, Lawyer's 
 Feast, and Astrologer. Pope, not the fairest 
 witness, says that he praised himself in the jour- 
 nals, and that upon being advised to study the 
 laws of dramatic poetry before he wrote for the 
 stage, he replied, " Shakspeare writ without 
 rules."* His ability at writing, however, and 
 making himself useful, gained him the support 
 of Dodington, and secured him a puff in that 
 politician's Diary. He wrote in the newspapers 
 of the day, the London Journal, the Weekly 
 Medley, and published The Remembrancer in the 
 use of his patron. His History of England 
 during the reigns of King William, Queen Anne, 
 and George L. ; with an Introductory Renew of the 
 reigns of the Royal Brothers Charles II. and 
 James II. ; in which are to be found the seeds of 
 the Revolution, was published in two huge folios, 
 1744-6, and he is said to have had in it Doding- 
 ton's assistance. He was also the author of two 
 octavo volumes on The Use and Abuse of Parlia- 
 ments from 1660 to 1744, and a Review of the 
 Public Buildings of London, in 1731, has been 
 attributed to him. Charles James Fox has spoken 
 well of his historical " acuteness" and " diligence," 
 and noticed his " sometimes falling into the com- 
 mon error of judging bj' the event."t His last 
 production in 1758, for which his active experi- 
 ences had fully supplied him with material, was 
 entitled The Case of Authors by Profession or 
 Trade Stated, with regard to Booksellers, the 
 Stage and the Public. " It is," says Drake, 
 " composed with spirit and feeling ; enumerating 
 all the bitter evils incident to an employment so 
 precarious, and so inadequately rewarded ; and 
 abounds in anecdote and entertainment."! Hav- 
 ing thus recorded what he had learnt of this 
 profession, and obtained a pension too late to 
 enjoy it long, he died of a fit of the gout at 
 Chiswick, Jan. 24, 1762.} 
 
 * Note tn the Dunciad, Bk. iii. v. 165. This is Pope'3 own 
 note, not Warbnrton's, as Chalmers alleges. 
 
 t History of James II. 4to. 179. 
 
 X One of tlie anecdotes of Ralph is particularly amusing. We 
 once read it among some manuscript notes by Mrs. Pinzzi, to 
 a copy of Johnson's Lives of the Poets. Garrick wishing to 
 invite Ralph to a dinner party at his house, told his servant to 
 carry him a card. The Milesian mistaking the order, went 
 after him witli Mr. Garrick's respects, who had sent a cart to 
 bring him to dinner. It is needless to add he was missing at 
 the table. Upon the host making inquiry it was found that 
 Mr. Ralph had expressed his disapproval of the conveyance. 
 
 § Franklin's Autobiography. Chalmers's Biog. Diet." Drako's 
 
104 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 BENJAMIN FEANKLIN. 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, whose very name, since it 
 was consecrated by the poet Chaucer, is freshly 
 suggestive of freedom, was born in Boston, Janu- 
 ary 17, 1706. He was the youngest son of the 
 youngest son for five generations, the fifteenth child 
 of his father out of a family of seventeen, fourteen 
 of whom were born in America, and of these ten 
 were the children of his mother, the second wife, 
 and all grew up to years of maturity and were 
 married. His father was a non-conformist emi- 
 grant from England, who came to Boston about 
 
 Birthplace of Franklin. 
 
 1685, a man of strength and prudence of cha- 
 racter; descended from a family which, though it 
 could claim no other nobility than in nature's he- 
 raldry of honest labor, had shown considerable 
 persistency in that; holding on to a small freehold 
 estate of thirty acres in Northamptonshire for a 
 period of three hundred years, the eldest son stea- 
 dily pursuing the business of a smith. Franklin 
 was not averse to these claims of antiquity. In 
 his Autobiography he mentions having examined 
 the registers at Ecton, and " found an account of 
 the family marriages and burials from the year 
 1555 only" An uncle who died four years before 
 his illustrious nephew was born, heralded the 
 rising instincts of the race by his struggles out of 
 the smithery into a legal education, and a position 
 of considerable influence in the county. There 
 was also some taste for literature making its ap- 
 pearance from another uncle, Benjamin, our 
 Franklin's godfather, who lived to an old age in 
 Boston, and left behind him, in 1728, two quarto 
 volumes of manuscript poems, occasional family 
 verses, acrostics, and the like. One of these com- 
 positions, sent to the young Benjamin at the. age 
 of seven, on some demonstration of precocity, 
 turned out to be prophetic. 
 
 BENT TO BENJAMIN FEANKLIN, 1718. 
 
 'Tis time for me to throw aside my pen, 
 
 "When hanging sleeves read, write, and rhyme like 
 
 men. 
 This forward spring foretells a plenteous crop; 
 For, if the bud bear grain, what will the top! 
 
 Essays, Biog. Grit, & Hist. 1Si9. i 94 Mcbols's Literavy 
 Anccdotes, ix. 59u. 
 
 If plenty in the verdant blade appear, 
 What may we not soon hope for in the ear! 
 When flowers are beautiful before they're blown, 
 What rarities will afterward be shown ! 
 If trees good fruit un'noculated bear, 
 You may be sure 't will afterward be rare. 
 If fruits are sweet before they've time to yellow, 
 How luscious will they be when they are mellow! 
 If first year's shoots such noble clusters send, 
 What laden boughs, Engedi-like, may we expect in 
 the end! 
 
 In 1710 he had written this Acrostic to his 
 nephew. 
 
 Be to thy parents an obedient son ; 
 Each day let duty constantly be done; 
 Kever give way to sloth, or lust, or pride, 
 If free you'd be from thousand ills beside ; 
 Above all ills be sure avoid the shelf 
 Man's danger lies in Satan, sin, and self. 
 In virtue, learning, wisdom, progress make; 
 Ne'er shrink at suffering for thy Saviour's sake. 
 
 Fraud and all falsehood in thy dealings flee. 
 Religious always in thy station be; 
 Adore the maker of thy inward part, 
 Now's the accepted time, give him thy heart; 
 Keep a good conscience, 'tis a constant friend, 
 Like judge and witness this thy acts attend. 
 In heart with bended knee, alone, adore 
 None but the Three in One for evermore.* 
 
 Franklin's mother represented a literary nsiua 
 of the old province of Massachusetts. She was 
 the daughter of Peter Folger, of whose little poeti- 
 cal volume, " A Looking Glass for the Times," 
 asserting liberty of conscience, we have already 
 given some account.t 
 
 The early incidents of Franklin's life are hap- 
 pily familiar, through the charming pages of the 
 Autobiography, to every American reader. There 
 is not an intelligent school-boy who does not know 
 the story of his escape from the noisome soap and 
 candle manufactory of his father into the printing- 
 office of his brother ; his commencement of the 
 literary life, when, like the young Oliver Gold- 
 smith, he wrote ballads for the streets, on the 
 Light-house tragedy and Black-beard the pirate, 
 and desisted from this unprofitable course of poetry 
 when his father told him that " verse makers were 
 generally beggars ;" his borrowing books and sit- 
 ting up in the night to read them ; buying others 
 for himself, and finding opportunity to study them, 
 by the savings of time and money in his printing- 
 office dinner of a slice of bread and a glass of 
 water; his stealthily slipping his articles under 
 the door of his newspaper office, the New England 
 Courant, at night ; his endurance of various slights 
 and humilities, till nature and intellect grew too 
 strong in him for his brother's tyranny, when he 
 broke the connexion of his apprenticeship and be- 
 took himself to Philadelphia, where he ate that 
 
 * Mr. Sparks supplies these passages from the MS. volumes 
 still preserved in Boston. "The handwriting 1 ," says he, "is 
 beautiful, with occasional specimens of shorthand, in which 
 Dr. Franklin says his uncle was skilled. The poetical merits 
 of the compositions cannot he ranked high, but frequently the 
 measure is smooth and the rhymes are well chosen. His 
 thoughts run chiefly on moral and religious subjects. Many 
 of the Psalms are paraphrased in metre. The making of acros- 
 tics on the names of his friends was a favorite exercise. There 
 are likewise numerous proofs of his ingenuity in forming ana- 
 grams, crosses, ladders, and other devices." Appendix, to LU'o 
 of Franklin, Works, i. 540. 
 
 t Aide, p. S3. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIK 
 
 105 
 
 Memorable " puffy" roll in the streets, observed as 
 he wont along by Miss Read, his future wife ; his 
 first sleep in the city in the Quaker meeting ; his 
 printing-house work and education ; his singular 
 association with Governor Keith, and the notice 
 which he received from Burnet, the Governor of 
 New York, as he journeyed along, marking thus 
 earl} T his career and influence with titled person- 
 ages, which carried him to the thrones of kings 
 themselves. 
 
 That " odd volume of the Spectator," too, 
 which directed his youthful tastes, how often do 
 we meet with its kindly influences in American 
 literature. It turns up again and again in the 
 pages of Freneau, Dennie, Paulding, Irving; and 
 we have had another good look at it lately 
 through the lorgnette of Master Ik Marvel.* 
 
 Franklin left Boston at seventeen, in 1723 ; 
 visited England the following year, worked at his 
 trade, and wrote a treatise of infidel metaphysics, 
 and returned to Philadelphia in 1726. The plan 
 for the conduct of life which he wrote on this 
 voyage homewards, lias been lost. Its scope may 
 be readily gathered from his writings. Industry, 
 we may be sure, formed a prominent feature in 
 it, and economy of happiness the next, by which 
 a man should live on as good terms as possible 
 with himself and his neighbors. In his early life, 
 Franklin had exposed himself to some danger by 
 his habit of criticism. More than one passage of 
 Ids writings warns the reader against this ten- 
 dency. Though he never appears to have wanted 
 firmness on proper occasions, he settled down upon 
 tha resolution to speak ill of no one whatever, 
 and as much good as possible of everybody. 
 
 On his return to Philadelphia, he established 
 the club, the Junto, which lasted many years, and 
 was a means not only of improvement but of po- 
 litical influence, as his opportunities for exercising 
 it increased. The steps of Franklin's progress 
 were now rapid. He established himself as a 
 printer, purchased the Pennsylvania Gazette, then 
 recently started, and which he had virtually pro- 
 jected in 1729 ; published the same year a 
 pamphlet, A Modest Enquiry into the Nature 
 and Necessity of a Paper Currency ; married in 
 1730 ; assisted in founding the Philadelphia 
 Library in 1731 ; the next year published his Al- 
 manac; was chosen in 1736 clerk of the General 
 Assembly ; became deputy postmaster at Phila- 
 delphia in 1737 ; was all tins while a printer, and 
 publishing the newspaper, not dividing the duties 
 of his printing office with a partner until 1748 ; 
 in 1741 published The General Magazine and 
 Historical Chronicle for all the British Planta- 
 tions in America; invented the stove which 
 bears his name in 1742 ; proposed the American 
 ■Philosophical Society in 1743 ; established the 
 Academy, out of which the University of Penn- 
 sylvania finally grew, in 1749 ; in 1752 demon- 
 strated his theory of the identity of lightning 
 with electricity by his famous kite experiment in 
 a field near Philadelphia ; on the anticipation of 
 war with France was sent as a delegate to the 
 Congress of Commissioners of the Colonies at 
 Albany in 1754, where he proposed a system of 
 
 * Franklin did not forjret the Spectator, the friend of his 
 boyhood, in his last days. In his will he bequeathes to the son 
 of his friend, Mrs. Ilewson, "a set of Spectators, Tatlers, and 
 Guardians, handsomely bound.' 1 
 
 union which in important points anticipated the 
 present Confederation ; opposed taxation by par- 
 liament; assisted Braddock's Expedition by his 
 energy ; was himself for a short time a military 
 commander on the frontier in 1756 ; was the 
 next year sent to England by the Assembly, a 
 popular representative against the pretensions of 
 the Proprietaries, when Massachusetts, Maryland, 
 and Georgia also appointed him their agent ; 
 took part in the Historical Review of Pennsyl- 
 vania, a trenchant volume on the affairs of the 
 Colony, in 1759 ; wrote a pamphlet, The Interest 
 of Great Britain Considered in the retention of 
 Canada, in 1760 ; received the degree of Doctor 
 of Laws from the Universities of Edinburgh and 
 Oxford, and returned to America in 1762. Two 
 years after he returned to England as Colonial 
 agent ; pursued his course industriously and 
 courteously for the interests of the old Govern- 
 ment, but firmly for the right claimed at home ; 
 bore a full Examination before Parliament on the 
 relations of America to the Stamp Act, which was 
 published and read with general interest ; was con- 
 fronted by Wedderburn, the Solicitor-General for 
 the crown, as counsel for Hutchinson at the me- 
 morable privy council examination of January, 
 1774; returned again to Philadelphia in 1775 ; 
 signed the Declaration of Independence in Con- 
 gress ; went ambassador to France in October of 
 the same year, when he was seventy, and dis- 
 played his talents in diplomacy and society ; 
 returning after signing the treaty of peace in 1785 
 to America, when he was made President of the 
 Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for three years ; 
 was a delegate to the Federal Convention in 1787, 
 and retaining his full powers of mind and consti- 
 tutional cheerfulness to the last, died April 17, 
 1790, in his eighty-fourth year. 
 
 The famous epitaph which he wrote in his days 
 of youth, at the age of twenty-three, was not 
 placed over his grave in Philadelphia. 
 
 The Body 
 
 Of 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, 
 
 Printer, 
 
 (Like the cover of an old book, 
 
 Its contents torn out, 
 
 And stript of its lettering and gilding,) 
 
 Lies here, food for worms. 
 
 Yet the work itself shall not be lost, 
 
 For it will, as he believed, appear once more, 
 
 In a new 
 
 And more beautiful edition, 
 
 Corrected and amended 
 
 By 
 
 The Author.* 
 
 * We have already printed, and', p. 22, Wood bridge's epitaph 
 on Cotton, supposed to be the original of this. There is an- 
 other old New England source in the lines written in 1G81, by 
 Joseph Capen, Minister of Topsfield.on the death of John 
 Foster, who, Mr. Sparks tells us, set up the first printing-press 
 in Boston. 
 
 Thy body, which no activeness did lack, 
 
 Now'slaid aside like an old almanac; 
 
 But for the present only's out of date, 
 
 'Twill have at length a far more active state. 
 
 Tea, though with dust thy body soiled be, 
 
 Yet at the resurrection we shall see 
 
 A fair edition, and of matchless worth. 
 
 Free from Errata, new in Heaven set forth; 
 
 'Tis but a word frnm G<>d. the srreat Creator, 
 
 It shall be done when he saith Imprimatur. 
 DavU, i:i his Travels in Ameiica, finds another sourco for 
 
106 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 He directed a simpler inscription in his will : — 
 " I wish to be buried by the side of my wife, if it 
 may be, and that a marble stone, to be made by 
 Chambers, six feet long, four feet wide, plain, 
 with only a small moulding round the upper edge, 
 and this inscription, 
 
 Benjamin ) 
 
 AND > FbANKLTN. 
 
 Deborah ) 
 
 178—. 
 be placed over us both." 
 
 One of the most memorable incidents in Frank- 
 lin's life, was his appearance, in 1774, before the 
 Committee of the Privy Council, on the hearing 
 of the Petition of the Massachusetts people, for 
 the recall of Hutchinson and Oliver, whose mina- 
 tory letters he had been instrumental in publish- 
 ing, and thereby lighted the torch of Revolution. 
 Franklin had there to meet the assault of Wed- 
 derburn, the Solicitor-General of the Crown, who 
 attacked him with the sharpest wit and fiercest 
 insolence. Franklin represented his agency in the 
 matter of procuring and forwarding the letters to 
 America, as a public act, dealing with the public 
 correspondence of public men. Wedderburn in- 
 veighed against it as a theft, and betrayal of 
 private confidence. " Into what companies," he 
 exclaimed, "will the fabricator of this iniquity 
 hereafter go with an unembarrassed face, or with 
 any semblance of the honest intrepidity of vir- 
 tue? Men will watch him with a jealous eye — 
 they will hide their papers from him, and lock up 
 their escritoires. Having hitherto aspired after 
 fame by his writings, he will henceforth esteem 
 it a libel to be called a man of letters — homo 
 trium literarum ;"* and, in allusion to Franklin's 
 avowal of his share in the transaction — " I can 
 compare him only to Zanga, in Dr. Young's Re- 
 venge — 
 
 Know, then, 'twas I, 
 I forged the letter — I disposed the picture — 
 I hated, I despised — and I destroy. 
 
 I ask, my Lord, whether the revengeful temper 
 attributed by poetic fiction only to the bloody- 
 
 this, in a Latin Epitaph on the London bookseller, Jacob Ton- 
 son, published with an English translation in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine for Feb. 1736. This is its conclusion — 
 When heaven review' d th 1 original text, 
 Twas with erratas few perplex'd: 
 Pleas'd with the copy was collated, 
 And to a better life translated. 
 But let to life this supplement 
 Be printed on thy monument, 
 Lest the.first page of death should be, • 
 
 Great editor a blank to thee ; 
 And thou who many titles gave. 
 Should want one title for this grave. 
 " Stay passenger and drop a tear ; 
 Here lies a noted Bookseller : 
 This marble index here is plac'd 
 To tell, that when he found drfac'd 
 His book of life he died with grief: 
 Yet he by true and genuine belief, 
 A new edition may expect, 
 Far more enlarg'd and more correct." 
 * The old Roman joke on a thief — the word of three letters, 
 fur. It occurs in Plautus. 
 Anthrax. — Tun' trium litterarum homo Me vituperas? 
 Congrio. — Fur, etiam fur trifurcifer. 
 
 Aulularia, Act ii. sc. iv. v. 46-7. 
 which Eiley thus Englishes : 
 
 Anth. — You, vou three-lettered fellow, do you abuse me, you 
 thief? 
 
 Congrio. — To be sure I do, you .trebly-distilled thief of 
 thieves. 
 
 Bohn's Plautus, i. 391. 
 
 minded African, is not surpassed by the coolness 
 and apathy of the wily New Englander."* 
 
 A distinguished company was present in the 
 Council Chamber; among others, Burke, Priestley, 
 and Jeremy Bentham. The last has described 
 Franklin's quiet endurance of the scene : " Alone 
 in the recess, on the left hand of the president, 
 standing, remaining the whole time like a rock, 
 in the same posture, his head resting on his left 
 hand, and in that attitude abiding the pelting of 
 the pitiless storm. "t Priestley} says that Lord 
 North was the only one of the council who be- 
 haved with decent gravity. To conciliate his 
 fellow Englishmen, Franklin had dressed himself 
 carefully for the occasion in a costly suit of Man- 
 chester velvet, and Priestley adds the story of 
 Franklin's triumph : — " Silas Deane told me that, 
 when they met at Paris to sign the treaty be- 
 tween France and America, he purposely put on 
 that suit."§ Verily Franklin had his revenge in 
 the swift pursuing decrees of fate. An epigram- 
 matist of the times declared the end : — 
 
 Sarcastic sawney, full of spite and hate, 
 On modest Franklin poured his venal prate; 
 The calm philosopher without reply 
 Withdrew — and gave his country liberty :| 
 
 and the retributive pen of the historian has 
 pointed to the final reputation of the two actors 
 in the scene — the usurping tyrant of the hour 
 and the generous benefactor of the age. " Frank- 
 lin and Wedderburn parted; the one to spread 
 the celestial fire of freedom among men ; to make 
 his name a cherished household word in every 
 nation of Europe ; and in the beautiful language 
 of AVashington, ' to be venerated for benevolence, 
 to be admired for talents, to be esteemed for pa- 
 triotism, to be beloved for philanthropy :' the 
 other, childless though twice wedded, unbeloved, 
 wrangling with the patron who had impeached 
 his veracity, busy only in ' getting everything he 
 could' in the way of titles and riches, as the 
 wages of corruption. Franklin, when he died, 
 had nations for his mourners, and the great and 
 the good throughout the world as his eulogists ; 
 when Wedderburn died there was no man to 
 mourn; no senate spoke his praise; no poet 
 embalmed his memory; and his King, hearing 
 that he was certainly dead, said only, " then he 
 has not left a greater knave behind him in mv 
 dominions.' r 1f 
 
 The finest study of Franklin is in his Auto- 
 biography. Simple in style, it is tinged by the 
 peculiar habit of the author's mind, and shows 
 his humor of character in perfection. Notice, for 
 instance, the lurking tone of admiration of the 
 
 * Chief Justice Campbells Lives of the Lord Chancellors, 
 vi. 103-^L He introduces this '•memorable contest' ' with thu 
 ballad quotation, 
 
 The babe that was unborn might rue 
 The speaking of that day. 
 
 t Campbell's Chancellors, vi. 101. 
 
 ± It was in a letter dated Nov. 10, 1SC2, at Northumberland, 
 in Pennsylvania, which appeared in the London Monthly Maga- 
 zine for February, 1SC3. It is printed in the appendix to the 
 Priestley Memoirs, 448-454. 
 
 § Mr. Sparks notices the common error in telling this story 
 adopted by Lord Brougham in his sketch of Wedderburn, 
 which makes Franklin to have worn the dress the second time 
 at the signing of the peace of Versailles. — Life of Franklin, 4£S, 
 
 II Notes and Queries, No. 116. 
 
 •f Bancroft, vi. 499. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 107 
 
 crafty old sopliister, in the account of the conversa- 
 tion of old Bradford with Keimer, the printer, on 
 Franklin's first introduction; or the adroitness 
 with which, when he is about being caught in his 
 own web, when he is recommending modesty in 
 proposing critical opinions, and falls himself to 
 amending a couplet of Pope — he ventures his 
 emendation, and recovers his position by adding, 
 "This, however, I should submit to better judg- 
 ments." 
 
 There is a simplicity in this book which charms 
 us in the same way with the humorous touches 
 ©f nature in the Vicar of Wakefield. Franklin's 
 Boston brother in the printing-office, — irascible, 
 jealous, and mortified on the return of the success- 
 ful adventurer, who is playing off his prosperity 
 before the workmen, is an artist's picture of life, 
 drawn in a few conclusive touches. So, too, is 
 Keimer as happily hit off as any personage in Gil 
 Bias, particularly in that incident at the break-up 
 of Franklin's system of vegetable diet, which he 
 had adopted ; he invites his journeymen and two 
 women frienus to dine with him, providing a 
 roa^t pig for the occasion, which being prema- 
 turely served up, is devoured by the enthusiast, 
 before the company arrives ; in that effective 
 sketch, in a paragraph of the Philadelphia City 
 Croaker, whose ghost still walks every city in the 
 world, mocking prosperity of every degree,- — " a 
 person of note, an elderly man, with a wis'e look 
 and a very grave manner of speaking." The 
 Autobiography was written in several portions. 
 It was first commenced at Twyford, the country 
 residence of the good bishop of St. Asaph, in 
 1771, and addressed to his son the Governor of 
 New Jersey, and continued at intervals, till the 
 Revolutionary War occupied the writer's time 
 exclusively. It was again, at the solicitation of 
 his friends James and Vaughan, resumed at 
 Passy, in 1784, and afterwards continued in Ame- 
 rica. The history of the several editions of this 
 work is curious. It was first, as was the case 
 with Jefferson's " Notes on Virginia," published 
 in French, translated from the author's manu- 
 script. This version was re-translated into Eng- 
 lish, and published-for the first time in that lan- 
 guage, in London, in 1793. Oddly enough, in ano- 
 ther French edition, which appeared in Paris, in 
 1798, the autobiography was again translated into 
 French, from the English version of the foreign 
 language. The work, as Franklin wrote it, in his 
 native tongue, was first given lo the world in the 
 collection of his writings, by his grandson, William 
 Temple Franklin, in 1817. The translation from 
 the French is still in circulation in this country, 
 notwithstanding the publication of Franklin's 
 original; though the authoritative edition of 
 Sparks has of late set an example which will 
 drive all other copies than the genuine one from 
 the market.* 
 
 * To the old American editions a continuation was added by 
 Dr. Henry Stuber. He was of German parentage, born in Phi- 
 ladelphia, about 1770. He was a pupil of Dr. Kunze, in Greek, 
 Latin, and German, when that divine, afterwards established in 
 New York, was connected with the University of Pennsylva- 
 nia. He studied medicine, which his health hardly allowed 
 bim to practise. Obtaining a situation in one of tile public 
 offices of the United States government, he was engaged in the 
 study of the law, when he died early in life. He wrote for the 
 journals of the day ; bot the only publication bv which he will 
 ba remembered, is bis continuation of the Life of Franklin. 
 
 The Autobiography, continued from time to 
 time — the latter portions of it were written as 
 late as the year 1788 — concludes with Franklin's 
 arrival in England as agent of the Assembly, 
 against the Proprietaries in 1757. The thirty- 
 three years of his life then unexpired were to bo 
 filled with momentous interests ; his participation 
 in which as the manager and negotiator of the 
 infant state throws into the shade the literature, 
 which continued, however, to employ him to the 
 end. It was during his last sojourn at Paris, 
 
 amidst the cares of state, that he composed those 
 literary essays of such general fame — the Ephe- 
 mera, Petition of the Cats, the Whistle, and the 
 Dialogue with the Gout, written for the amuse- 
 ment of the brilliant friends, including Madame 
 Helvetius and Madame Brillon, who enlivened his 
 age and cares at Passy and Auteuil. 
 
 While Franklin was a printer in London, ho gave 
 vent to 1 lis philosophical views by printing a pamph- 
 let entitled A Dissertation on Liberty and Neces- 
 sity, Pleasure and Pain, in a Letter to a Friend. 
 This was in 1725. Though he expresses a dislike 
 of the publication, he recurs to it with some 
 paternal affection both in the Autobiography and 
 in his Correspondence. The essay belonged to 
 the school of Mandeville in obliterating the 
 distinctions between virtue and vice, and readily 
 introduced the young printer, who was not nine- 
 teen years of age at that time, to that arch-skeptic, 
 the author of " The Fable of the Bee?," who held 
 an entertaining club in Cheapside. The pamphlet 
 was started in the busy brain of the compositor 
 by his setting up Wollaston's " Religion of 
 
 Beyond this, the memory of the man had almost perished, 
 when the foregoing particulars were with difficulty collected 
 by Dr. John W. Francis, of this city, who communicated them 
 to Mr. Sparks, bv whom they were published in the tenth 
 volume of Die Li'fo and Writings of Franklin. 
 
108 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Nature," to which it was intended as a reply. 
 Its argument was a sublimated optimism arguing 
 everything in the world to be right from the 
 attributes of the Deity of wisdom, goodness, and 
 power. The motto was from Dryden : 
 
 "Whatever is, is right. But purblind man 
 Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest links ; 
 His eyes not earryii g to that equal beam, 
 That poises all above. 
 
 One hundred copies only of the work were print- 
 ed ; a few were given to friends ; the author became 
 dissatisfied with the production, and burnt the 
 remainder, excepting a copy filled with manuscript 
 notes, by his acquaintance at the time, a surgeon 
 named Lyons, who wrote on the " Infallibility of 
 Human Judgment." This tract has not been 
 printed in any edition of Franklin's works. 
 "When Mr. Sparks published his edition in 1840, 
 it. was thought to be entirely lost. That editor 
 expressed his belief that " no copy of this tract is 
 now known to be in existence." Sir James Mack- 
 intosh searched for it in vain. Since that time a 
 copy has been found in England. James Cross- 
 ley communicates the fact to the antiquarian pub- 
 lication, Notes and Queries.* It is a pamphlet of 
 sixteen closely printed octavo pages. It is ad- 
 dressed to Mr. J (ames) R (alph), and commences 
 with the comprehensive declaration : " I have 
 here, according to your request, given you my 
 present thoughts on the general state of things in 
 the universe ;" and concludes with the undeniable 
 assertion, " Truth will be truth, though it some- 
 times proves mortifying and distasteful." 
 
 Poor Richard's Almanac was commenced by 
 Franklin in 1733, and continued for twenty-six 
 years, to 1758. It was put forward as the pro- 
 duction of Richard Saunders, Philomath, print- 
 ed and sold by B. Franklin. Its quaint humor 
 and homespun moralities made its successive 
 issues great favorites with the people, who to their 
 credit have always shown an avidity for popular 
 publications of humor and sagacity, from Cotton 
 Mather's grim moralities down to the felicitous 
 Mrs. Partington, who gets the smallest modicum 
 of wisdom out of the greatest amount of nonsense. 
 About ten thousand copies were sold of it annu- 
 ally, a great number for the times. As in the 
 case of most very popular works, the early edi- 
 tions were literally consumed by its ardent ad- 
 mirers. One of the old copies is now considered 
 a great rarity ; and a complete set was found by 
 Mr. Sparks to be unattainable.f 
 
 Its greatest popularity was achieved when a 
 number of Poor Richard's aphorisms were col- 
 lected and prefixed as an harangue to the people, 
 The Way to Wealth, to the almanac for 1758. 
 In this concentrated form Poor Richard passed 
 
 * No. 114, Jan. 8. 1552. 
 
 t Most of the numbers were, however, got together after 
 marly four years' research among public libraries and private 
 collections, by John Doggett, Jr., who, in 1S49, commenced the 
 republication of the Poor Richard matterin annual instalments 
 of three years to each number, appended to new astronomical 
 calculations for the current year. He proceeded with this 
 work through three numbers, when it was interrupted by Jiis 
 death. At the sale of his effects, eighteen numbers of Poor 
 Eichard were purchased at twelve dollars each. John Don- 
 gett was from Dorchester, Mass. He dealt in New York in a 
 virtnoso collection of paintings, engravings, autographs &c. 
 He commenced a New York Directory in 1842, and continued 
 it till his death in the city, in 1862. 
 
 into general circulation as a popular tract in news- 
 papers and broadsheets. Franklin himself attri- 
 butes the growing plenty of money in Philadel- 
 phia after its appearance, to the practice of its 
 economical precepts. Three translations have 
 been made of it in French, where it passes as La 
 Science du Bonhomme Richard. It was printed in 
 modern Greek at Didot's press in Paris in 1823. 
 
 Poor Richard's matter consists of Mr. Saunders's 
 facetious annual introductions ; a bit of homely 
 poetry for the month ; with the interspaces of the 
 Calendar, left after the important weather pro- 
 phecies sprinkled down the page, filled with sen- 
 tentious maxims. Some of these are coarse and 
 homely for the digestion of ploughmen ; others 
 show the nicer edge of Franklin's wit and expe- 
 rience. Rhyme lends its aid to reason ; and prac- 
 tical morality has work to do which renders her 
 not very dainty in the use of words. Temperance 
 and independence have sturdy advocates in Poor 
 Richard. "It is hard," says he, "for an empty 
 sack to stand upright." " Drink water, put the 
 money in your pocket, and leave the dry belly- 
 ache in the punchbowl." " If you would be 
 reveng'd of your enemj-, govern yourself." 
 
 " If you ride a horse sit close and tight, 
 If you ride a man, sit easy and light." 
 
 " If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are 
 dead and rotten, either write things worth read- 
 ing, or do things worth the writing." " Fish and 
 visiters smell in three days." "As we must ac- 
 count for every idle word, so we must for every 
 idle silence." The poetry is in a few more lines 
 than the maxims, generally with a home thrust at 
 vanity or vice. 
 
 That all from Adam first begun, 
 
 Since none but Winston doubts, 
 And that his son, and his son's son 
 
 Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts; 
 Here lies the only difference now, 
 
 Some shot off late, some soon ; 
 Your sires i' th' morning left the plough 
 
 And ours i' th' afternoon. 
 
 And sometimes a little playful elegance : 
 
 My love and I for kisses play'd, 
 
 She would keep stakes, I was content, 
 But when I won, she would be paid, 
 This made me ask her what she meant : 
 
 Quoth she, since you are in this wrangling vein, 
 Here, take your kisses, give me mine again. 
 
 When Paul Jones, in Paris, in 1778, was 
 making application to the French Government 
 for a military vessel to pursue his career at sea, 
 wearied out with the delay of the officials, and 
 the neglect of his letters from the sea-ports, he 
 happened to take up an old number of Franklin's 
 Almanac, and alighted on this sentence of Poor 
 Richard, " If you would have your business done, 
 go ; if not, send." He took the advice, proceeded 
 himself to the capital, and pushed his application 
 so successfully, that in gratitude to the oracle he 
 obtained permission to call the ship granted to 
 him the Bon Homme Richard* Its fortunes 
 soon made the French translation of the name as 
 familiar to American ears as the original Poor 
 Richard. 
 
 * Mackenzie's Life of Paal Jones, i. 134. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 109 
 
 Franklin's voluminous correspondence would 
 alone have given him high literary reputation as 
 a letter writer. His essential philanthropy, good 
 humor, wit, and ready resources, are every- 
 where apparent in this. It is the best part of his 
 conversation, vital for posterity, and we may 
 readily imagine from it how Franklin talked, as 
 with his fine tact he always offers something in- 
 spiring, useful, and entertaining to his friends, 
 lint it is to the perspicuity, method, and ease of 
 Franklin's philosophical writings that his solid 
 reputation will remain greatly indebted. These 
 qualities cannot be better described than in the 
 words of Sir Humphrey Davy, the generous en- 
 comiast of his scientific brethren, who himself 
 practised every grace which he attributed to 
 others : — " A singular felicity of induction guided 
 all his researches, and by very small means he 
 established very grand truths. The style and 
 manner of his publication on electricity, are al- 
 most as worthy of admiration as the doctrine it 
 contains. He has endeavoured to remove all 
 mystery and obscurity from the subject. He has 
 written equally for the uninitiated and for the phi- 
 losopher; and he has rendered his details amusing 
 and perspicuous, elegant as well as simple. Sci- 
 ence appears in his language, in a dress wonder- 
 fully decorous, best adapted to display her native 
 loveliness. He has in no instance exhibited that 
 false dignity, by which philosophy is kept aloof 
 from common applications; and he has sought 
 rather to make her a useful inmate and servant 
 in the common habitations of man, than to pre- 
 serve her merely as an object of admiration in 
 temples and palaces.''* 
 
 The uniform industry of Franklin was im- 
 mense ; and though writing was but an incidental 
 pursuit to one who was not an author by pro- 
 fession, and derived no revenue from his pen, the 
 aggregate of his distinct literary compositions out- 
 distances the labors of many who have worked 
 directly for reputation and the booksellers. As 
 enumerated by Mr. Sparks.f the list of his writ- 
 ings, separate books, articles, or distinct papers, 
 independently of his iiuge correspondence, amounts 
 to three hundred and four items, thickly sown 
 along his busy years — and he was alway.s busy 
 — from 1726 to 1790. They exhaust every 
 method of doing good practically, which fell 
 within the range of his powers or experience. 
 They are upon topics of individual and social im- 
 provement, of the useful arts, which adorn and 
 ameliorate daily life, of the science which en- 
 larges the powers of the mind and increases the 
 comfort of the body, of political wisdom, extend- 
 ing from the direction of a village to the control 
 and prosperity of the state. In every form of 
 purely human endeavor, the genius of Franklin 
 is paramount. There were principles in philoso- 
 phy anil religion beyond his ken, fields of specu- 
 lation which his telescope never traversed, metu- 
 physic spaces of the soul to the electric powers 
 of which his lightning rods were no conductors. 
 In the parcel allotment of duties in this world, 
 his path lay in the region of the practical. In 
 the words of our great sire to the archangel, he 
 might have professed that 
 
 * Quoted in Sparks' s Life. 467. 
 t Works of Franklin, x. 449. 
 
 To know that which before us lies in daily life 
 Is the prime wisdom. 
 
 There he was seldom at fault; cool, wary, 
 political, never betraying himself, never betraying 
 the state : in the language of his American histo- 
 rian, a writer himself skilled in affairs : " Franklin 
 was the greatest diplomatist of the eighteenth 
 century. He never spoke a word too soon ; he 
 never spoke a word too late ; he never spoke a 
 word too much ; he never failed to speak the 
 right word at the right season."* 
 
 We have alluded to Franklin's philosophy as 
 indicative of the religious powers. Here it may 
 be said that he rather lived by them than in 
 them. He appreciated the devout and transcen- 
 dent labors of such men as Jonathan Edwards, in 
 laying the foundations, and could empty his 
 pockets at the heart-stirring appeals of White- 
 field. His friendships, in England and America, 
 were with bishops and divines. The Bishop of 
 St. Asaph, of Sodor and Man, no less than the 
 Methodist Whitefield, were his friends ; and he 
 could cast an eye backwards with affection and 
 reverence, from the glittering salons of Paris, to 
 the dark shades of Puritan ancestors. There was 
 a sound, vein of piety in his composition, which 
 bore its' fruits ; nor had French levity, or com- 
 panionship with the encyclopaedists, blunted his 
 religious education. His warning hand, raised to 
 Paine on the eve of his infidel publication, 
 deserves to be remembered, with his appeal to the 
 obligations of that arch-corrupter himself to reli- 
 gion : " Perhaps you are indebted to her originally, 
 that is to your religious education, for the habits 
 of virtue upon which you now justly value your- 
 self. You might easily display your excellent 
 talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous sub- 
 ject, and thereby obtain a rank with our most 
 distinguished authors: for among us it is not 
 necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth, 
 to be raised into the company of men, should 
 prove his manhood by beating his mother. "t In 
 the same letter, he asserts his belief of a particu- 
 lar Providence, which he once so emphatically 
 announced in the Convention of 17874 At the 
 close of his life, President Stiles, of Yale, drew§ 
 from him an expression of his religious opinions, 
 in which he simply announces his belief in the 
 unity and moral government of the Deity, and 
 the paramount " system of morals and religion " 
 of " Jesus of Nazareth," as " the best the world 
 ever saw, or is likely to see ;" but his interpreta- 
 tion of what the latter was, would probably have 
 differed much from that of Dr. Stiles.] 
 
 * Bancroft. N. T. Hist. Soc. Lecture, Dec. 9, 1S52. 
 
 t Letter. Sparks, x. 2S1. 
 
 X " I have lived," said he, in introducing his motion for daily 
 prayers, "a long time; and the longer i live, the more con- 
 vincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the 
 affairs of men. And, if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground 
 without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise with- 
 out his aid?" — Sparks's Life, 514. 
 
 § Letter of Franklin, March 9, 1790. Holmes's Life of Stiles, 
 809. 
 
 1 A single letter in the autobiography betrays Franklin's 
 mode of thinking and feeling in reference to the Scriptures. 
 He is speaking of a poetic contest between Ralph and some 
 others of his companions, and says, of the test proposed: " Wo 
 excluded all considerations of invention, by agreeing that the 
 task should bo a review of the eighteenth Psalm, which 
 describes the descent of a Deity." To no habitually reverent 
 mind could the use of the indefinite article occur on mention 
 of that sublime composition. Of his early infidel opinions, ho 
 
no 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 One of his very last acts, on his death-hed, was 
 to recite to his faithful attendant, Mrs. Hewson, 
 the daughter of his London landlady, the simple 
 and elevated verses of good Doctor Watts.* 
 
 The compliments to Franklin, the sage, philoso- 
 pher, politician, would fill a volume. Perhaps 
 the Latin epigraph, written by the philosopher 
 Turgot, has been the most productive ever paid : 
 
 Eripuit ecelo fulmen Eceptrurnque tyrarmis.+ 
 
 His portrait is frequently graced with similar 
 inscriptions, of which the best is that from Horace, 
 placed by Bishop Shipley in the edition of the 
 Miscellanies of 1779, Non sordidus auctor Na- 
 tures Yerique.% 
 
 . He was equally admired by peasants and 
 kings; Louis XV., "the grand monarch," com- 
 manded a return of his thanks to Mr. Franklin 
 "for his useful discoveries in electricity ;"§ the 
 court of Louis XVI., its philosophers, wits, and 
 ladies of fashion, hailed him with enthusiasm; 
 Chatham was his eulogist in England, and Wash- 
 ington in America; he had the best men in both 
 hemispheres for his friends and correspondents; 
 towns and counties, and even a state, have been 
 named after him;| his portrait and bust are 
 familiar as those of Washington ; "Every penny 
 stamp," says Robert 0. Winthrop, happily, in his 
 address, Archimedes and Franldin, "is a monu- 
 ment to Franklin, earned, if not established by 
 himself, as the fruit of his early labors and his 
 signal success in the organization of our infant 
 post-office." His writings are read with equal 
 zest, though with different emotions, in childhood 
 and age — as the old man goes out of the world 
 
 Bays, that they were encouraged by the statements of the 
 defenders of Christianity, the Boyle lecturers; but in such 
 cases, it is less the argument than the predisposition which 
 fails to convince. 
 
 * Epes Sargent's Memoir of Franklin, 110 ; prefixed to a well 
 chosen selection of the writings, agreeably presented. 
 
 + This inscription by Turgot, which has been ascribed to 
 Condorcet and Mirabeau, first appears in the correspondence 
 of Grimm and Diderot, April, 1778, and has been traced to a 
 line of the Anti-Lucretius of Cardinal de Polignac, lib. i., 
 verse 37, which reads: 
 
 Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, Phceboque sagittas: 
 And thence to Manilins, lib. 1, verse 104, where he says of 
 Epicurus, 
 
 Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, viresque Tonanti. 
 
 Notes and Queries, vi. 88. 
 Taking the laurel from the brow of Epicurus to place it 
 upon the head of Franklin is not so inappropriate when we 
 recall the sketch of the former by Lucretius iUxastrans 
 commoda viiw. 
 t Ode I. 28. 
 There is another from Virgil, 
 
 Hominum rerumque repcrtor. 
 
 jEncid xii. 
 To the portrait from which our engraving is taken, a medal- 
 lion in the possession of Dr. Lettsom, published in his life of 
 Dr. Fothergill, are added these lines : 
 II a ravi le feu des Cieux 
 II fait fleurir les Arts en des Climats Sauvages, 
 
 L'Amerique le place a la tete des Sages 
 La Grece l'auroit mis au nombre dc ses Dieux. 
 There is a common French print of Diogenes with a lantern, 
 holding a medallion of Franklin, with the inscription, 
 Stupete gentes reperit virum Diogenes. 
 § Franklin's Letter to Jared Eliot, Philadelphia, April 12th, 
 1753. Sparks, vi. 162. 
 
 [ To the town of Franklin, Massachusetts, named after him, 
 he orders from Paris a gift of books, in preference to the bell 
 which they had solicited, "sense being preferable to sound.'' — 
 Letter to Richard Price, Passy, March 18, 1785. Sparks, x. 158. 
 The Rev. Nath. Emmons, clergyman of the town, preached a 
 sermon, "The Dignity of Man, : ' on the receipt of the gift. The 
 proposed new State of Franklin, afterwards called Tennessee, 
 was named after our philosopher. 
 
 repeating to the grandchild at the fireside the 
 apologue of quaint familiar wisdom which he had 
 learnt in his primer. 
 
 The genius of Franklin is omnipresent at Phila- 
 delphia. It points to his Library, his Philoso- 
 phical Society, his University, his Hospital, the 
 Institute. At Boston, his benevolence still lives 
 in the provisions of his will, his silver medal for 
 the encouragement of scholarship in the free 
 grammar schools, in gratitude for his own " first 
 instructions in literature," and in a fund to be 
 loaned to young mechanics. At one time it was 
 thought the influence of Poor Richard had pro- 
 duced a too general thrift and parsimony: but 
 these were not the vices of Franklin's instructions, 
 but the virtues of a young state building up its 
 fortunes by economy and endurance. Now these 
 maxims are simply the correctives of rapidly in- 
 creasing prodigality ; the mottoes and incentives 
 to honorable toil and frugality throughout the 
 land. For Franklin having been born in one 
 part of the country, and found that development 
 in another which would probably have been 
 denied him in his birth-place, and having been 
 employed abroad in the service of several states, 
 and afterwards in behalf of them all, is properly 
 the son of the Union and the nation, — and his 
 life, as his fame, belongs to his country. 
 
 For extracts from Franklin's writings, passing 
 over the scientific portions, as hardly admitting 
 of separation from the context, and leaving his 
 political papers for the historian, we may properly 
 give several of those essays which have chiefly 
 promoted his popular literary reputation. Of 
 these the Parable on Persecution has always been 
 considered one of his most characteristic efforts. 
 It was his habit to call for a Bible and read it as 
 a passage of the Old Testament, till it became 
 public property by its appearance in Lord Karnes's 
 Sketches of the History of Man, in 1774, where 
 it appears as "communicated by Benjamin Frank- 
 lin." Vaughan then placed it in his edition of 
 Franklin. The apologue was soon discovered in 
 Jeremy Taylor's Liberty of Prophesying, who 
 quotes it from "the Jews' books." It then 
 turned up in the dedication of a book published 
 at Amsterdam, in 1680, a translation from the 
 Hebrew into Latin, by. George Gentius, of a work 
 on the Jewish Calamities. Gentius carries it 
 back to Sadus, who, it appears, is Saadi, the Per- 
 sian poet, who, as Lord Teignmouth related to 
 Bishop Heber, has the story in the second book 
 of his Bostan; and carrying the antiquity still 
 further, Saadi says the story was told to him.* 
 
 A rAEABLE AGAIXST PEnSECCTION. 
 
 1. And it came to pass after these things, that 
 Abraham 6at in the door of his teat, about the going 
 down of the sun. 
 
 2. And behold a man, bowed with age, came from 
 the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff. 
 
 3. And Abraham arose and met him, and said unto 
 him, " Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and 
 tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early on the 
 morrow, and go on thy way." 
 
 * Letter from Franklin to Taughan. Nov. 2, 17S9. Appen- 
 dix to Priestley's Memoirs, where the Latin of Gentius is given, 
 376. Heber's Life of Jeremy Taylor, notes. Sparks' s Franklin, 
 ii. 11S-21. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 4. But the man said, " Nay, for I will abide under 
 this tree." 
 
 5. And Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he 
 turned, and they went into the tent, and Abraham 
 baked unleavened bread, and they did eat. 
 
 6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed 
 not God, he said unto him, " Wherefore dost thou 
 not worship the most high God, Creator of heaven 
 and earth ?" 
 
 7. And the man answered and said, " I do not 
 worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I call 
 upon his name ; for I have made to myself a god, 
 which abideth alway in mine house, and provideth 
 me with all things." 
 
 8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the 
 man, and he arose and fell upon him, and drove him 
 forth with blows into the wilderness. 
 
 9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham, 
 saying, " Abraham, where is the stranger ?" 
 
 10. And Abraham answered and said, " Lord, he 
 would not worship thee, neither would he call upon 
 thy name; therefore have I driven him out from 
 before my face into the wilderness." 
 
 11. And God said, " Have I borne with him these 
 hundred ninety and eight years, and nourished him, 
 and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion 
 against me ; and couldst not thou, that art thyself a 
 sinner, bear with him one night?" 
 
 12. And Abraham said, " Let not the anger of the 
 Lord wax hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned; 
 lo, I have sinned ; forgive me, I pray thee." 
 
 13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the 
 wilderness, and sought diligently for the man, and 
 found him, and returned with him to the tent ; and 
 when he had entreated him kindly, he sent him 
 away on the morrow with gifts. 
 
 14. And God spake again unto Abraham, saying, 
 " For this thy sin shall thy seed be afflicted four 
 hundred years in a strange land ; 
 
 15. " But fur thy repentance will I deliver them ; 
 and they shall come forth with power, and with 
 gladness of heart, and with much substance." 
 
 the ephemera; 
 an emblem of human life. 
 To Madame Brillon, of Passy. 
 Written in 1778. 
 You may remember, my dear friend, that when 
 we lately spent that happy day in the delightful 
 garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I 
 stopped a little in pne of our walks, and stayed some 
 time behind the company. We had been shown 
 numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an 
 ephemera, whose successive generations, we were 
 told, were bred and expired within the day. I 
 happened to see a living company of them on a 
 leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. 
 You know I understand all the inferior animal 
 tongues. My too great application to the study of 
 them is the best excuse I can give for the little pro- 
 gress I have made in your charming language. I 
 listened through curiosity to the discourse of~these 
 little creatures ; but as they, in their national 
 vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make 
 but little of their conversation. I found, however, 
 by some broken expressions that I heard now and 
 then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of 
 two foreign musicians, one a cousin, the other a 
 moscheto ; in which dispute they spent their time, 
 seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as if 
 they had been sure of living a month. Happy 
 people ! thought I ; you are certainly under a wise, 
 just, and mild government, since you have no public 
 
 grievances to complain of, nor any subject of conten- 
 tion but the perfections and imperfections of foreign 
 music. I turned my head from them to an old grey- 
 headed one, who was single on another leaf, and 
 talkitur to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, 
 I put it dow i in writing, in hopes it will likewise 
 amuse her to whom I am so much indebted for the 
 most pleasing 'of all amusements, her delicious com- 
 pany and heavenly harmony. 
 
 " It was," said he, " the opinion of learned philoso- 
 phers of our race, who lived and flourished long 
 before my time, that this vast world, the Moulin Joly, 
 could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours ; 
 and I think there was some foundation for that 
 opinion, since, by the apparent motion of the great 
 luminary that gives life to all nature, and which in 
 my time has evidently declined considerably towards 
 the ocean at the end of our earth, it must then finish 
 its course, be extinguished in the waters that sur- 
 round us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, 
 necessarily producing universal death and destruc- 
 tion. I have lived seven of those hours, a great age, 
 being no less than four hundred and twenty minutes 
 of time. How very few of us continue so long ! I 
 have seen generations born, flourish, and expire. 
 My present friends are the children and grandchil- 
 dren of the friends of my youth, who arc now, alas, 
 no more ! And I must soon follow them ; for, by the 
 course of nature, though still in health, I cannot 
 expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer. 
 What now avails all my toil and labor, in amassing 
 honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to 
 enjoy! What the political struggles I have been 
 engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabit- 
 ants of this bush, or my philosophical studies for 
 the benefit of our race in general ! for, in politics, 
 what can laws do without morals? Our present 
 race of ephemera will in a course of minutes become 
 corrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and 
 consequently as wretched. And in philosophy how 
 small our progress! Alas! art is long, and life is 
 short! My friends would comfort me with the idea 
 of a name, they say. I shall leave behind me ; and 
 they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and 
 to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera 
 who no longer exists? And what will become of 
 all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world 
 itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall come to its 
 end, and be buried in universal ruin?" 
 
 To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid plea- 
 sures now remain, but the reflection of a long life 
 spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of 
 a few good lady ephemerae, and now and then a 
 kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Bril- 
 lante. 
 
 THE WHISTLE. 
 
 To Madame BMlon, 
 
 Passy, 10 November, 1779. 
 
 I received my dear friend's two letters, one for 
 Wednesday and one for Saturday. This is again 
 Wednesday. I do not deserve one for to-day, be- 
 cause I have not answered the former. But, indo- 
 lent as I am, and averse to writing, the fear of 
 having no more of your pleasing epistles, if 1 do not 
 contribute to the correspondence, obliges me to take 
 up my pen ; and as Mr. B. has kindly sent me word, 
 that he sets out to-morrow to see you, instead of 
 spending this Wednesday evening as I have done its 
 namesakes, in your delightful company, I sit down 
 to spend it in thinking of you, in writing to you, and 
 in reading over and over again your letters. 
 
 I am charmed with j'our description of Paradise, 
 and with your plan of living there; and I approve 
 much of your conclusion, that, in the mean time, we 
 
112 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 should draw all the good we can from this world. 
 In my opinion, we might all draw more good from 
 it than we do, and suffer less evil, if we would take 
 care not to give too much for whistles. For to me it 
 seems, that most of the unhappy people we meet 
 with, are become so by neglect of that caution. 
 
 You ask what I mean ? You love stories, and will 
 excuse my telling one of myself. 
 
 When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, 
 on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I 
 went directly to a shop where they sold toys for 
 children ; and, being charmed with the sound of a 
 whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of 
 another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my 
 money for one. I then came home, and went 
 whistling all over the house, much pleased with my 
 whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, 
 and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain 
 I had made, told me I had given fjur times as much 
 for it as it was worth ; put me in mind what good 
 things I might have bought with the rest of the 
 money ; and laughed at me so much for my folly, 
 that I eried with vexation; and the reflection gave 
 we more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. 
 
 This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the 
 impression continuing on my mind ; so that often, 
 when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, 
 1 said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle; 
 and I saved my money. 
 
 As I grew up, came into the world, and observed 
 the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very 
 many, who gave too much for the whistle. 
 
 When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, 
 sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his 
 repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, 
 to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too 
 much for his whistle. 
 
 When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly 
 employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his 
 own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He 
 pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle. 
 
 If 1 knew a miser, who gave up every kind of 
 comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to 
 others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the 
 joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accu- 
 mulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much 
 for your whistle. 
 
 When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing 
 every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his 
 fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his 
 health in their pursuit, Mistaken man, said I, you are 
 providing pain for yourself , instead of pleasure ; you 
 give too much for your whistle. 
 
 If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, 
 fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above 
 his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends 
 his career in a prison, Alas! say I, he has paid dear, 
 very dear, for his whistle. 
 
 When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl mar- 
 ried to an ill-natured brute of a husband, What 
 a pity, say I, that she should pay so much for her 
 whistle ! 
 
 In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries 
 of mankind are brought upon them by the false esti- 
 mates they have made of the value of things, and by 
 their giving too much for their whistles. 
 
 Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy 
 people, when I consider, that, with all this wisdom of 
 which I am boasting, there are certain things in the 
 world so tempting, for example, the apples of King 
 John, which happily are not to be bought ; for if 
 they were put to sale by auction, I might very 
 easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and 
 find that I had once more given too much for the 
 whistle. 
 
 Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours 
 very sincerely and with unalterable affection, 
 
 B. Franklin. 
 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 
 
 Midnight, 22 October, 1780. 
 
 Franklin. Eh! Oh I Eh! What have I done to 
 merit these cruel sufferings? 
 
 Gout. Many things ; you have ate and drank too 
 freely, and too much indulged those legs of yours in 
 their indolence. 
 
 Franklin. Who is it that accuses me ? 
 
 Gout. It is I, even I, the Gout. 
 
 Franklin. What! my enemy in person ? 
 
 Gout. No, not your enemy. 
 
 Franklin. I repeat it ; my enemy ; for you would 
 not only torment my body to death, but ruin my 
 good name ; you reproach me as a glutton and a 
 tippler ; now all the world, that knows me, will allow 
 that I am neither the one nor the other. 
 
 Gout. The world may think as it pleases; it is 
 always very complaisant to itself, and sometimes to 
 its friends ; but I very well know that the quantity 
 of meat and drink proper for a man, who takes a 
 reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for 
 another, who never takes any. 
 
 Franklin. I take — Eh! Oh! — as much exercise — 
 Eh ! — as I can, Madam Gout. You know my seden- 
 tary state, and on that account, it would seem, 
 Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing 
 it is not altogether my own fault. 
 
 Gout. Not a jot ; your rhetoric and your polite- 
 ness are thrown away; your apology avails nothing. 
 If your situation in life is a sedentary one, your 
 amusements, your recreations, at least, should be 
 active. You ought to walk or ride ; or, if the 
 weather prevents that, play at billiards. But let us 
 examine your course of life. While the mornings 
 are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do 
 you do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for 
 breakfast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself 
 with books, pamphlets, or newspapers, which com- 
 monly are not worth the reading. Yet you eat an 
 inordinate breakfast, four dishes of tea, with cream, 
 and one or two buttered toasts, with slices of hung 
 beef, which I fancy are not things the most easily 
 digested. Immediately afterward \'ou sit down to 
 ■write at your desk, or converse with persons who 
 apply to you on business. Thus the time passes till 
 one, without any kind of bodily exercise. But all 
 this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your 
 sedentary condition. But what is your practice 
 after dinner? Walking in the beautiful gardens of 
 those friends, with whom you have dined, would be 
 the choice of men of sense ; yours is to be fixed down 
 to chess, where you are found engaged for two or 
 three hours! This is your perpetual recreation, 
 which is the least eligible of any for a sedentary man, 
 because, instead of accelerating the motion of the 
 fluids, tlie rigid attention it requires helps to retard 
 the circulation and obstruct internal secretions. 
 Wrapt in the speculation's of this wretched game, 
 you destroy j'our constitution. What can be ex- 
 pected from such a course of living, but a body 
 replete with stagnant humors, ready to fall a prey 
 to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the Gout, did 
 not occasionally bring you relief by agitating these 
 humors, and so purifying or dissipating them ? If it 
 was in some nook or alle}^ in Paris, deprived of 
 walks, that you played awhile at chess after dinner, 
 this might be excusable ; but the same taste prevails 
 with you in Passy, Auteuil, Menmartre, or Sauoy, 
 places where there are the finest gardens and walks, 
 a pure air, beautiful women, and most agreeable and 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 113 
 
 instructive conversation; all -which you might enjoy- 
 by frequenting the walks. But these are rejected 
 for this abominable game of chess. Fie, then, Mr. 
 Franklin! But amidst my instructions, I had almost 
 forgot to administer my wholesome corrections ; so 
 take that twinge, — and that. 
 
 Franklin. Oh! Ehl Oh I Ohhh! As much in- 
 struction as you please, Madam Gout, and as many 
 reproaches ; but pray, Madam, a truce with your 
 corrections ! 
 
 Gout. No, Sir, no, — I will not abate a particle of 
 what is so much for your good, — therefore — ■ 
 
 Feanklin. Oh ! Ehhh ! — It is not fair to say I take 
 no exercise, when I do very often, going out to dine 
 and returning in my carriage. 
 
 Gout. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most 
 slight and insignificant, it' you allude to the motion 
 of a carriage suspended on springs. By observing 
 the degree of heat obtained by different kinds of 
 motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of 
 exercise given by each. Thus, for example, if you 
 turn out to walk in winter with cold feet, in an 
 hour's time you will be in a glow all over ; ride on 
 horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived 
 by four hours' round trotting; but if you loll in a 
 carriage, such as you have mentioned, you may 
 travel all day, and gladly enter the last inn to warm 
 your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then no longer, 
 that half an hour's airing in your carriage deserves 
 the name of exercise. Providence has appointed few 
 to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair 
 of legs, whicli are machines infinitely more commo- 
 dious and serviceable. Be grateful then, and make 
 a proper use of yours. Would you know how they 
 forward the circulation of your fluids, in the very 
 action of transporting you from place to place ; ob- 
 serve when you walk, that all your weight is alter- 
 nately thrown from one leg to the other; this 
 occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot, 
 and repels their contents; when relieved, by the 
 weight being thrown on the other foot, the vessels 
 of the first are allowed to replenish, and, by a return 
 of this weight, this repulsion again succeeds; thus 
 accelerating the circulation of the blood. The heat 
 produced in any given time, depends on the degree 
 of this acceleration ; the fluids are shaken, the 
 humors attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all 
 goes well ; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is 
 established. Behold your fair friend at Auteuil; 
 a lady who received from bounteous nature more 
 really useful science, than half a dozen such pre- 
 tenders to philosophy as you have been able to 
 extract from all your books. When she honors you 
 with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all hours of 
 the day, and leaves indolence, and its concomitant 
 maladies, to be endured by her horses. In this see 
 at once the preservative of her health and personal 
 charms. But when you go to Auteuil, you must 
 have your carriage, though it is no further from 
 Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy. 
 
 Franklin. Your reasonings grow very tiresome. 
 
 Gout. I stand corrected. I will be silent and con- 
 tinue my office ; take that, and that. 
 
 Franklin. Oh ! Ohh! Talk on, I pray yon! 
 
 Gout. No, no ; I have a good number of twinges 
 for you to-night, and you may be sure of some more 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Franklin. What ! with such a fever ! I shall 
 go distracted. Oh ! Eh ! Can no one bear it for 
 me? 
 
 Gout. Ask that of your horses ; they have served 
 you faithfully. 
 
 Franklin. How can you so cruelly sport with my 
 torments? 
 
 Gout. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a 
 
 -?OL. I. — 8 
 
 list of offences against your own health distinctly 
 written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on 
 you. 
 
 Franklin. Read it, then. 
 
 Gout. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly 
 mention some particulars. 
 
 Franklin. Proceed. I am all attention. 
 
 Gout. Do you remember how often you have pro- 
 mised yourself, the following morning, a walk in tho 
 grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or iu 
 your own garden, and have violated your promise, 
 alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too 
 warm, too windy, too moist, or what else you 
 pleased ; when in truth it was too nothing, but your 
 insuperable love of ease ? ^ 
 
 Franklin. That I confess may have happened 
 occasionally, probably ten times in a year. 
 
 Gout. Your confession is very far short of the 
 truth ; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety- 
 nine times. 
 
 Franklin. Is it possible ? 
 
 Gout. So possible, that it is fact ; you may rely on 
 the accuracy of my statement. You know Mr. 
 Brillon's gardens, and what fine walks they contain; 
 you know the handsome flight of an hundred steps, 
 which lead from the terrace above to the lawn 
 below. You have been in the practice of visiting 
 this amiable family twice a week, after dinner, and 
 it is a maxim of your own, that " a man may take 
 as much exercise iu walking a mile, up and down 
 stairs, as in ten on level ground." What an oppor- 
 tunity was here for you to have had exercise in 
 both these ways! Did you embrace it, and how 
 often? 
 
 Franklin. I cannot immediately answer that 
 question. 
 
 Gout. I will do it for you ; not once. 
 
 Franklin. Not once? 
 
 Gout. Even so. During the summer you went 
 there at six o'clock. You found the charming lady, 
 with her lovely children and friends, eager to walk 
 with you, and entertain you with their agreeable 
 conversation ; and what has been your choice ? 
 Why, to sit on the terrace, satisfying yourself with 
 the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the 
 beauties of the garden below, without taking one 
 step to descend and walk about in them. On the 
 contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board ; and 
 lo ! you are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock, 
 and that besides two hours' play after dinner; and 
 then, instead of walking home, which would have 
 bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage; 
 How absurd to suppose that all this carelessness 
 can be reconcilable with health, without my inter- 
 position ! 
 
 Franklin. I am convinced now of the justness of 
 poor Richard's remark, that " Our debts and our 
 sins are always greater than we think for." 
 
 Gout. So it is. You philosophers are sages in 
 your maxims, and fools in your conduct. 
 
 Franklin. But do you charge among my crimes, 
 that I return in a carriage from Mr. Brillon's? 
 
 Gout. Certainly ; for, having been seated all the 
 while, you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and 
 cannot want therefore the relief of a carriage. 
 
 Franklin. What then would you have me do with 
 my carriage? 
 
 Gout. Burn it if you choose; you would at least 
 get heat out of it once in this way; or, if you dis- 
 like that proposal, here's another for you ; observe 
 the poor peasants, who work iu the vineyards and 
 grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil, Chail- 
 lot, (fcc. ; you may find every day, among these de- 
 serving creatures, four or five old men and women, 
 bent and perhaps crippled by weight of years, and 
 
114 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 too long and too great labor. After a most fatiguing 
 day, these people have to trudge a mile or two' to 
 their smoky huts. Order your coachman to set them 
 down. This is an act that will be good for your 
 soul; and, at the same time, after your visit to the 
 Brillons, if you return on foot, that will be good for 
 your body. 
 
 Franklin. Ah ! how tiresome you are I 
 
 Gout. Well, then, to my office; it should not be 
 forgotten that I am your physician. There. 
 
 Franklin. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician! 
 
 Gout. How ungrateful you are to say so ! Is it 
 not I who, in the character of your physician, have 
 saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy ! 
 one or <^her of which would have done for you long 
 ago, but fosEme. 
 
 Franklin. I submit, and thank you for the past, 
 but entreat the discontinuance of your visits for the 
 future; for, in my mind, one had better die than be 
 cured so dolefully. Permit me just to hint, that I 
 have also not been unfriendly to you. I never feed 
 physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list 
 against you ; if then you do not leave me to my 
 repose, it may be said you are ungrateful too. 
 
 Gout. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any 
 objection. As to quacks, I despise them; they may 
 kill you indeed, but cannot injure me. And, as to 
 regular ph\'8icians, they are at last convinced, that 
 the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease, 
 but a remedy ; and wherefore cure a remedy ? — but 
 to our business, — there. 
 
 Franklin. Oh ! Oh ! — for Heaven's sake leave 
 me; and I promise faithfully never more to play at 
 chess, but to take exercise daily, and live temper- 
 ately. 
 
 Gout. I know you too well. You promise fair ; 
 but, after a few months of good health, you will 
 return to your old habits; your fine promises will 
 be forgotten like the forms of the last year's clouds. 
 Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But 
 I leave you with an assurance of visiting you again 
 at a proper time and place ; for my object is your 
 good, and you are sensible now that I am your real 
 friend. 
 
 Franklin would hardly have made his title 
 good in the old literature of New England, if he 
 had not written verses of some kind. The lines 
 entitled " Paper" have been so often printed as 
 his, and are so appropriate to his tastes, that we 
 may give them a place here, though evidence is 
 wanting that he wrote them. In the Massachu- 
 setts Magazine for August, 1794, it is given a3 
 " written by the late Dr. Franklin," but in the 
 American Museum of 1788, it is only " ascribed" 
 to his pen. Mr. Sparks doubts the authorship, 
 but prints the lines.* 
 
 paper; a poem. 
 Some wit of old, — such wits of old there were, — 
 Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care, 
 By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, 
 Called clear blank paper every infant mind ; 
 Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, 
 Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot 
 
 The thought was happy, pertinent, and true ; 
 Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. 
 I, (can you pardon my presumption ?) I — 
 No wit, no genius, — yet for once will try. 
 
 Various the papers various wants produce, 
 The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. 
 
 * Works, it 1KL 
 
 Men are as various ; and, if right I scan, 
 Each sort of paper represents some man. 
 
 Pray note the fop, — half powder and half lace, — 
 Nice as a band-box were his dwelling-place ; 
 He's the gilt paper, which apart you store, 
 And lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire. 
 
 Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, 
 Are copy paper of inferior worth : 
 Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed, 
 Free to all pens, and prompt at every need. 
 
 The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and 
 spare, 
 Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, 
 Is coarse brown paper ; such as pedlers choose 
 To wrap up wares, which better men will use. 
 
 Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys 
 Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
 Will any paper match him ? Yes, throughout, 
 He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt. 
 
 The retail politician's anxious thought 
 Deems this side always right, and that stark 
 
 naught ; 
 He foams with censure ; with applause he raves, — 
 A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves ; 
 He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim, 
 While such a thing as foolscap has a name. 
 
 The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, 
 Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry, 
 Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure, — 
 What's he ? What ? Touch-paper to be sure. 
 
 What are our poets, take them as they fall,. 
 Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ? 
 Them and their works in the same class you'll find ; 
 They are the mere waste-paper of mankind. 
 
 Observe the maiden, innocently sweet ; 
 She's fair white-paper, an unsullied sheet; 
 On which the happy man, whom fate ordains, 
 May write his name, and take her for his pains. 
 
 One instance more, and only one I'll bring ; 
 'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing, 
 Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are 
 
 his own, 
 Formed on the feelings of his heart alone ; 
 True genuine royal paper is his breast ; 
 Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best. 
 
 Of the song of Country Joan, we have the 
 history in Prof. McVickar's Life of Bard* At a 
 supper of a convivial club, to which Franklin 
 belonged, and of which Dr. Bard, the physician 
 of Washington, was then a member, objection 
 was made, in jest, to married men being allowed 
 to sing the praises of poets' mistresses. The 
 next morning, at breakfast, Bard received the 
 following song from Franklin, with a request 
 that he would be ready with it by the next 
 meeting. 
 
 MT PLAIN COr/NTRY JOAN. 
 
 Of their Chloes and Phyllises poets may prate, 
 
 I sing my plain country Joan, 
 These twelve years my wife, still the joy of my 
 life, — 
 
 Blest day that I made her my own ! 
 
 Not a word of her face, of her shape, or her air, 
 Or of flames, or of darts, you shall hear; 
 
 I beauty admire, but virtue I prize, 
 That fades not in seventy year. 
 
 * Domestic Narrative of the Life of Samuel Bard, p. 18. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 115 
 
 Am I loaded with care, she takes off a large share, 
 That the burden ne'er makes me to reel ; 
 
 Does good fortune arrive, the joy of my wife 
 Quite doubles the pleasure I feel. 
 
 She defends nry good name, even when I'm to 
 blame, 
 
 Firm friend as to man e'er was given ; 
 Her compassionate breast feels for all the distressed, 
 
 Which draws down more blessings from heaven. 
 
 In health a companion delightful and dear, 
 
 Still easy, engaging, and free ; 
 In sickness no less than the carefulest nurse, 
 
 As tender as tender can be. 
 
 In peace and good order my household she guides, 
 
 Right careful to save what I gain ; 
 Yet cheerfully spends, and smiles on the friends 
 
 I've the pleasure to entertain. 
 
 Some faults have we all, and so has my Joan, 
 
 But then they're exceedingly small, 
 And, now I'm grown used to them, so like my own, 
 
 I scarcely can see them at all. 
 
 "Were the finest 3 T oung princess, with millions in 
 purse, 
 
 To be had in exchange for my Joan, 
 I eould not get a better, but might get a worse, 
 
 So I'll stick to my dearest old Joan. 
 
 The verses to the Mother Country have been 
 assigned to Franklin's second visit to England. 
 
 THE MOTHER COUNTRY. 
 
 We have an old mother that peevish is grown ; 
 She snubs us like children that scarce walk alone; 
 She forgets we're grown up, and have sense of our 
 own; 
 
 Which nobody can deny, deny, 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 If we don't obey orders, whatever the ease, 
 She frowns, and she chides, and she loses all pati- 
 Ence, and sometimes she hits us a slap in the face ; 
 Which nobody can deny, ifcc. 
 
 Her orders so odd are, we often suspect 
 That age has impaired her sound intellect ; 
 But still an old mother should have due respect; 
 Which nobody can deny, <fce. 
 
 Let's bear with her humors as well as we can ; 
 But why should we bear the abuse of her man ? 
 When servants make mischief, they earn the rattan ; 
 Which nobody should deny, <fec. 
 
 Know, too, ye bad neighbors, who aim to divide 
 The sons from the mother, that still she's our pride ; 
 And if ye attack her, we're all of her Bide; 
 Which nobody can deny, &c. 
 
 We'll join in her law-suits, to baffle all those 
 Who, to get what she has, will be often her foes; 
 For we know it must all be our own, when Bhe 
 goes ; 
 
 Which nobody can deny, deny, 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 The Mechanic's Song we find attributed to 
 Franklin, in an old collection of songs, "The 
 Charms of Melody," in Harvard Library. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S SONG. 
 
 Ye merry mechanics come join in my song, 
 
 And let your brisk chorus come bounding along; 
 
 Tho' some perhaps poor, and some rich there 
 
 may be, 
 Yet all are united, happy and free. 
 
 (Chorus) — Happy and free, 
 Happy and free, 
 Yet all are united, happy and free. 
 
 Ye tailors of ancient and noble renown, 
 Who clothe all the people in country and town; 
 Remember that Adam (your father and head) 
 Tho' the lord of the world, was a tailor by trade. 
 Happy and free, &c. 
 
 Masons who work in stone, mortar and brick, 
 And lay the foundation deep, solid and thick ; 
 Tho' hard be your labour, yet lasting your fame, 
 Both Egypt and China your wonders proclaim. 
 Happy and free, <fec. 
 
 Ye smiths who forge tools for all tradea^Prebelow, 
 You've nothing to fear while you smite and you 
 
 blow ; 
 All things you may conquer, so happy your lot, 
 If you are careful to strike while the iron is hot. 
 
 Happy and free, (fee. 
 Ye shoemakers nobly from ages long past, 
 Have defended your rights with the awl to your 
 
 last ; 
 And cobblers all merry not only stop holes, 
 But work night and day for the good of our souls, 
 Happy and free, <fec. 
 
 Ye cabinet-makers brave workers of wood, 
 As you work for the ladies your work must be good ; 
 Ye joiners and carpenters, far off and near, 
 Stick close to your trades and you've nothing to 
 fear. 
 
 Happy and free, <fec. 
 
 Ye coachmakers must not by tax be control'd, 
 But ship off your coaches and fetch us some gold ; 
 The roller of your coach made Copernicus reel, 
 And foresee the world to turn round like a wheel. 
 Happy and free, <fec. 
 
 Ye hatters who oft with hands not very fair, 
 Fix hats on a block for blockheads to wear; 
 Tho' charity covers a sin now and then, 
 You cover the heads and the sins of all men. 
 Happy and free, &a. 
 
 Ye carders, and spinners, and weavers attend, 
 And take the advice of poor Richard, your friend ; 
 Stick close to your looms, to your wheels, and your 
 
 card, 
 And you never need fear of times going hard. 
 Happy and free, &c. 
 
 Ye printers who give us our learning and news, 
 And impartially print for Turks, Christians, and 
 
 Jews; 
 Let your favorite toast ever sound thro' the streets, 
 A freedom to press, and a volume in sheets. 
 Happy and free, &e. 
 
 Ye coopers who rattle with driver and adze, 
 And lather each day upon hoops and on caggs ; 
 The famous old ballad of " Love in a tub," 
 You may sing to the tune of rub-a-dub-dub. 
 Happy and free, &e. 
 
 Ye ship-builders, riggers, and makers of sails, 
 All read the new Constitution prevails ; 
 And soon you may see on the proud swelling tide, 
 The ships of Columbia triumphantly ride. 
 Happy and free, &c. 
 
 Each tradesman turns out with his tools in his hand, 
 To cherish the arts and keep peace thro' the land ; 
 Each apprentice and journeyman join in my song, 
 And let your full chorus come bounding along. 
 Happy and free, <fcc. 
 
116 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE- 
 
 DAVID FEENCH. 
 John Paeke, in a work to be hereafter noticed, 
 has " inserted some poetical translations from the 
 Greek and Latin, which were consigned to obli- 
 vion, through the obliterating medium of rats and 
 moths, under the sequestered canopy of an anti- 
 quated trunk; written between the years of 1720 
 and 1730, by the learned and facetious David 
 French, Esq., late of the Delaware counties (now 
 State)." 
 
 Alas ! poor Yorick ! All that we know of the 
 career of the "learned and facetious" French is 
 the record of his death, and for that we are in- 
 debted to»the postscript of a letter, dated August 
 25, 1742: — "David French was buried yesterday 
 in Chester church by the side of his father, and 
 Mr. Moxon succeeds him as prothonotary" (of the 
 court at New Castle).* His father is stated, by 
 Mr. Fisher, to have been Colonel John French, a 
 prominent name in the local history of the lower 
 counties. 
 
 The translations, printed by Parke, are six in 
 number ; four are from the first, fourth, eleventh, 
 and twenty-sixth odes of Anacreon, and two from 
 the elegies of Ovid. The smoothness and ele- 
 gance of their versification testify to the accom- 
 plished scholarship of the writer, and make us 
 regret some evidence of his " facetiousness," as 
 well as learning, had not turned up in the " anti- 
 quated trunk." 
 
 ODES OF ANACEEON. 
 L 
 
 Fain would I Atride3 praise, 
 Or Cadmus sing in tuneful lays ; 
 The strings will sound of love alone, 
 Nor knows my heart another tone.- 
 I changed the shell and ev'ry string, 
 And now Alcides' toils I sing ; 
 In vain to sing his deeds I strove, 
 My lyre would play of nought but love. 
 Ye heroes now a long farewell ! 
 A softer theme best suits my shell, 
 Love's passion it will only telL 
 
 Of Himself. 
 On a bed of myrtles made, 
 Or on a greeny clover laid, 
 Willingly I'd pass away 
 In carousing — all the day ; 
 Cupid by my side should stand, 
 With a brimmer in his hand. 
 Like a never-standing wheel, 
 Fleeting time is running still ; 
 We ourselves will dust become, 
 And shall moulder in the tomb. 
 On my grave why should you lay 
 Oil, or gifts that soon decay \ 
 Rather now before I'm dead, 
 With rosy garlands crown my head ; 
 All the odors of the spring, 
 With a gentle mistress bring, 
 Ere I go to shades of night, 
 I'll put all my cares to flight. 
 
 On His Age. 
 Oft by the maidens I am told, 
 Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old ! 
 
 * Early Poets and Poeti-y of Pennsylvania, by J. F. Fisher. 
 — Pa. Hist. Soc. Mems., vol. ii. part ii. 59. 
 
 Take the glass, and see how years 
 Have despoil'd thy head of hairs; 
 See, thy forehead bald appears! 
 
 But whether hair adorns my head, 
 Or all my golden tresses fled, 
 I do not know, but from their lore, 
 Resounding my approaching hour. 
 This truth 1 know, infallibly, 
 'Tis time to live, if death be nigh. 
 
 To a Swallow. 
 Say now, thou twit' ring swallow, say, 
 How shall I punish thee ? which way ? 
 Say, shall I rather clip thy wing, 
 Or tongue, that thou no more mayst sing ? 
 As cruel Tereus once is said 
 T have done, while yet thou wert a maid. 
 Why dost thou, ere the morn is nigh, 
 Prattling round my window fly? 
 Why snatch Bathytla from my arms, 
 Whde I ia dreams possess her charms ? 
 
 Of Himself. 
 When Bacchus revels in my breast, 
 All my cares are lull'd to rest ; 
 Crcesus' self I then despise, 
 He's not so happy in my eyes. 
 Then from my lips flow warbling sounds, 
 Sweetest music then abounds : 
 With laurel wreaths I bind my brow, 
 I look disdainfully below. 
 Let fools impetuous rush to arms, 
 Me the gen'rous Lyteus charms. 
 Quickly give me, youth, the bowl, 
 In one large draught I'll drown my soul ; 
 Here, rather let me drunken lie, 
 Than sober, without wine to die. 
 
 MATHEE BTLES. 
 
 Tnis witty divine was born in Boston, 1706. He 
 was the son of an Englishman, who died a year 
 after his son's birth. On his mother's side he 
 was descended from Richard, the founder of the 
 Mather family, and John Cotton. Leaving Har- 
 vard in 1725, he was ordained in 1733 the first 
 pastor of the Hollis Street Church. Here he 
 remained until the outbreak of the American 
 Revolution, when, in consequence of his adherence 
 to the English government, this connexion was 
 broken off. In 1777 he was denounced in town 
 meeting, and afterwards tried before a special 
 court on the charges of having remained in the 
 town during the sege, prayed for the king, and 
 received the visits of British officers. He was 
 convicted, and sentenced to imprisonment with 
 his family in a guard-ship and to be sent to Eng- 
 land. The first part of the sentence was changed 
 to confinement in his own house, and the second 
 was never put in execution. During this impri- 
 sonment he amused the good people of Boston by 
 on one occasion very composedly marching to and 
 fro before his own door, mounting guard over 
 himself, having persuaded his sentinel to go on an 
 errand for him on condition of supplying his 
 place during his absence. The guard was soon 
 removed, again restored, and not long after dis- 
 missed — changes which drew from the doctor the 
 remark that " he had been guarded, reguarded, 
 and disregarded." Disregarded he remained, as 
 he was henceforth suffered to live in retirement. 
 
MATHER BYLES. 
 
 117 
 
 We have a last glimpse of Dr. Byles in the corres- 
 pondence of Franklin : 
 
 Mather Byles to B. Franklin. 
 
 Boston, 14th May, 1787. 
 Sir, 
 
 It is long since I had the pleasure of writing to 
 you by Mr. Edward Church, to thank you for your 
 friendly mention of me in a letter that I find was 
 transmitted to the University of Aberdeen. I doubt 
 whether you ever received it, but, under great 
 weakness by old age and a palsy, I seize this oppor- 
 tunity of employing my daughter to repeat the 
 thanks, which I aimed to express in that letter. 
 Your Excellency is now the man, that I early ex- 
 pected to see you. I congratulate my country upon 
 her having produced a Franklin, and can only add, 
 I wish to meet you where complete felicity and we 
 shall be for ever united. I am, my dear and early 
 friend, your most affectionate and humble servant, 
 
 M. Bvles. 
 
 P.S. I refer you to the bearer, Mr. Pierpont, to 
 inform you how my life, and that of my daughters, 
 have been saved by your points. 
 
 His death occurred some months after in 1788. 
 He left two daughters, who remained unflinching 
 loyalists, residing together in their father's house, 
 on the corner of Nassau and Tremont streets, 
 which no offer would induce them to part with, 
 taking their tea off a table at which Franklin 
 had partaken of the same beverage, blowing 
 their fire with a bellows two hundred years old, 
 going to church on Sundays in dresses of the last 
 century, until 1835, when one of them, as the 
 story goes, died of grief, as it is supposed, at hav- 
 ing part of the old family mansion pulled down 
 for the improvement of the street. The survivor 
 lived two years longer. Both were unmarried, 
 and must have attained a good old age, as we find 
 Dr. Byles's daughters spoken of as a couple of 
 fine young ladies by the Rev. Jacob Bailey* in 
 1778. 
 
 * Jacob Bailey was born at Rowley, Mass., in 1731. He was 
 educated at Harvard College, and after visiting England to ob- 
 tain deacon and priest's orders, became a missionary in Pow- 
 nalborough, Maine. Adhering to the crown at the revolution, 
 he retired to Nova Scotia, where the remainder of his life was 
 
 Dr. Byles's reputation as a wit has over- 
 shadowed his just claims to regard as a pulpit 
 orator. His published sermons, of which several 
 are extant, some of them having reached a 
 second and third edition, show him to have pos- 
 sessed a fine imagination, great skill in amplifica- 
 tion, and great command of language combined 
 with terseness of expression. Passages in these 
 discourses would not do discredit to the best old 
 English divines. Several were preached on pub- 
 lic occasions, but are, like all his other discourses, 
 entirely free from the political allusions in which 
 his brother clergymen so frequently indulged. 
 On being asked why he avoided this topic, he re- 
 plied, " I have thrown up four breast-works, 
 behind which I have entrenched myself, neither 
 of which can be forced. In the first place, I do 
 not understand politics ; in the second place, you 
 all do, every man and mother's son of you ; in the 
 third place, you have politics all the week, pray 
 let one day in seven be devoted to religion ; in 
 the fourth place, I am engaged in a work of infi- 
 nitely greater importance : give me any subject 
 to preach on of more consequence than the truths 
 I bring you, and I will preach on it the next 
 sabbath." 
 
 In the early part of his life, before and after 
 his ordination, Dr. Byles wrote and published the 
 following poems: — 
 
 To his Excellency Governor Belcher, on the 
 Death of his Lady, an Epistle. 1736, pp. 4. 
 
 On the Death of the Queen, a Poem. 1738, 
 pp.7. 
 
 An Elegy addressed to his Excellency Governor 
 Belcher, on the Death of his Brother-in-law, the 
 Hon. Daniel Oliver, Esq. ; pp. 6. 
 
 The Comet, 1744, pp. 4. 
 
 The Conflagration, the God of Tempest, and 
 Earthquake, pp. 8. 
 
 A portion of these were collected, with several 
 others, in a small 18mo. volume of 118 pages,* in 
 1736, with the following brief 
 
 Preface. The Poems collected in these pages, 
 were, for the most part, written as the amusements 
 of looser hours, while the author belonged to the 
 college, and was unbending his mind from severer 
 studies in the entertainment of the classics. Most 
 of them have been several times printed here, at 
 London, and elsewhere, either separately or in mis- 
 cellanies : and the author has now drawn them into 
 a volume. Thus he gives up at once these lighter 
 productions, and bids adieu to the airy Muse. 
 
 The poems are for the most part devotional or 
 elegiac, including several hymns, verses written 
 in Milton's Paradise Lost, To the Memory of a 
 Young Commander slain in a battle with the 
 Indians 1724, To an Ingenious Young Gentleman 
 on his dedicating a poem to the author, To Pic- 
 torio on the sight of his pictures, and verses to 
 Watts and others. 
 
 He also contributed a number of essays and 
 occasional verses to the New England Weekly 
 
 passed. His MS. Journal, with a portion of his corrospondenco, 
 edited by the Eev. Wm. J. Bartlet of Chelsea, Mass., was pub- 
 lished by the Protestant Episcopal Historical Society, in an 
 octavo volume in 1S53. Mr. Bartlet has incorporated tho 
 Journal in a biosraphy of its author, in which ho has intro- 
 duced a large mass of interesting historical Information. 
 
 * Poems on Several Occasions. By Mr. Byles. Boston, 
 1736. 
 
118 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Journal. In 1744, A Collection of Poems by 
 Several Hands* appeared in Boston. It is a 
 capital miscellany of verses, which seem to have 
 been floating about in periodicals or manuscript 
 at the period. Byles no doubt contributed some 
 of its fifty-five pages, but none of his productions 
 are pointed out in a copy now in the possession 
 of Mr. George Ticknor,t which bears on its title 
 the inscription, "Th. Byles, Given her by her 
 Father, Feb. 14, 1763," and contains several 
 annotations in the handwriting of the original 
 donor or owner. It is, however, easy to fix upon 
 him the courtly answer to the following compli- 
 mentary request, in which the blanks have been 
 carefully filled up with the name of Byles. 
 
 TO ********* DESIRING TO BOEEOW POPE'S HOMER. 
 
 From a Lady. 
 
 The Muse now waits from * * * 's hands to press 
 Homer's high page, in Pope's illustrious dress : 
 How the pleas'd goddess triumphs to pronounce, 
 The names of * * *, Pope, Homer, all at once I 
 
 The Answer. 
 
 Soon as your beauteous letter I peruse, 
 Swift as an echo flies the answ'ring muse; 
 Joyful and eager at your soft commands, 
 To bring my Pope submissive to your hands. 
 
 Go, my dear Pope, transport th' attentive fair, 
 
 And soothe, with winning harmony, her ear. 
 
 'Twill add new graces to thy heav'nly song, 
 
 To be repeated by her gentle tongue; 
 
 Thy bright'ning page in unknown charms shall grow, 
 
 Fresh beauties bloom, and fire redoubled glow ; 
 
 With sounds improv'd, thy artful numbers roll, 
 
 Soft as her love, and tuneful as her soul: 
 
 Old Homer's shade shall smile if she commend, 
 
 And Pope be proud to write, as * * * * to lend. 
 
 It also contains a long and pleasantly written 
 poem on Commencement Day, and a few bur- 
 lesque ballads probably written by Byles or Joseph 
 Green. One of these is as follows. 
 
 A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF HOW THE LAMENTABLE WICKED 
 FRENCH AND INDIAN PIRATES "WEEE TAKEN BT THE VALIANT 
 ENGLISHMEN. 
 
 Good people all, pray understand 
 
 my doleful song of wo: 
 It tells a thing done lately, and 
 
 not very long ago. 
 
 How Frenchmen, Indians eke, a troop 
 (who all had drunk their cogues) 
 
 They went to take an English sloop: 
 the sad pack of rogues! 
 
 The English made their party good, 
 
 each was a jolly lad: 
 The Indians run away for blood, 
 
 and strove to hide like mad. 
 
 Three of the fellows in a fright, 
 
 (that is to say in fears) 
 Leaping into the sea out-right, 
 
 sows'd over head and ears. 
 
 They on the waves in woful wise, 
 to swim did make a strife, 
 
 * A Collection of Poems. By Several Hands. Boston : 
 Printed and Sold by B. Green and Company, at their Printing 
 House in Newbury-street ; and D. Gookin, in Cornhill. 1744 
 4to. pp. 56. 
 
 T This, with other rarities of the kind, has been liberally 
 plaeed at our disposal by Mr. Ticknor. 
 
 [So in a pond a kitten cries, 
 and dabbles for his life ; 
 
 While boys about the border scud, 
 with brickbats and with stones; 
 
 Still dowse him deeper in the mud; 
 and break his little bones.] 
 
 What came of them we cannot tell, 
 
 though many things are said: 
 But this, besure, we know full well, 
 
 if they -were drown'd they're dead. 
 
 Our men did neither cry nor squeek; 
 
 but fought like any sprites : 
 And this 1 to the honour speak 
 
 of them, the valiant wights I 
 
 O did I not the talent lack, 
 
 of 'thaniel Whittemore ; 
 Up to the stars — i' th' almanack, 
 
 I'd cause their fame to roar. 
 
 Or could I sing like father French, 
 
 so clever and so high; 
 Their names should last like oaken bench, 
 
 to perpetuity. 
 
 How many pris'ners in they drew, 
 
 say, spirit of Tom Law ! 
 Two Frenchmen, and papooses two, 
 
 three sannops, and a squaw. 
 
 The squaw, and the papooses, they 
 
 are to be left alive : 
 Two French, three Indian men must die: 
 
 which makes exactly five. 
 
 [Thus cypher, Sirs, you see I can, 
 
 and eke make poetry; 
 In commonwealth, sure such a man, 
 
 how useful must he be!] 
 
 The men were all condemn'd, and try'd, 
 
 and one might almost say, 
 Theyl or be hang'd, or be repriev'd, 
 
 or else they'l run away. 
 
 Fair maidens, now see-saw, and wail, 
 
 and sing in doleful dumps ; 
 And eke, ye lusty lubys all, 
 
 arise and stir your stumps. 
 
 This precious po'm shall sure be read, 
 
 In ev'ry town, I tro : 
 In every chimney corner said, 
 
 to Portsmouth, Boston fro. 
 
 And little children when they cry, 
 
 this ditty shall beguile ; 
 And tho' they pout, and sob, and sigh, 
 
 shall hear, and hush, and smile. 
 
 The pretty picture too likewise, 
 
 a-top looks well enough ; 
 Tho' nothing to the purpose 'tis, 
 
 'twill serve to set it off. 
 
 The poet will be glad, no doubt, 
 
 when all his verse shall say, 
 Each boy, and girl, and lass, and lout, 
 
 for ever, and for aye. 
 
 The collection also contains a number of eulo- 
 gies, which show that Byles was in high favor in 
 Boston. His reputation was not, however, con- 
 fined to his own town or country, as he corres- 
 ponded with Lansdowne, Watts, and Pope, the 
 latter of whom sent him his Odyssey. 
 
 The Doctor was an inveterate punster. The 
 Rev. Jacob Bailey, the Missionary at Pownal- 
 borough, before the Revolution, says of him, after 
 a visit to his house, in 1778 : " The perpetual 
 
MATHER BYLES. 
 
 119 
 
 reach after puns renders his conversation rather 
 distasteful to persons of ordinary elegance and 
 refinement." And Mr. Kettell* quotes some 
 contemporary verses to the same effect : 
 
 There's punning Byles provokeB our smiles, 
 
 A man of stately parts. 
 He visits folks to crack his jokes, 
 
 Which never mend their hearts. 
 
 With strutting gait and wig so great, 
 
 He walks along the streets; 
 And throws out wit, or what's like it, 
 
 To every one he meets. 
 
 The latter part of his parody of Joseph Green's 
 parody on his psalm, shows that he was occasion- 
 ally coarse in his jesting; hut we have never 
 heard any indelicacy or irreverence alleged against 
 him. 
 
 The anai which have heen preserved, show 
 that, his reputation a> a wit was well deserved. 
 There was a slough opposite his house, in which, 
 on a certain wet day, a chaise containing two of 
 the town council stuck fast. Dr. Byles came to 
 his door, and saluted the officials with the remark, 
 " Gentlemen, I have often complained to you of 
 this nuisance without any attention being paid to 
 it, and I am very glad to see you stirring in this 
 matter now." 
 
 In the year 1780, a very dark- day occurred, 
 which was long remembered as " the dark day." 
 A lady neighbor sent her son to the Doctor to 
 know if lie could tell her the cause of the 
 obscurity. " My dear," was the answer to the 
 messenger, " give my compliments to your mother, 
 and tell her that I am as much in the dark as 
 she is." 
 
 One day a ship arrived at Boston with three 
 hundred street lamps. The same day, the Doctor 
 happened to receive a call from a lady whose 
 conversational powers were not of the kind to 
 render a long interview desirable. He availed 
 himself of the newly arrived cargo to despatch 
 his visitor. " Have you heard the news ?" said 
 he, with emphasis. " Oh, no ! What news ?" 
 " Why three hundred new lights have come over 
 in the ship this morning from London, and the 
 selectmen have wisely ordered them to be put in 
 irons immediately." The visitor forthwith 
 decamped in search of the particulars of this inva- 
 sion of religious liberty. 
 
 When brought before his judges at the time of 
 his trial they requested him to sit down and 
 warm himself. "Gentlemen," was the reply, 
 " when I came among you, I expected persecu- 
 tion; but I could not think you would have 
 offered me the fire so suddenly." 
 
 A mot of Byles's is related by the hospitable 
 wits of Boston, to the visitor, as he passes by 
 King's Chapel, in Tremont street. There are two 
 courses of windows by which that building is 
 lighted on its sides; the lower ones are nearly 
 square. In allusion to this architectural pecu- 
 liarity of the square embrasures of its solid walls, 
 Byles said that he had often heard of ecclesiasti- 
 cal canons, but never saw the portholes before, 
 flhother, a revolutionary witticism, does justice 
 
 * Specimens of American Poetry, i. 125. 
 twa are indebted for a few capital examples, to Tudor's Life 
 of Otia. 
 
 to Byles's toryism. When the British troops, the 
 lobsters, passed his door, after entering the town : 
 " Ah," said he, " now our grievances will be red- 
 dressed." * 
 
 His system of practical joking is said to have 
 been as felicitous as his verbal, though rather 
 more expensive to the victims. 
 
 The Doctor, however, occasionally met his 
 match. A lady whom he had long courted 
 unsuccessfully, married a gentleman by the name 
 of Quincy. " So, madam," said the unsuccess- 
 ful suitor, on meeting her afterwards, " it appears 
 you prefer a Quincy to Byles." " Yes, for if there 
 had been anything worse than Mies, God Would 
 have afflicted Job with them." 
 
 He was not, however, always unsuccessful with 
 the fair sex, as he was twice married. His first 
 wife was a niece of Governor Belcher, and her 
 successor, the dignity apparently diminishing 
 with the relationship, a daughter of Lieutenant- 
 Governor Tailer. 
 
 In person Dr. Byles was tall and well propor- 
 tioned. His voice was powerful and melodious, 
 and he was a graceful and impressive speaker. 
 
 FEO.M A SERMON ON TIIE PRESENT V1LEXESS OF THE BODY, AND 
 ITS FUTUEE GLOElOUS CHANGE HY CHEIST. 
 
 It is a dying body, and therefore a vile Body. 
 Here our Bodies now stand, perhaps nourishing m 
 all the Pride and Bloom of Youth : strong our 
 jSinews ; moist our Bones; active and supple our 
 Joints; our Pulses beating with Vigor, and our 
 Hearts leaping with a Profusion of Life and Energy. 
 But oh! vain Appearance and gaudy Dream! Surely 
 every man at his best Estate, is altogether Vanity. 
 He walks in a vain show, he glitters with delusive 
 Colors; he spends his years as an Idle Tale. What 
 avails it, that he is now hardy and robust, who must 
 quickly pant upon a Death-bed. What avails it, 
 that his limbs are sprightly in their easy Motions, 
 which must quickly stretch in their dying Agony. 
 The Lips now fiush'd with a Rosy Colour, will anon 
 quiver and turn pale. The Eyes that rose with a 
 sparkling Vivacity, will fix in a ghastly Horror. 
 The most musical Yoice will be stopp'd; and the 
 tuneful Breath fly away. The Face where Beauty 
 now triumphs, will appear cold, and wan, and dis- 
 mal, rifled by the Hand of Heath. A cold sweat 
 will chill the Body ; a hoarse Rattling will fill the 
 Throat; the Heart will heave with Pain and Labour, 
 and the Lungs catch for Breath, but gasp in vain. 
 Our Friends stand in Tears about our Bed. They 
 weep; but they cannot help us. The very water 
 with which they would co'ol and moisten our parched 
 Mouths, we receive with a hollow groan. Anon we 
 give a Gasp, and they shriek out in Distress, " Oh! 
 He's Gone! He's Dead!" The Body in that Instant 
 stretches on the sheets, an awful Corpse. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It is folded in a Winding Sheet, it is nailed in a 
 black Coffin, and it is deposited in a silent Vault, 
 amidst Shade and Solitude. The skin breaks and 
 moulders away ; the Flesh drops in Dust from the 
 Bones; the Bones are covered with black Mould, 
 and Worms twist about them. The Coffins break, 
 and the Graves sink in, and the disjointed Skeleton 
 strews the lonely Vault. 
 
 ***** 
 
 But oh! what a blessed Change will the Resur- 
 
 * "On my return to Boston." says John Adams, in his Auto- 
 biography of the year 1768, "I found the town full of troops, 
 and as Dr. Byles of punning memory expressed it, our griev- 
 ances red-dressed." Adams's Works, ii. 213. 
 
120 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 reetion make upon our dead Bodie;. Perhaps the 
 Worms have feasted themselves upon our Last Dust ; 
 but they 6hall refund it, and give back every Atom ; 
 all that really belc ngs to our numerical Body. 
 The Fishes perhaps have eaten the Carcase, buried 
 in the Waves, and Lost in the Depths of the Ocean. 
 But the sea also shall return it back, and give up 
 the Dead which are in it. These Bodies may dis- 
 solve, and scatter among the Elements. Our Eluids 
 may forsake their Vessels ; the bolid contract, and 
 fold up in its primitive Miniature. And even after 
 that the little invisible Bones may moulder to finer 
 Dust, the Dust may refine to Water, wander in a 
 Cloud, float in a River, or be lost in the wide Sea, 
 and undistinguished Drop among the Waves. They 
 may be again sucked up by the Sun, and fall in a 
 Shower upon the Earth ; they may refresh the 
 Fields with Dew, flourish in a Spire of Grass ; look 
 green in a Leaf, or gaudy in a Flower or a Blossom. 
 
 THE EHTTEEFLY, A TYPE OF THE EESU ERECTION I FROM THE 
 MEDITATION OF CASSI3I, THE SON OF AIIilED. AN ESSAY. 
 
 What more entertaining specimen of the Resur- 
 rection is there, in the whole Circumference of 
 Nature ? Here are all the wonders of the Day in 
 Miniature. It was once a despicable Worm, it is 
 raised a kind of painted little Bird. Formerly it 
 crawled along with a slow and leisurely Motion : 
 now it flutters aloft upon its guilded Wings. How 
 much improved is its speckled Covering, when all 
 the Gaudiuess of Colour is scattered about its 
 Plumage. It is spangled with Gold and Silver, and 
 has every Gem of the Orient sparkling among its 
 Feathers. Here a brilliant spot, like a clear Dia- 
 mond, twinkles with an unsullied Flame, and trem- 
 bles with num'rou3 Lights, that glitter in a gay 
 Confusion. There a Saphire casts a milder Gleam, 
 and shew3 like the blue Expanse of Heaven in a 
 fair Winter Evening. In this Place an Emerald, like 
 the calm Ocean, displays its cheerful and vivid Green. 
 And close by a Ruby — flames with the ripened 
 Blush of the Morning. The Breast and Legs, like 
 Ebony, shone with a glorious Darkness ; while its 
 expanded Wings are edged with the gulden Mag- 
 nificence of the Topaz. Thus the illustrious little 
 creature is furnished with the diviuest Art, and 
 looks like an animated composition of Jewels, that 
 blend their promiscuous Beams about him. Thus, 
 O C'assim, shall the Bodies of Good Men be raised; 
 thus shall they shine, and thus fly away. 
 
 FEOM THE CONFLAGRATION. 
 
 But ! what sounds are able to convey 
 The wild confusions of the dreadful day! 
 Eternal mountains totter on their base, 
 And strong convulsions work the valley's face ; 
 Fierce hurricanes on sounding pinions soar. 
 Rush o'er the land, on the toss'd billows roar, 
 And dreadful in resistless eddies driven, 
 Shake all the crystal battlements of heaven. 
 See the wild winds, big blustering in the air, 
 Drive through the forests, down the mountains tear, 
 Sweep o'er the valleys in their rapid course, 
 And nature bends beneath the impetuous force. 
 Storms rush at storms, at tempests tempests roar, 
 Dash waves on waves, and thunder to the shore. 
 Columns of smoke on heavy wings ascend, 
 And dancing sparkles fly before the wind. 
 Devouring flames, wide-waving, roar aloud, 
 And melted mountains flow a fiery flood : 
 Then, all at once, immense the fires arise, 
 A bright destruction wraps the crackling skies ; 
 While all the elements to melt conspire, 
 And the world blazes in the final fire. 
 
 Yet shall ye, flames, the wasting globe refine, 
 
 And bid the skies with purer splendour shine, 
 The earth, which the prolific fires consume, 
 To beauty burns, and withers into bloom ; 
 Improving in the fertile flame it lies, 
 Fades into form, and into vigour dies: 
 Fresh-dawning glories blush amidst the blaze, 
 And nature all renews her flowery face. 
 With endless charms the everlasting year 
 Rolls round the seasons in a full career ; 
 Spring, ever-blooming, bit's the fields rejoice, 
 And warbling birds try their melodious voice; 
 Where'er she treads, lilies unbidden blow, 
 Quick tulip3 rise, and sudden roses glow: 
 Her pencil paints a thousand beauteous scenes, 
 Where blossoms bud amid immortal greens; 
 Each stream, in mazes, murmurs as it flows, 
 And floating forests gently bend their boughs. 
 Thou, autumn, too, sitt'st in the fragrant shade, 
 While the ripe fruits blush all around thy head: 
 And lavish nature, with luxuriant hands, 
 All the soft mouths, in gay confusion blends. 
 
 NEW ENGLAND HTMN. 
 
 To Thee the tuneful Anthem soars, 
 To Thee, our Fathers' God, and our's ; 
 
 This wilderness we chose our seat: 
 To rights secured by equal laws 
 From persecution's iron claws, 
 
 We here have sought our calm retreat. 
 
 See ! how the Flocks of Jesus rise ! 
 See ! how the face of Paradise 
 
 Blooms through the thickets of the wild 
 Here Liberty erects her throne ; 
 Here Plenty pours her treasures down ; 
 
 Peace smiles, as heavenly cherubs mild. 
 
 Lord, guard thy Favors : Lord, extend 
 Where farther Western Suns descend ; 
 
 Nor Southern rieas the blessings bound; 
 Till Freedom lift her cheerful head, 
 Till pure Religion onward spread, 
 
 And beainii:g wrap the world around. 
 
 JOSEPH GREEK 
 
 Joseph Gp.eex, who, during the greater part of a 
 long lifetime, maintained the reputation of being 
 the foremost wit of his day, was born in Boston, 
 in 1706, and took his degree at Harvard, at the 
 age of twenty. He next engaged in business as 
 a distiller,* and continued in mercantile pursuits 
 for many years, thereby amassing a large fortune. 
 Without taking a prominent part in politics, his 
 pen was always ready when any occasion for 
 satire presented, to improve it for the columns of 
 the contemporary press, or the separate venture 
 
 p^ fijzttt 
 
 of a pamphlet. These effusions were in smoothly 
 written verse, and are full of humor. One of the 
 most prominent is, Entertainment for A Win- 
 ter's Evening : being a full and true Account of a 
 very strange and wonderful Sight seen in Boston, 
 on the twenty-seventh of December, 1749, at noon 
 day, the truth of which can be attested by a great 
 number of people, who actually saw the same 
 with their own eyes, by me, the Hon, B. B. Esq. 
 This long title is a prelude to a poem of sorw 
 dozen loosely printed octavo pages only, in which 
 the celebration of a masonic festival in a church 
 
 * "Ambition fired the 'stiller's pate.'' — Jfyles. 
 
JOSEPH GREEN. 
 
 121 
 
 is satirized : the procession to the place of assem- 
 blage; the sermon heard; the adjournment to a 
 tavern, and the junketing which followed, being 
 the subject matter, the writer evidently regarding 
 a place of public worship as an incongruous loca- 
 lity for such an assemblage. It is thus summed 
 up in the opening lines: — 
 
 O Muse renowu'd for story-telling, 
 
 Fair Clio, leave thy airy dwelling. 
 
 Now while the streams like marble stand, 
 
 Held fast by winter's iey hand ; 
 
 Now while the hills are eloth'd in snow ; 
 
 Now while the keen north- west winds blow; 
 
 From the bleak fields and chilling air 
 
 Unto the warmer hearth repair: 
 
 Where friends in cheerful circle met 
 
 In social conversation sit. 
 
 Come, goddess, and our ears regale 
 
 With a diverting Christmas talc. 
 
 come, and in thy verse declare 
 
 Who were the men, and what they were, 
 
 And what their names, and what their fame, 
 
 And what the cause for which they came 
 
 To house of God from house of ale, 
 
 And how the parson told his tale : 
 
 How they return'd, in manner odd, 
 
 To house of ale from house of God. 
 
 Another of his poems is, A Mournful Lamen- 
 tation for the Death of Mr. Old Tenor, written 
 after a change in the currency. Ho was also a 
 contributor with Byles, and others, to "A Collec- 
 tion of Poems, by several hands," published at 
 Boston, in 1744. An Elegy on the long-expected 
 death of Old Janus (the New England Weekly 
 Courant) is no doubt from the pen of one of the 
 two wits, whose productions it is not always easy 
 to distinguish, and whose talents were combined 
 in a wit combat which excited much merriment 
 at the time. Itarose from the desire of Governor 
 Belcher to secure the good company of Dr. Byles 
 in a visit by sea to some Indian tribes on the 
 eastern coast of the province. Byles declined his 
 invitation, and the Governor set sail from Boston, 
 alone, on a Saturday, dropping anchor before the 
 castle in the bay, for Sunday. Here he per- 
 suaded the chaplain to exchange pulpits with the 
 eloquent Doctor, whom he invited on board in 
 the afternoon, to tea. On leaving the cabin at 
 the conclusion of the repast, he found himself, to 
 his surprise, at sea, with a fair wind, the anchor 
 having been weighed while he was talking over 
 the cheering cup. Return was out of the ques- 
 tion, and the Doctor, whose good-natured counte- 
 nance seems to indicate that he could take as well 
 as give a joke, no doubt made himself contented 
 and agreeable. On the following Sunday, in pre- 
 paring for divine service, it was found that there 
 was no hymn-book on board, and to meet the 
 emergency, Byles composed a few verses. On 
 their return Green wrote an account of this im- 
 promptu, with a parody upon it, to which Byles 
 responded, by a poem and parody in return. The 
 whole will be found at the conclusion of this 
 article. 
 
 Green's satire was universally directed against 
 arbitrary power, and in favor of freedom. He 
 frequently parodied the addresses of Governor 
 Belcher, who, it is supposed, stood in some awe 
 of his pen. In 1774, after the withdrawal of the 
 charter of Massachusetts by the British Parlia- 
 
 ment, the councillors of the province were ap- 
 pointed by the crown, instead of as heretofore 
 being chosen by popular election. One of these 
 appointments was tendered to Green, but imme- 
 diately declined by him. He did not, however, 
 take any active part on the popular side, the quiet, 
 retiring habit of his mind, combining with the 
 infirmities of his advanced years, as an induce- 
 ment to repose. In 1775 he sailed for England, 
 where he passed the remainder of his life in a 
 secluded but not inhospitable retirement. He died 
 in 1780. A humorous epitaph written on Green 
 by one of his friends, in 1743, indicates the popu- 
 lar appreciation of his talents : 
 
 Siste Viator, here lies one. 
 Whose life was whim, whose soul was pun, 
 And if you go too near his hearse, 
 He'll joke you, both in prose and verse. 
 
 HYMN WRITTEN DURING A VOTAGF. 
 
 Great God thy works our wonder raise ; 
 
 To thee our swelling notes belong ; 
 While skies and winds, and rocks and seas, 
 
 Around shall echo to our song. 
 
 Thy power produced this mighty frame, 
 
 Aloud to thee the tempes-s roar, 
 Or softer breezes tune thy name 
 
 Gently along the shelly shore. 
 
 Round thee the scaly nation roves, 
 Thy opening hands their joys bestow, 
 
 Through all the blushing coral groves, 
 These silent gay retreats below. 
 
 See the broad sun forsake the skies, 
 
 Glow on the waves and downward glide. 
 
 Anon heaven opens all its eyes, 
 
 And star-beams tremble o'er the tide. 
 
 Each various scene, or clay or night, 
 
 Lord ! points to thee our nourish'd soul; 
 
 Thy glories fix our whole delight; 
 So the touch'd needle courts the pole. 
 
 In David's Psalms an oversight 
 
 Byles found one morning at his tea, 
 
 Alas ! that lie should never write 
 A proper psalm to sing at sea. 
 
 Thus ruminating on his seat. 
 
 Ambitious thoughts at length prevailM. 
 The bard determined to complete 
 
 The part wherein the prophet fail'd. 
 
 He sat awhile and stroke 1 his muse,* 
 Then taking up lib tuneful pen, 
 
 Wrote a few stanzas for the use 
 Of his seafaring brethren. 
 
 The task perform'd, the bard content, 
 Well chosen was each flowing word; 
 
 On a short voyage himself he went, 
 To hear it read and sung on board. 
 
 Most serious Christians do aver, 
 (Their credit sure we may rely on.) 
 
 In former times that after prayer, 
 They used to sing a song of Zion. 
 
 Our modern parson hnvinff pray'd. 
 Unless loud fame our faith beguiles, 
 
 Sat down, took out his book and said, 
 "Let's sing a psalm of Mather Byles." 
 
 * Byles's favorite cat, so named by his friends. 
 
122 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 At first, when he began to read, 
 
 Their heads the assembly downward hung. 
 But he with boldness did proceed, 
 
 And thus he read, and thus they sung. 
 
 THE PSALM. 
 
 "With vast amazement we survey 
 
 The wonders of the deep, 
 "Where mackerel swim, and porpoise play, 
 
 And crabs and lobsters creep. 
 
 Fish of all kinds inhabit here, 
 
 And throng the dark abode. 
 Here haddock, hake, and flounders are, 
 
 And eels, and perch, and cod. 
 From raging winds and tempests free, 
 
 So emoothly as we pass, 
 The shining surface seems to be 
 
 A piece of Bristol glass. 
 But when the winds and tempests rise. 
 
 And foaming billows swell, 
 The vessel mounts above the skies, 
 
 And lower sinks than helL 
 
 Our heads the tottering motion feel, 
 
 And quickly we become 
 Giddy as new-dropp'd calves, and reel 
 
 Like Indians drunk with rum. 
 
 "What praises then are due that we 
 
 Thus far have safely got, 
 Amarescoggin tribe to see, 
 
 And tribe of Penobscot. 
 
 PARODY BY MATHER BYLES. 
 
 In Byles's works an oversight 
 
 Green spy'd, as once hesmok'd his chunk; 
 Alas! that Byles should never write 
 
 A song to sing, when folks are drunk. 
 
 Thus in the chimney on his block, 
 
 Ambition fir'd the 'stiller's pate ; 
 He summon'd all his little stock, 
 
 The poet's volume to complete. 
 
 Long paus'd the lout,' and Bcratch'd his skull, 
 Then took his chalk [he own'd no pen,] 
 
 And scrawl'd some doggrel, for the whole 
 Of his flip-drinking brethren. 
 
 The task perform'd — not to content-— 
 111 chosen was each Grub-street word ; 
 
 Strait to the tavern club he went, 
 To hear it bellow'd round the board. 
 
 Unknown delights his ears explore, 
 
 Inur'd to midnight caterwauls, 
 To hear his hoarse companions roar, 
 
 The horrid thing his dulness scrawls. 
 
 The club, if fame we may rely on, 
 Conven'd, to hear the drunken catch, 
 
 At the three-horse-shoes, or red lion — 
 Tipling began the night's debauch. 
 
 The little 'stiller took the pint 
 
 Full fraught with flip and songs obscene, . 
 And, after a long stutt'ring, meant 
 
 To sing a song of Josy Green. 
 
 Soon as with stam'ring tongue, to read 
 
 The drunken ballad, he began, 
 The club from clam'ring strait recede, 
 
 To hear him roar the thing alone. 
 
 With vast amazement we survey 
 
 The can so broad, so deep, 
 Where punch succeeds to strong sangree, 
 
 Both to delightful flip. 
 
 Drink of all smacks, inhabit here, 
 
 And throng the dark abode ; 
 Here's rum, and sugar, and small beer, 
 
 In a continual flood. 
 
 From cruel thoughts and conscience free, 
 
 From dram to dram we pass: 
 Our cheeks, like apples, ruddy be ; 
 
 Our eyeballs look like glass. 
 
 At once, like furies up we rise, 
 
 Our raging passions, swell ; 
 We hurl the bottle to the skies, 
 
 But why, we cannot tell. 
 
 Our brains a tott'ring motion feel, 
 
 And quickly we become 
 Sick, as with negro steaks,* and reel 
 
 Like Indians drunk with rum. 
 
 Thus lost in deep tranquillity, 
 
 We sit, supine and sot, 
 Till we two moons distinctly see — 
 
 Come give us t'other pot. 
 
 Dr. Byles's cat, alluded to in the piece just quot- 
 ed, received the compliment of an elegy at her 
 decease, which is stated, in an early manuscript 
 copy in the Philadelphia library, to be written 
 by Joseph Green. The excellence of the lines 
 will, perhaps, embalm grimalkin in a more than 
 Egyptian perpetuity, and give her claim to rank, 
 at a humble distance, with the great ones of her 
 race : " Tyb our cat," of Gammer Gurton's Needle, 
 the sportive companion of Montaigne in his tower,t 
 and the grimalkin who so demurely graces the 
 top of the great arm-chair of the famous Dr. Syn- 
 tax. Our copy is taken from the London Maga- 
 zine of November, 1733, where it is introduced 
 by a request for its insertion by a subscriber, and 
 is accompanied by the psalm and parodies already 
 quoted. 
 
 THE POET'S LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF niS CAT, WHICH 
 HE USED TO CALL HIS MUSE. 
 
 Felis qujpdam delirium erat cujnsdam Adolescentis. 
 
 ^Esop. 
 
 Oppress'd with grief in heavy strains I mourn 
 The partner of my studies from me torn. 
 How shall I sing? what numbers shall I chuse ? 
 For in my fav'rite cat I've lost my muse. 
 No more I feel my mind with raptures fir'd, 
 I want those airs that Puss so oft inspir'd; 
 No crowding thoughts my ready fancy fill, 
 Nor words run fluent from my easy quill ; 
 Yet shall my verse deplore her cruel fate, 
 And celebrate the virtues of my cat. 
 
 In acts obscene she never took delight ; 
 No caterwauls disturb'd our sleep by night ; 
 Chaste as a virgin, free from every stain, 
 And neighb'ring cats mew'd for her love in vain. 
 
 She never thirsted for the chickens' blood ; 
 Her teeth she only used to chew her food ; 
 Harmless as satires which her master writes, 
 A foe to scratching, and unused to bites, 
 She in the study was my constant mate ; 
 There we together many evenings sat. 
 Whene'er I felt my tow'ring fancy fail, 
 I stroked her head, her ears, her back, and tail ; 
 
 • This, savs an original note appended.to the poem, alludes 
 to what passed at a convivial club to which Mr. Green be- 
 longed, where steaks cut from the rump of a dead negro wore 
 imposed on the company for beef, and when the imposition was 
 discovered a violent expectoration ensued, 
 t As Montaigne playing with bis cat, 
 Complains she thought him but an ass. 
 
 Hudibras, pt. t ft i. v. 8S-9. 
 
JOHN CALLENDER. 
 
 123 
 
 And as I stroked improv'd my dying song 
 From the sweet notes of her melodious tongue : 
 Her purrs and mews so evenly kept time, 
 She purr'd in metre, and she mew'd in rhyme. 
 But when my dulness has too stubborn prov'd, 
 Nor could by Puss's music be remov'd, 
 Oft to the well-known volumes have I gone, 
 And stole a line from Pope or Addison. 
 
 Ofttiines when lost amidst poetic heat, 
 She leaping on my knee has took her seat ; 
 There saw the throes that rock'd my lab' ring brain, 
 And lick'd and claw'd me to myself again. 
 
 Then, friends, indulge my grief, and let me mourn, 
 My cat is gone, ah ! never to return. 
 Now in my stud}', all the tedious night, 
 Alone I sit, and unassisted write; 
 Look often round (0 greatest cause of pain), 
 And view the num'rous labors of my brain ; 
 Those quires of words array'd in pompous rhyme, 
 Which braved the jaws of all-devouring time, 
 Now undefended and unwatch'd by cats, 
 Are doom'd a victim to the teeth of rats. 
 
 Green, like Byles, and almost all men of true 
 humor, could pass from gay to grave with grace 
 and feeling. The Eclogue Sacred to the Memory 
 of the Rev. Jonathan Mayhem* which is attri- 
 buted to him, amply meets the requirements of its 
 occasion. It is fully described in the prefatory 
 argument. 
 
 " Fidelio and Duleius, young men of a liberal 
 education, who maintained a great esteem and 
 affectionate regard for the deceased, were sepa- 
 rated from each other for several years. Fidelio, 
 after a long absence, pays an early visit to Du- 
 leius, his friend and former companion, whom he 
 finds in his bower, employed in study and con- 
 templation. Their-meeting begins with mutual 
 tokens of love and affection ; after which they 
 enter into a discourse expressing the beautiful 
 appearance of the summer season, and their ad- 
 miration of the works of Providence ; represent- 
 ing, at the same time, the beautiful but short- 
 lived state of the flowers ; from whence Fidelio 
 takes occasion to draw a similitude typical of the 
 frailty and uncertainty of human life ; he observes 
 the stalk of a vine which has been lately struck 
 by thunder. This providential event reminds 
 Fidelio of the afflictive dispensation of the law of 
 God in the death of a late useful and worthy pas- 
 tor, which he reveals to his companion. They, 
 greatly dejected, bewail the loss of so trusty, use- 
 ful, and worthy a man, but mutually console each 
 other, by representing the consummate happiness 
 which saints enjoy upon their admission to the 
 mansions of immortal felicity. They conclude 
 with an ode, expressing a due submission to the 
 will of Heaven." 
 
 We quote this conclusion. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 Parent of all! thou source of light! 
 Whose will seraphic powers obey, 
 The heavenly Nine, as one unite, 
 And thee their vow'd obeisance pay. 
 
 * An Eclogue Sacred to the Memorv of the- Rev. Dr. .Jona- 
 than Mayhew, who departed this life July 9, auno salutis bu- 
 inaua; 1766, ajtatis 46. 
 
 The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave, 
 Live in their deaths, and flourish in the grave, 
 Grain hid in earth repays the peasant's care, 
 And evening suns but rise to set more fair. 
 Boston : printed by Thomas and John Fleet 
 
 Permit us, Lord, to consecrate 
 Our first ripe fruits of early days, 
 To thee, whose care to us is great, 
 Whose love demands our constant praise. 
 
 Thy sovereign wisdom form'd the plan, 
 Almighty power, which none control ; 
 Then rais'd this noble structure, man, 
 And gave him an immortal souL 
 
 All earthly beings here who move, 
 Experience thy paternal care, 
 And feel the influence of thy love, 
 Which sweetens life from year to year. 
 
 Thou hast the keys of life and death, 
 The springs of future joys and bliss ; 
 And when thou lock'st our door of breath, 
 Frail life and all its motions cease. 
 
 Our morn of years which smile in bloom, 
 And those arriv'd at eve of age, 
 Must bow beneath thy sovereign doom, 
 And quit this frail, this mortal stage. 
 
 In all we see thy sovereign sway, 
 Thy wisdom guides the ruling sun ; 
 Submissive, we thy power obey, 
 In all we own " thy will is done." 
 
 may our thoughts superior rise, 
 To things of sense which here we crave; 
 May we with care that int'rest prize, 
 Which lies so far beyond the grave. 
 
 Conduct us safe through each event, 
 And changing scene of life below; 
 Till we arrive where days are spent 
 In joys which can no changes know. 
 
 Lord, in thy service us employ, 
 
 And when we've served thee here on earth 
 
 Receive us hence to realms of joy, 
 
 To join with those of heavenly birth. 
 
 May we from angels learn to sing, 
 The songs of high seraphic strain ; 
 Then mount aloft on cherubs' wings, 
 And soar to worlds that cease from pain. 
 
 With angels, seraphs, saints above, 
 May we thy glorious praise display 
 And sing of thy redeeming love, 
 Through the revolves of endless day. 
 
 JOHN CALLENDER. 
 John Cai.len'dei;, the first historian of Ehode 
 Island, was born in Boston in the year 1706. He 
 entered Harvard at the age of thirteen, and gra- 
 duated in 1723. In 1727 he was licensed to 
 
 preach by the first Baptist Church in Boston, of 
 which his uncle, Elisha Callender, was pastor, 
 having succeeded Ellis Callender, the grandfather 
 of the subject of this sketch, in the same office. 
 In August, 1728, he accepted a call to the Baptist 
 church in Swansey, Massachusetts, where he re- 
 mained until February, 1730. He was next after 
 settled over the first Baptist church at Newport, 
 where he continued until his death, after a lin- 
 gering illness, January 26, 1748. Soon after his 
 removal to Newport he became a member of a 
 literary and philosophical society established in 
 the place, at the instigation, it is supposed, of 
 Dean Berkeley, in 1730, afterwards incorporated 
 in 1747, with the title, in consequence of the dona- 
 
124 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 tion of five hundred pounds sterling by Abraham 
 Redwood, of " the Company of the Redwood 
 Library." 
 
 In 1739 Mr. Callender published An Histo- 
 rical Discourse on the civil and religious affairs 
 of the Colony of Rhode Island and Providence 
 Plantations, in New England, in America, from 
 the first settlement, 1638, to the end of the first 
 century. It was delivered on the twenty -fourth 
 of March, 1738, the first centennial anniversary 
 of the cession of Aquedneck or Rhode Island by 
 the sachems Cannonicus and Miantunnomu, "unto 
 Mr. Coddington and his friends united unto him."* 
 It occupies one hundred and twenty octavo pages 
 in the reprint by the Rhode Island Historical 
 Society, and contains a concise and temperate 
 statement of the difficulties with the Massachu- 
 setts colonists which led to the formation of the 
 settlement, its early struggles, its part in King 
 Philip's war, and of its social and ecclesiastical 
 affairs. He dwells with just satisfaction on the 
 liberal principles of the colony. 
 
 I do not know there was ever before, since the 
 world came into the Church, such an instance, as 
 the settlement of this Colony and Island. In other 
 States, the civil magistrate had for ever a public 
 driving in the particular schemes of faith, and modes 
 of worship ; at least, by negative discouragements, 
 by annexing the rewards of honor and profit to his 
 own opinions ; and generally, the subject was bound 
 by penal laws, to believe that set of doctrines, and 
 to worship God in that manner, the magistrate 
 pleased to prescribe. Christian magistrates would 
 unaccountably assume to themselves the same autho- 
 rity in religious affairs, which any of the Kings of 
 Judah, or Israel, exercised, either by usurpation, or 
 by the immediate will and inspiration of God, and a 
 great deal more too. As if the becoming Christian 
 gave the magistrate any new right or authority over 
 his subjects, or over the Church of Christ; and as if 
 that because they submitted personally to the autho- 
 rity and government of Christ in Ins word, that 
 therefore they might clothe themselves with his au- 
 thority; or rather, take his sceptre out of his hand, 
 and lord it over God's heritage. It is lamentable 
 that pagans and infidels allow more liberty to Chris- 
 tians, than they were wont to allow to one another. 
 It is evident, the civil magistrate, as such, can have 
 no authority to decree articles of faith, and to deter- 
 mine modes of worship, and to interpret the laws of 
 Christ for his subjects, but what must belong to all 
 magistrates ; but no magistrate can have more autho- 
 rity over conscience, than what is necessary to pre- 
 serve the public peace, and that can be only to pre- 
 vent one sect from oppressing another, and to keep 
 the peace between them. Nothing can be more evi- 
 dently proved, than " the right of private judgment 
 for every man, in the affairs of his own salvation," 
 and that both from the plainest principles of reason, 
 and the plainest declarations of the scripture. This 
 is the foundation of the Reformation, of the Christian 
 religion, of all religion, which necessarily implies 
 choice and judgment. But I need not labor a point, 
 that has been so often demonstrated so many ways. 
 Indeed, as every man believes his own opinions the 
 best, because the truest, and ought charitably to wish 
 all others of the same opinion, it must seem reason- 
 able the magistrate should have a public leading in 
 religious affairs, but as he almost for ever exceeds 
 the due bounds, and as error prevails ten times more 
 
 * Deed of Conveyance. 
 
 than truth in the world, the interest of truth and the 
 
 right of private judgment seem better secured, by a 
 j universal toleration that shall suppress all profane- 
 
 ness and immorality, and preserve every party in the 
 I free and "undisturbed liberty of their consciences, 
 
 while they continue quiet and dutiful subjects to the 
 
 State. 
 
 Callender published a sermon in the same year 
 at the ordination of Mr. Jeremiah Condy, to the 
 i care of the Baptist Church in Boston, in 1741, on 
 the advantages of early religion, before a society 
 of young men at Newport, and in 1745 on the 
 death of his friend the Rev. Mr. Clap. He also 
 formed a collection of papers relative to the his- 
 tory of the Baptists in America. 
 
 Callender was married February 15, 1730, to 
 Elizabeth Hardin of Swnnsey, Massachusetts. He 
 is described as of medium stature, with regular 
 features, a fair complexion, and agreeable man- 
 ners. 
 
 The Centennial Discourse was reprinted in 
 1838, a century after its first publication, by the 
 Rhode Island Historical Society, with a large 
 number of valuable notes by the Vice-President 
 of the association, the Rev. Romeo Elton, D.D., 
 of Brown University. It contains a memoir, 
 which has formed the chief authority of the 
 present article. 
 
 JANE TURELL. 
 Jane, the only daughter of the Rev. Benjamin 
 Colman, of Boston, was born in that city, Febru- 
 ary 25, 1708. She early displayed precocious 
 mental power, as before her second year she 
 could speak distinctly, say her letters, and tell 
 stories out of the Scripturesjfto the satisfaction 
 of Gov. Dudley, and others around the table,* 
 and two years later could repeat the greater part 
 of the Assembly's Catechism, many of the psalms, 
 long passages of poetry, reading with fluency and 
 commenting in a pertinent manner on what she 
 read. At the age of eleven she composed the 
 following 
 
 I fear the great Eternal One above; 
 The God of Grace, the God of love: 
 He to whom Seraphims Hallelujah sing, 
 And Angels do their Songs and Praises bring 
 Happy the Soul that does in Heaven rest, 
 Where witli his Saviour he is ever blest; 
 AVith heavenly joys and rapture is possest, 
 No thoughts but of his God inspire his breast. 
 Happy are they that walk in Wisdom's ways, 
 That tread her path, and shine in all her rays. 
 
 Her poetical attempts were encouraged by her 
 father, who frequently addressed rhymed letters 
 to her, and says : '' I grew by degrees into such 
 an opinion of her good taste, that when she put 
 me upon translating a psalm or two, I was ready 
 to excuse myself, and if I had not fear'd to dis- 
 please her, should have denied her request." He 
 " talked into her all he could, in the most free 
 and endearing manner," and led her to the study 
 of the best models of composition, advantages of 
 which she availed herself with sucli avidity that 
 she spent entire nights in reading, and before the 
 
 * Tin-ell's Memoir. 
 
JANE TURELL. 
 
 125 
 
 age of eighteen had devoured all the English 
 poetry and prose in her father's well furnished 
 library. 
 
 She married the Rev. Ebenezer Turell, of Med- 
 ford, Mass., August 11th, 172(5. She continued 
 to compose in verse, and wrote, after her mar- 
 riage, eulogies on Sir Richard Blackmore's Works, 
 and on " the Incomparable Mr. Waller ;" An 
 Invitation into the Country in Imitation of 
 Horace, and some prose pieces. Her health had 
 been from her infancy extremely delicate, and she 
 died March 26th, 1735, at the early age of twenty- 
 seven years. Her poems were in the same year 
 collected, and published by her husband.* 
 
 AN INVITATION INTO THE COTTNTEY, IN IMITATION OF TIOHACE. 
 
 From the soft shades, and from the balmy sweets 
 Of Medford's flowery vales and green retreats, 
 Your absent Delia to her father sends, 
 And prays to see him ere the Summer ends. 
 
 Now while the earth 's with beauteous verdure 
 dyed, 
 And Flora paints the meads in all her pride ; 
 While laden trees Pomona's bounty own, 
 And Ceres' treasures do the fields adorn, 
 From the thick smokes, and noisy town, O come, 
 And in these plains awhile forget your home. 
 
 Though my small incomes never can afford, 
 Like wealthy Celsus to regale a lord ; 
 No ivory tables groan beneath the weight 
 Of sumptuous dishes, served in massy plate: 
 The forest ne'er was seareh'd for food for me, 
 Nor from my hounds the timorous hare does flee: 
 No leaden thunder strikes the fowl in air, 
 Nor from my shaft the winged death do fear: 
 With silken nets I ne'er the lakes despoil, 
 Nor with my bait the larger fish beguile. 
 No luscious sweetmeats, by my servants plae'd 
 In curious order, e'er my table grac'd; 
 To please the taste, no rich Burgundian wine, 
 In chrystal glasses on my sideboard shine; 
 The luscious sweets of fair Canary's isle 
 Ne'er filled my casks, nor in my flagons smile: 
 No wine, but what does from my apples flow, 
 My frugal house on any can bestow : 
 Except when Caesar's birthday does return, 
 And joyful fires throughout the village burn ; 
 Then moderate each takes his cheerful glass, 
 And our good wishes to Augustus pass. 
 
 But though rich dainties never spread my board, 
 Nor my cool vaults Calabrian wines afford ; 
 Yet what is neat and wholesome I can spread, 
 My good fat bacon and our homely bread, 
 With which my healthful family is fed. 
 Milk from the cow, and butter newly churn'd, 
 And new fresh cheese, with curds aud cream just 
 
 turn'd. 
 For a dessert upon my table 's seen 
 The golden apple, and the melon green; 
 The blushing peach and glo3sy plum there lies. 
 And with the mandrake tempt your hands and eyes. 
 
 These I can give, and if you '11 here repair, 
 To slake your thirst a cask of Autumn beer, 
 Reserv'd on purpose for your drinking here. 
 
 Under the spreading elms our limbs we'll lay, 
 While fragrant Zephyrs round our temples play. 
 Retir'd from courts and crowds, secure we '11 set, 
 
 * Memoir* of the Life find Death of the Pious and Ingenious 
 Mrs. Jane Turell, who expired at Medford, March 26, 1735, 
 -Stat. 27, chiefly collected from her own manuscripts. Boston, 
 N.E.. 1735. 
 
 And freely feed upon our country treat. 
 No noisy faction here shall dare intrude, 
 Or once disturb our peaceful solitude. 
 
 No stately beds my humble roofs adorn 
 Of costly purple, by carved panthers borne ; 
 Nor can I boast Arabia's rich perfumes, 
 Diffusing odors through our stately rooms. 
 i For me no fair Egyptian plies the loom, 
 But my fine linen all is made at home. 
 Though I no down or tapestry can spread, 
 A clean soft pillow shall support your head, 
 Fill'd with the wool from off my tender sheep, 
 On which with ease and safety you may sleep, 
 The nightingale shall lull you to your rest, 
 Aud all be calm aud still as is your breast. 
 
 TO MY MTTSE, DEC. 29, 1725. AGED 17 YEAES. 
 
 Come, Gentle Muse, and once more lend thine Aid; 
 
 O bring thy Succour to a humble Maid ! 
 
 How often dost thou liberally dispense 
 
 To our dull Breast thy quickming Influence ! 
 
 By thee inspir'd, I'll cheerful tune my Voice, 
 
 And Love and sacred Friendship make my Choice. 
 
 In my pleas'd Bosom you can freely pour, 
 
 A greater Treasure than Jove's Golden Shower. 
 
 Come now, fair Muse, and fill my empty mind, 
 
 With rich Ideas, gre:it and unconfin'd; 
 
 Instruct me in those secret Arts that lie 
 
 Unseen to all but to a Poet's Eye. 
 
 let me burn with Sappho's noble Fire, 
 
 But not like her for faithless man expire ; 
 
 And let me rival great Orinda's Fame, 
 
 Or like sweet Philomela's be my name. 
 
 Go lead the way, my Muse, nor must you stop, 
 
 'Till we have gain'd Parnassus' shady Top; 
 
 'Till I have viewed those fragrant soft Retreats, 
 
 Those fields of Bliss, the Muse's saered Seats. 
 
 I'll then devote thee to fair Virtue's Fame, 
 
 And so be worthy of a Poet's name. 
 
 The Rev. Ebenezer Turell, a member of the 
 class of 1721, of Harvard, was ordained in 1724, 
 and continued minister of Medford until his death, 
 December 5, 1778, at the age of seventy-six. Ho 
 published the life of Dr. Colman in 1749, and 
 left, in manuscript, an account of a supposed case 
 of witchcraft, which he exposes in an ingenious 
 and sensible manner. This he accompanies with 
 some advice touching superstitious practices in 
 vogue, in which he says : 
 
 Young people would do wisely now to lay aside 
 their foolish books, their trifling ballads, and all 
 romantic accounts of dreams and trances, senseless 
 palmistry and groundless astrology. Don't so much 
 as look into these tilings. Read those that are use- 
 ful to increase you in knowledge, human and divine, 
 and which are more entertaining to an ingenious 
 mind. Truth is the food of an immortal souL Feed 
 not any longer on the fabulous husks of falsehood. 
 Never use any of the devil's playthings; there aro 
 much better recreations than legerdemain tricks. 
 Turn not the sieve, &c, to know futurities ; 'tis one 
 of the greatest mercies of heaven that we are igno- 
 rant of them. You only gratify Satan, and invite 
 him into your company to deceive you. Nothing 
 that appears by this means is to be depended on. 
 
 The horse-shoe is a vain thing, and has no natural 
 tendency to keep off witches or evil spirits from tho 
 houses or vessels they are nailed to. If Satan should 
 by such means defend you from lesser dangers, 'tis 
 to make way for greater ones, and get fuller pos- 
 session of your hearts. 'Tis an evil thing to hang 
 witch papers on the neck for the cure of the agues, 
 to biud up the weapon instead of the wound, and 
 
126 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 many things of the like nature, whi^h some in the 
 world are fond of. 
 
 JOHN SECCOMB. 
 John Seccomb, a descendant of Richard Sec- 
 comb, who settled in the town of Lynn, was a son 
 of Peter Seccomb, of Medford, Mass., where he 
 was born in April, 1708. He was graduated at 
 Harvard College, in 1728. In 1733 he was 
 ordained minister of the town of Harvard. He 
 appears to have discharged the duties of his 
 office acceptably up to the period of his resigna- 
 tion in 1757. He became, about six years after, 
 the minister of a dissenting congregation in Ches- 
 ter, Nova Scotia, where he remained until his 
 death in 1792. 
 
 He published an Ordination Sermon in Nova 
 Scotia, and a Discourse on the Funeral of the 
 Consort of Jonathan Belcher.* Father Abbey's 
 Will was sent out to England by Governor Bel- 
 cher, and published both in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine and European Magazines in May, 1732. It 
 was reprinted in the Massachusetts Magazine for 
 November, 1794, with a notice attributing the 
 authorship to John Seccomb. A correspondent 
 having disputed the statement, and asserted that 
 the production belonged to the Rev. Joseph Sec- 
 comb, of Kingston, N. H., the editor of the Maga- 
 zine wrote as follows. 
 
 From Thaddeus Mason, Esq., of Cambridge, the 
 only surviving classmate and very intimate friend of 
 the Rev. John Seccombe, the public may be assured 
 the he, the long reputed, was the real author. His 
 brother Joseph, though a lively genius, never pre- 
 tended to write poetry ; but Mr. Mason was fur- 
 nished with several poetical effusions of his class- 
 mate's. They commenced an early correspondence. 
 And through this channel flowed many a tuneful 
 ditty. One of these letters, dated " Cambridge, 
 Sep. 27, 1728," the editor has before him. It is a 
 most humorous narrative of the fate of a goose 
 roasted at " Yankee Hastings," and it concludes with 
 a poem on the occasion, in the mock heroic. # * si- 
 Mr. Mason wonders there have been any doubts re- 
 specting the real author of this witty production. 
 He is able and ready, were it necessary, to give 
 more circumstantial, explicit, and positive evidence 
 than the present writing. 
 
 The editor of a recent reprint of Father 
 Abbey's Will, though unable to trace the " mock 
 heroic," gives us a pleasant account of the pos- 
 sible previous history of its savory subject. 
 
 We know not what has become of the letter or of 
 the " mock heroic," and we cannot speak with cer- 
 tainty of the circumstances to which they owed 
 their origin. But the following facts may shed 
 some light thereon. The author resided in Cam- 
 bridge after he graduated. In common with all 
 who had received the degree of Bachelor of Arts, 
 and not that of Master of Arts, he was called " Sir," 
 and known as " Sir Seccomb." In the autumn after 
 
 * A Sermon preached at Halifax, July 8, 17T0, at the Ovdina- 
 tioD of the Rev. Bruin Romcas Comingoe, to the Dutch Cal- 
 vinistic Presbyterian Congregation, at Lunenburg, by John 
 Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., being the first preached in the 
 province of Nova Scotia, on 6uch an occasion, to which is 
 added an Appendix. Halifax : A. Henry. 1770. A Sermon 
 occasioned by the Death of the Honorable Abigail Belcher, 
 late consort of Jonathan Belcher, Esq., late Lt. Gov. and 
 Com. in Chief, and His Majesty's present Ch. J. of his pro- 
 vince of Nova Scotia, del. at Halifax, in thosaid province, Oct. 
 20, 1771, by John Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., with an Epistle 
 by Mather" Byles, D.D. Boston : T. & J. Fleet 
 
 his graduation, several geese disappeared at different, 
 times from Cambridge Common. The loss occasioned 
 great discomfort to the owner. Some of the " Sirs," 
 as well as undergraduates were arraigned before 
 the college government. At length several of them 
 were fined seven shillings apiece for being privy to 
 and taking the " third" goose, and one of them was 
 fined three shillings more for " lying" about it. On 
 the morning of Nov. 28, 1728, the sentence was an- 
 nounced. This was done in the college hall, after 
 the reading and before the prayer, and a suitable 
 amount of admonition was given against the im- 
 moralities condemned. The rogues were required to 
 indemnify the owner, and the one who first proposed 
 to steal the first goose, and being concerned in steal- 
 ing and eating the "three .geese taken on the Com- 
 mon," was sent from college. How much this had to 
 do with the inspiration of the letter and the " mock 
 heroic" is not known ; but the writer was a " Sir," and 
 without doubt was well acquainted with the facts 
 in the case. 
 
 Father Abbey was Matthew Abdy. He was 
 born about 1650, the son of a fisherman who 
 lived about Boston harbor, and, according to the 
 record in President Leverett's Diary, was "ap- 
 pointed sweeper and bed-maker upon probation," 
 Feb. 19, 1718. By another College authority 
 we find that he also held the responsible office of 
 bottle-washer, as Tutor Flint in his private Diary 
 and Account-book, writes : 
 
 May 25, 1725, Paid Abdy 3sh., for washing a 
 groce of Bottles. 
 
 A second entry on the subject suggests some 
 doubts of his faithfulness : 
 
 April 10th, 1727. Abdy washed 10 doz. and 5 
 bottles as he says, tho' w'n he brought them up 
 he reckoned but 9 doz. and 1, at 4d. pd down. 
 Total, 3sh. 8d. 
 
 In the third and last, there is no question 
 raised : 
 
 April 27, 1730. Paid Abdy 4sh., for washing 
 a groce of bottles. 
 
 Abdy, and his wife Ruth, were baptized and 
 admitted to church membership in Cambridge, 
 February 25, 1727-8. Ruth, after the death of 
 Matthew, remained a widow, unmoved by the 
 passionate strains of Seccomb's second poem. 
 The Boston Evening Post of Monday, December 
 13, 1762, contains her obituary. 
 
 Cambridge, Dec. 10. Yesterday died here in a 
 very advanced age Mrs. Abdy, Sweeper for very 
 many years at Harvard College, and well known to 
 all that have had an education here within the 
 present century. She was relict of Matthew Abdy, 
 Sweeper, well known to the learned world by his 
 last Will and Testament. 
 
 The Cambridge City Records give her age as 93. 
 Father Abbey's Will and the Letter to his 
 Widow have been published in a single sheet 
 broadside, and have been recently reprinted with 
 notice of all the persons and places concerned in 
 the matters which partake largely of the wit 
 of their subject, by John Langdon Sibley, of 
 Harvard, in the Cambridge Chronicle of 1854. 
 
 FATHEB ABBEY'S WTLL' 
 
 To which is now added, a letter of Courtship to his virtuous 
 and amiable Widow. 
 
 Cambridge, December, 1730. 
 Some time since died here, Mr. Matthew Abbey, 
 in a very advanced age : He had for a great number 
 
JOHN SECCOMB. 
 
 127 
 
 of years served the College in quality of Bedmaker 
 and Sweeper : Having no child, his wife inherits his 
 whole estate, which he bequeathed to her by his last 
 will and testament, as follows, viz. : 
 
 r rO my dear wife 
 
 J. My joy and life, 
 
 I freely now do give her, 
 
 My whole estate, 
 
 With all my plate, 
 Being just about to leave her. 
 
 My tub of soap, 
 
 A long cart rope, 
 A frying pan and kettle, 
 
 An ashes pale, 
 
 A threshing flail, 
 An iron wedge and beetle. 
 
 Two painted chairs, 
 
 Nine warden pears, 
 A large old dripping platter, 
 
 This bed of hay, 
 
 On which I lay, 
 An old saucepan for butter. 
 
 A little mug, 
 
 A two quart jug, 
 A bottle full of brandy, 
 
 A lpoking glass 
 
 To see your face, 
 You'll find it very handy. 
 
 A musket true, 
 
 As ever flew, 
 A pound of shot and wallet, 
 
 A leather sash, 
 
 My calabash, 
 My powder horn and bullet. 
 
 An old sword blade, 
 
 A garden spade, 
 A hoe, a rake, a ladder, 
 
 A wooden can, 
 
 A close-stool pan, 
 A clyster-pipe and bladder. 
 
 A greasy hat, 
 
 My old ram cat, 
 A yard and half of linen, 
 
 A woollen fleece, 
 
 A pot of grease, 
 In order for your spinning. 
 
 A small tooth comb, 
 
 An ashen broom, 
 A candlestick and hatchet, 
 
 A coverlid, 
 
 Strip'd down with red, 
 A bag of rags to patch it. 
 
 A ragged mat, 
 
 A tub of fat, 
 A book put out by Bunyan, 
 
 Another book 
 
 By Robin Cook, 
 A skein or two of spunyarn. 
 
 An old black muff, 
 
 Some garden stuff, 
 A quantity of borage, 
 
 Some devil's weed, 
 
 And burdock seed, 
 To season well your porridge. 
 
 A chafing dish, 
 "With one salt fish, 
 If I am not mistaken, 
 
 A leg of pork, 
 A broken fork, 
 And half a flitch of bacon. 
 
 A spinning wheel, 
 
 One peck of meal, 
 A knife without a handle, 
 
 A rusty lamp, 
 
 Two quarts of samp, 
 And half a tallow candle. 
 
 My pouch and pipes, 
 
 Two oxen tripes, 
 An oaken dish well carved, 
 
 My little dog, 
 
 And spotted hog, 
 With two young pigs just starved. 
 
 This is my store, 
 
 I have no more, 
 I heartily do give it, 
 
 My years are spun, 
 
 My days are done, 
 And so I think to leave it. 
 
 Thus father Abbey left his Bpouse, 
 As rich as church or college mouse, 
 Which is sufficient invitation, 
 To serve the college in his station. 
 
 Newhaven, January 2, 1731. 
 Our sweeper having lately buried his spouse, 
 and accidentally hearing of the death and will of his 
 deceased Cambridge brother, has conceived a violent 
 passion for the relict. As love softens the mind and 
 disposes to poetry, he has eas'd himself in the 
 following strains, which he transmits to the charm- 
 ing widow, as the first essay of his love and court- 
 ship. 
 
 MISTRESS Abbey 
 To you I fly, 
 You only can relieve me, 
 To you I turn, 
 For you I burn, 
 If you will but believe me. 
 
 Then gentle dame, 
 
 Admit my flame, 
 And grant me my petition, 
 
 If you deny, 
 
 Alas ! I die, 
 In pitiful condition. 
 
 Before the news 
 
 Of your dear spouse 
 Had reach'd us at Newhaven, 
 
 My dear wife dy'd, 
 
 Who was my bride, 
 In anno eighty-seven. 
 
 Thus being free, 
 
 Let's both agree 
 To join our hands, for I do 
 
 Boldly aver 
 
 A widower 
 Is fittest for a widow. 
 
 You may be sure 
 
 Tis not your dow'r 
 I make this flowing verse on ; 
 
 In these smooth lays 
 
 I only praise 
 The glories of your person. 
 
 For the whole that 
 
 Was left by Mat. 
 
 Fortune to me has granted 
 
128 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In equal store, 
 I've one thing more 
 Which Matthew long had wanted. 
 
 No teeth, 'tis true 
 
 You have to shew, 
 The young think teeth inviting. 
 
 But, silly youths ! 
 
 I love those mouths 
 "Where there's no fear of bitirg. 
 
 A leaky eye, 
 
 That's never dry, 
 These woful times is fitting. 
 
 A wrinkled face 
 
 Adds solemn grace 
 To folks devout at meeting. 
 
 [A furrowed brow, 
 
 Where corn might grow, 
 Such fertile soil is seen in't, 
 
 A long hook nose, 
 
 Tho' scorn'd by foes, 
 For spectacles convenient,]* 
 
 Thus to go on 
 
 I would put down 
 Your chai ms from head to foot, 
 
 Set all your glory 
 
 In verse before ye, 
 But I've no mind to do't. 
 
 Then haste away, 
 
 And make no stay ; 
 For soon as you come hither, 
 
 We'll eat and sleep, 
 
 Make beds and sweep 
 And talk and smoke together. 
 
 But if, my dear, 
 
 I must move there, 
 Tov/rds Cambridge straight I'll eet mo 
 
 To touse the hay 
 
 On which you lay, 
 If age aud you will let me. 
 
 A clever imitation of Father Abbey's Will, 
 entitled " Ned Wealthy's Last Will and Testa- 
 ment," appears in the London Magazine fpr 
 August, 1734. It copies the incongruous asso- 
 ciations with some coarse additions, but must 
 yield in humor to the original. 
 
 Since all men must 
 
 Return to dust, 
 From which they first did spring : 
 
 I give my gear, 
 
 From debts quite clear 
 In mariner following. 
 
 But lest hot broils, 
 
 And endless toils, 
 'Bout my effects arise ; 
 
 Half to my Sue, 
 
 Half to my Prue, 
 I frankly here devise. 
 
 Mv thrice sol'd shoes, 
 
 My Sunday hose, 
 A jacket made of leather ; 
 
 An old straw bed , 
 
 That serv'd poor Ned. 
 In boisterous stormy weather, &c. 
 
 * "W*e think this stanza may be an interpolation. It is 
 fmnd in the London Magazine; but not in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine or on tho Broadside." 
 
 JOHN BETEEIDGE. 
 
 John Beveeidge, the author of a volume of Latin 
 verses, was a native of Scotland, where he com- 
 menced las career as a schoolmaster in Edinburgh. 
 One of his pupils was the blind poet Blacklock, to 
 whom he afterwards addressed some English 
 lines, in which he gives the motives which in- 
 duced him to attempt poetry, with a Latin trans- 
 lation of his friend's version of the 101th Psalm. 
 
 In 1752 he removed to New England, where he 
 remained five years, and became intimate with 
 Dr. Mayhew and other leading men of that city. 
 In 1758 he was appointed Professor of Languages 
 in the college and academy of Philadelphia. 
 Alexander Graydon,* who was one of his pupils, 
 says "he retained the smack of his vernacular 
 tongue in its primitive purity," and has preserved 
 the memory, in his Memoirs, of some schoolboy 
 anecdotes which show that he was a poor disci- 
 plinarian. One of the larger boys once pulled off 
 his wig under pretence of brushing off a fly from 
 it, and a still greater liberty was indulged in one 
 afternoon, by suddenly closing the door and win- 
 dows and pelting the master with dictionaries. 
 "This most intolerable outrage," says Graydon, 
 " had a run of several days, and was only put a 
 stop to by the vigorous interference of the faculty." 
 Beveridge, " diminutive in his stature, and neither 
 young nor vigorous," being unable to 'administer 
 corporal punishment efficient^', " after exhausting 
 himself in the vain attempt to denude the delin- 
 quent, was generally glad to compound for a 
 few strokes over his clothes, on any part that was 
 accessible." 
 
 Beveridge pnbli>hed, in 1765, a collection of 
 Latin poems, Epistoloa Familiares et alia qvcedam 
 miscellanea.^ The book is dedicated in Latin to 
 the provincial dignitaries, Penn, Allan, Hamilton, 
 Smith, and Alison. Next follow lines by A. 
 Alexander,! " On Mr. Beveridge's Poetical Per- 
 formances" — a few of which we quote. 
 
 * Graydon's Memoiis, 35. Graydon also went to school to 
 another writer of some note in his day, David James Dove. 
 Dove sadly belied his name, his chief reputation being that of 
 a savage satirist. Hewashornin England, and it is said figures 
 in a book mentioned in Eoswell's Johnson, "The Life and Ad- 
 ventures of the Chevalier Taylor. 1 ' Dove was English teacher 
 in the Philadelphia Academy, but; quarrelling with the trustees, 
 took charge of the Germantown Academy on its organization 
 in 1762. He soon got into a quarrel here also, and started an 
 opposition school in a house which he built on an adjoining 
 lot. The enterprise shortly fell through. 
 
 Dove applied his humor to the management of his school as 
 well as to the composition of his satires. "His birch," says 
 Graydon, " was rarely used in canonical method, but was gene- 
 rally stuck into the back part of the collar of the unfortunate 
 culprit, who, with this badge of disgrace towering from his nape 
 like a broom at the mast-head of a vessel for sale, was com- 
 pelled to take his stand upon the top of the form, for such a 
 period of time as his offence was thought to deserve." Boys 
 who were late in appearing in the morning were waited upon 
 by a deputation of scholars and escorted with bell and lighted 
 lantern through the streets to school. He was once late himself, 
 and submitted with a good grace to the same attentions, which 
 his pupils did not lose an opportunity of bestowing. 
 
 Dove's satires have passed away with the incidents and per- 
 sonages which gave them birth. They appeared in the peri- 
 odicals of the day. 
 
 + Epistolae Familiares et Alia qujednm miscellanea. Familiar 
 Epistles, and other Miscellaneous Pieces — wrote originally in 
 Latin verse. By John Beveridge, A.M., Professor of Langua- 
 ges in the Academy of Philadelphia. To which are added 
 several translations into English verse, by different Hands, &c. 
 Philadelphia, printed for the Author by William Bradford, 
 1765, 88 8vo. pages, 16 of which are closely printed. 
 
 t Alexander, a fine classical scholar, was appointed a tutor in 
 the college after he was graduated, but, becoming involved in 
 pecuniary embarrassments, quitted the city soon after entering 
 upon his duties.— Fisher's Early Poets of Pa. 
 
JOHN BEViiRIDGK 
 
 129 
 
 If music sweet -delight your ravish'd ear, 
 
 No music's sweeter than the numbers here. 
 
 In former times fam'd Maro smoothly sung, 
 
 But still he warbled in his native tongue ; 
 
 His tow'ring thoughts and soft enchanting lays 
 
 Long since have crown'd him with immortal bays; 
 
 But ne'er did Maro such high glory seek 
 
 As to excel Mseonides in Greek. 
 
 Here you may view a bard of modern time, 
 
 Who claims fair Scotland as his native clime, 
 
 Contend with Flaccus on the Eoman Lyre, 
 
 His humour catch and glow with kindred fire. 
 
 When some gay rural landscape proves his theme, 
 
 Some sweet retirement or some silver stream; 
 
 Nature's unfolded in his melting song, 
 
 The brooks in softer murmurs glide along, 
 
 The gales blow gentler thro' the nestling trees, 
 
 More aromatic fragrance fills the breeze: 
 
 Tiber, the theme of many a bard's essay, 
 
 Is sweetly rival'd here in Casco Bay. 
 
 The epistlea are forty-six in number, two of 
 ■which are in English. The forty-third is ad- 
 dressed, " Ad praicellentiss. Tho. Penn. Pennsyl- 
 vania Proprietarium, seu (Latine) Dominum." Of 
 the two in English the second is addressed to 
 Thomas Blacklock, " the celebrated blind poet, 
 who was taught his Latin by the author," as he 
 informs us in a note. The first is so pleasantly 
 written that it will bear quotation in part. 
 
 TO ********. 
 
 Dear Sir, methinks I see you smile, 
 To find the muse does you beguile, 
 Stealing upon you by a wile. 
 
 And in a dress unusual ; 
 Know then she's fond, in her new cloth, 
 To visit you and madam both : 
 Then treat her kindly, she is loath 
 
 To meet with a refusal. 
 
 In the enjoyment of your wife, 
 She wishes long and happy life, 
 Secure from trouble, care, and strife, 
 
 And then a generation 
 Of boys and girls ; a hopeful race, 
 Their aged parents' crown and grace; 
 Skilful in war, and when 'tis peace 
 
 The glory of their n^ion. 
 
 May never want your steps pursue, 
 Nor watchful care contract your brow : 
 The horn of plenty be your due. 
 
 With health and skill to use it. 
 No narrow views debase your soul ; 
 May you ne'er want a cheerful bowl, 
 To treat a friend, and cares controul; 
 
 But yet do not abuse it. 
 
 Improve the days that are serene ; 
 Make hay while yet the sun doth shine, 
 Twill not avail you to repine ; 
 
 Take care lest here you blunder. 
 You can't recall the by-past hours, 
 The present time is only yours; 
 The warmest day brings quickest show'rs, 
 
 And often, too, with thunder. 
 
 And storms will happen ; when 'tis so, 
 Low'r down the sails and let 'em blow : 
 Or guard yourself at least from woe, 
 
 By yielding to the billows. 
 Tempests will rend the stubborn oak, 
 The tallest pines are soonest broke, 
 And yield beneath the furious stroke 
 
 Which never hurts the willows. 
 vol. r. — 9 
 
 Tho' sometimes they may make you smart, 
 Take curtain lectures in good part ; 
 I think philosopher thou art, 
 
 And know'st how to improve them. 
 The doctor's pills, altho' they're bitter, 
 And maj 7 at present raise a spl — r, 
 Yet as they tend the health to better, 
 
 We take, but do not love them. 
 
 Now to your fair I this would say : 
 As 's heart you stole away, — 
 
 " Stole! No, dear Sir, he gave it." 
 — Weil, giv'n or stol'n I'll not contend, 
 And here will let that matter end; 
 
 But next contrive to save it. 
 
 I mean to save it for yourself, 
 Or else the cunning, wayward elf, 
 
 Perchance may sometimes wander. 
 Unjustly all our nymphs complain 
 Their empire holds too short a reign, 
 
 Yet do not at this wonder. 
 
 If you your empire would maintain, 
 Use the same arts that did it gain, 
 
 Success will never fail you. 
 At ev'ry trifle scorn offence, 
 Which shows great pride or little sense, * 
 
 And never will avail you. 
 
 Shun av'rice, vanity, and pride ; 
 High titles, empty toys deride, 
 
 Tho' glitt'ring in the fashions. 
 You're wealthy if you are content, 
 For pow'r, its amplest best extent, 
 
 Is empire o'er the passions, 
 
 'Tis not on madam's heavenly face, 
 His ever constant love he'll place ; 
 
 Oidy consult your glasses : 
 For beauty, like the new blown flow'r, 
 Lives but the glory of an hour, 
 
 And then forever passes. 
 
 The graces of your mind display, 
 When transient beauties fly away, 
 
 Than empty phantoms fleeter* 
 Then as the hours of life decline, 
 You like the setting sun shall shine, 
 
 With milder raj's and sweeter. 
 
 The translations are thus apologetically intro- 
 duced : " The Editor begs a little indulgence for 
 them, as they are all (except Dr. Mayhew's and 
 Mr. Morton's,) done by students under age ; and 
 if the Critic will only bear with them, till their 
 understandings are mature, I apprehend they are 
 in a fair way of doing better." Several are by 
 
 Thomas Coombe, A. Alexander, A. B., and T 
 
 II , student in philosophy; W J ■, N/. 
 
 Evans, A. M., and Stephen Watts,* contribute one 
 or two each. Maybe w furnishes two, the first of 
 which trips oft' pleasantly : 
 
 Dear Thomas, of congenial soul, 
 My first acquaintance in the school ; 
 With whom I oft have worn away, 
 In mirthful jests the loit'riug day. 
 Treading the dialectic road 
 Of major, minor, figure, mood. 
 
 * Watts published, at an early age, an " Essay on the Advan- 
 tages of a Perpetual Union between Great Britain and her 
 Colonies," which was received with great favor. He after- 
 wards removed to Louisiana, where he married a daughter of 
 the Spanish Governor. — Fither's Early Poets of Pa, 
 
130 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 THOMAS COOMBK. 
 Thomas Coombe, who first appears in our litera- 
 ture as a translator of some of his teacher Beve- 
 ridge's Latin poems, was a native of Philadelphia, 
 and after concluding his course at the College, 
 studied theology, and visiting England to take 
 orders, was on his return appointed an assistant 
 minister of Christ Church. He sided with the 
 liberal part} - at the outbreak of the Revolution, 
 but disapproving of the separation from England, 
 joined after that event the tory party. He was, 
 in 1777, banished with others, by the legislature, 
 to Staunton, Virginia, but was allowed on the 
 score of sickness to remain. He soon after went 
 to England. The Earl of Carlisle made him his 
 chaplain, and he finally became a Prebendary of 
 Canterbury, and one of the royal chaplains.* 
 In 1775, he published in London a short narrative 
 poem. The Peasant of Auburn, or the Emigrant.^ 
 accompanied by a few smaller pieces. The tract 
 is dedicated to Goldsmith, and seems designed as 
 a continuation of the Deserted Village. It pre- 
 sents a lugubrious picture of the fortunes of an 
 emigrant. We quote a few of its closing pages. 
 Edwin, a wanderer on the banks of the Ohio, 
 relates his mournful experiences. 
 
 Much had I heard from men uiras'd to feign, 
 Of this New World, and freedom's gentle reign. 
 'Twas fam'd that here, by no proud master spurn'd ; 
 The poor man ate secure the bread he earned ; 
 That verdant vales were fed by brighter streams 
 Than my own Medway, or the silver Thames: 
 Fields without bounds, spontaneous fruitage bore, 
 And peace and virtue bless'd the favord shore. 
 Such were the hopes which once beguil'd my care 
 Hopes form'd in dreams, and baseless as the air. 
 
 Is this, dire reverse, is this the land, 
 Where nature sway'd, and peaceful worthies plann'd? 
 Where injured freedom, through the world impell'd, 
 Her hallow'd seat, her last asylum held ! 
 Ye glittering towns that crown th' Atlantic deep, 
 Witness the change, and as ye witness weep. 
 Mourn all ye streams, and all ye fields deplore, 
 Your slaughter' d sons, your verdure stain'd with 
 
 gore. 
 Time was, blest time, to weeping thousands dear, 
 When all that poets picture flourished here. 
 Then War was not, Religion smil'd and spread, 
 Arts, Manners, Learning, rear'd their polish'd head ; 
 Commerce, her sails to every breeze unfurl'd, 
 Pour'd on these coasts the treasures of the world. 
 Past are those halcyon days. The very land 
 Droops a weak mourner, wither'd and unmann'd. 
 Brothers 'gainst brothers rise in vengeful strife ; . 
 The parent's weapon drinks the children's life, 
 Sons, leagued witB foes, unsheath their impious 
 
 sword, 
 And gore the nurturing breast they had ador'd. 
 
 How vain my search to find some lowlv bower, 
 Far from those scenes of death, this rage for power ; 
 Some quiet spot, conceal'd from every eye, 
 In which to pause from woe, and calmly die. 
 No such retreat the boundless shades embrace, 
 But man with beast divides the bloody chase. 
 What tho' some cottage rise amid the gloom, 
 In vain its pastures spring, its orchards bloom ; 
 
 * Fisher's Early Poets of Pa. 98. 
 
 t The Peasant of Auburn, or the Emigrant. A Poem. By 
 T. Coombe, D-D. " The short and simple annals of the Poor," 
 Gray. PhiL Enoch Story. Jnn. (no date.) Coombe was 
 evidently, from some lines in his poem, a reader of Collins's 
 Eclogues as well as of Goldsmith. 
 
 Far, far away the wretched owners roam. 
 Exiles like me, the world their only home. 
 
 Here as I trace my melancholy way, 
 
 The prowling Indian snuffs his wonted prey, 
 
 Ha! should I meet him in his dusky round — 
 
 Late in these woods I heard his murderous sound — 
 
 Still the deep war hoop vibrates on mine ear, 
 
 And still I hear his tread, or seem to hear — 
 
 Hark! the leaves rustle ! what a shriek was there! 
 
 "Tishe! tishe! his, triumphs rend the air. 
 
 Hold, coward heart, I'll answer to the yell, 
 
 And chase the murderer to his gory celL 
 
 Savage ! — but oh ! I rave — o'er yonder wild, 
 
 E'en at this hour he drives my only child ; 
 
 She, the dear source and soother of my pain, 
 
 My tender daughter, drags the captive chain. 
 
 Ah my poor Lucy ! in whose face, whose breast, 
 My long-lost limma liv'd again contest, 
 Thus robb'd of thee, and every comfort fled, 
 Soon shall the turf infold this weary head ; • 
 
 Soon shall my spirit reach that peaceful shore, 
 Where bleeding friends unite, to part no more. 
 When shall I cease to rue the fatal morn 
 When first from Auburn's vale I roam'd forlorn. 
 
 He spake — and frantic with the sad review 
 Prone on the shore his tottering limbs he threw. 
 Life's crimson strings were bursting round his heart, 
 And his torn soul was throbbing to depart ; 
 No pitying friend, no meek-ey'd stranger near, 
 To tend his throes, or calm them with a tear. 
 Angels of grace, your golden pinions spread, 
 Temper the winds, and shield his houseless head. 
 Let no rude sounds disturb life's awful close, 
 And guard his relics from inhuman foes. 
 O haste and waft liim to those radiant plains, 
 Where fiends torment no more, and love eternal 
 reigns. 
 
 THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 
 
 Thomas HuTcncreox, the celebrated Governor 
 of Massachusetts at the outset of the revolution, 
 was a descendant of Ann Hutchinson, and a son 
 of Colonel Thomas Hutchinson, a leading mer- 
 chant and member of the council of the colony. 
 He was born in 1711, and was graduated at Har- 
 vard in 17*27. He commenced his career as a 
 merchant, but failing in that pursuit studied law. 
 
 tf?^ 
 
 Ho was chosen a selectman of Boston in 1738, 
 and appointed the agent of the town to visit Lon- 
 don in the discharge of important business, a duty 
 which he performed with great success. After 
 bis return, he was for ten years a member, and for 
 three the speaker of the colonial House of Repre- 
 sentatives, where he obtained a great reputation 
 as a debater and efficient presiding officer. He 
 was a member of the council from 1749 to 1766, 
 and lieutenant-governor from 1758 to 1771. He 
 was also appointed a judge of probate in 1752,. 
 and chief-justice in 1760. During the agitation 
 which followed the passage of the Stamp-Act, in 
 consequence of a report that he had expressed an 
 opinion in favor of that unpopular measure, his 
 house was twice attacked by a mob. On the 
 first occasion the windows were broken, and a 
 few evenings after, on the 26th of August, the 
 
EARLY CAROLINA LITERATURE. 
 
 131 
 
 doors forced open, the furniture and -woodwork 
 destroyed, and the house remained in possession 
 of the rioters until morning. A great number of 
 public and private documents were also destroyed. 
 The town passed resolutions condemnatory of the 
 act, and some six or eight persons were impri- 
 soned, who were speedily set at liberty by a com- 
 pany, who, by threatening the.juilor, obtained the 
 keys. Hutchinson was indemnified for his losses 
 by a public grant. 
 
 A new subject of controversy arose in 1767 in 
 consequence of his taking a seat in the council in 
 virtue of his office as lieutenant-governor. He 
 abandoned his claim to a seat, and was a few 
 days after appointed one of the commissioners for 
 settling the boundary line with New York, a duty 
 which he discharged greatly to the advantage of 
 the colony. 
 
 On the departure of Governor Bernard, in 1760, 
 the whole duties of the office fell upon his lieu- 
 tenant. Fresh difficulties arose, and he had for- 
 warded a request to England to be discharged 
 from office, when he received the announcement 
 of his appointment as governor. He accepted the 
 office. He continued to increase in unpopularity 
 with the council and people in consequence of the 
 publication of the letters written by him to Eng- 
 land, which were discovered and sent back by 
 Franklin. The council and house voted an ad- 
 dress for his removal, but his conduct was ap- 
 proved by the king. 
 
 He was, however, removed after the destruc- 
 tion of the tea in Boston harbor, and General 
 Gage appointed in his place. Although notified 
 by Gage on his arrival, May 13, that the king in- 
 tended to reinstate him as soon as Gage's military 
 duties called him elsewhere, he sailed for England 
 on the first of June following. He received a 
 pension from the English government, which was 
 inadequate to the liberal support of his family, and 
 after, according to the account of John Adams, 
 " being laughed at by the courtiers for his man- 
 ners at the levee, searching his pockets for letters 
 to read to the king, and the king's turning away 
 from him with his nose up," lived in retirement 
 at Brompton, where he died, June 3, 1780. 
 
 Hutchinson was the author of a History of the 
 Colon ij of Massachusetts Bay, from its First Set- 
 tlement in 1628 to the year 1750, in two volumes, 
 the first of which was published in 1760, and the 
 second in 1767. A third, bringing the narrative 
 down to 1774, was published from a manuscript 
 left behind him after his decease, by his grandson 
 the Rev. John Hutchinson, of Trentham, England, 
 in 1828. He also published various pamphlets, 
 and a volume of documents relative to the history 
 of the colonv in 1769. 
 
 EARLY CAROLINA LITERATURE. 
 There were comparatively few early produc- 
 tions of the historic class in the Carolina-^. The 
 population was scant; the wonder of the early 
 settlements had abated, and the settlers were not 
 a writing people. Several historic tracts may be 
 mentioned. 
 
 T. A., Gent. (Thomas Ashe), clerk on board his 
 Majesty's ship the Richmond, sent out in 1680, 
 published on his return in 1682, Carolina; or a 
 Description of the Present state of that country, 
 
 and the natural excellencies therof ; namely, the 
 Healthfullness of the Air, Pleasantness of the 
 Place, Advantages and Usefulness of those rich 
 Commodities there plentifully abounding, which 
 much encrease and flourish by the industry of the 
 planters that daily enlarge that colony. It forms 
 twenty-six octavo pages in the reprint in Carroll's 
 Collections.* 
 
 John Archdale, late Governor of the province, 
 printed at London in 1707, A new descriptionof 
 that fertile and pleasant Province of Carolina; 
 with a brief account of its discovery and settling, 
 and the government thereof to this time. With 
 several remarkable passages of Divine Providence 
 during my time. It forms thirty-six pages of 
 Carroll's Collection, and is chiefly occupied with 
 the discussions arising under his administration.t 
 In 1708, John Stevens published in his new col- 
 lection of voyages and travels, a New Voyage to 
 Carolina, with a journal of a Thousand Miles 
 Travelled through several nations of Indians, by 
 John Lawson, Surveyor General of North Caro- 
 lina. It was published in a separate form in 
 1709.J Lawson was captured while exploring 
 lands in North Carolina, and sacrificed by the In- 
 dians in the war of 1712.§ 
 
 The earliest literature in South Carolina was 
 scientific, medical, and theological, and came from 
 intelligent foreigners who took up their residence 
 in the country. The education of the sons of the 
 wealthy classes was carried on in Europe, and 
 continued to be through the Colonial era. Dr. 
 John Lining, a native of Scotland, in 1753, pub- 
 lished at Charleston a history of the Yellow 
 Fever, the first which had appeared on this con- 
 tinent. He was a correspondent of Franklin, and 
 pursued scientific studies. He died in 1760, in 
 his fifty-second year, having practised medicine 
 in Charleston for nearly thirty years. Dr. Lio- 
 nel Chalmers, also a Scotchman, was long esta- 
 blished in the state, and published an Essay on 
 Fevers at Charleston in 1767. He was the author, 
 too, of a work on the Weather and Diseases of 
 South Carolina, which was issued in London in 
 1776, the year before his death. 
 
 Dr. Alexander Garden was born in Scotland 
 about the year 1728, and was the son of the Rev. 
 Alex. Garden, of the parish of Birse, who, during 
 the Rebellion in the years 1745 and 1746, was 
 distinguished by his exertions in favor of the 
 family of Hanover, and by his interposition in 
 behalf of the followers of the house of Stuart after 
 their defeat at Culloden. 
 
 Dr. Garden studied philosophy in the Univer- 
 sity of Aberdeen, and received his first medical 
 education under the celebrated Dr. John Gregory. 
 He arrived in South Carolina about the middle 
 of the eighteenth century, and commenced the 
 practice of physic in Prince William's parish, in 
 connexion with Dr. Rose. Here he began his 
 botanic studies, but was obliged to take a voyage 
 northward for his health. 
 
 In 1754 he went to New York, where a pro- 
 fessorship in the college, recently formed in that 
 
 * Historical Collections of South Carolina. By B. R. Carroll. 
 Harpers, New York. 2 vols. Svo. 1886. 
 
 t It was separately reprinted by A. E. Miller. Charleston, 
 1822. 
 
 ± Rich's Bib. Americana. 
 
 § Holmes 1 Annals, i. 5u7. 
 
132 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 city, was offered him. On his return, he settled 
 in Charleston, acquired a fortune by his practice, 
 and a high reputation for literature. During that 
 period he gave to the public An Account of the 
 Pink Root (Spigelia marilandica), with its Uses 
 as a Vermifuge ; A Description of the ffelesia, 
 read before the Koyal Society ; An Account of the 
 Male and Female Cochineal Insects; An Account 
 of the Amphibious Biped (the Mud, Inguana or 
 Syren of South Carolina) : An Account of two 
 new Species of Tortoises, and another of the 
 Gymnotus Electricus, to different correspondents, 
 and published. 
 
 In compliment to him, Linnsaus gave the name 
 of Gardenia to one of the most beautiful and 
 fragrant flowering shrubs in the world. He was 
 elected a Fellow of the Koyal Society of London, 
 and on his arrival there, in 1783, was appointed 
 one of its council, and subsequently one of its 
 vice-presidents. 
 
 Dr. Garden's pulmonic disease, which had been 
 suspended during his long residence in South 
 Carolina, now returned upon him. He went for 
 health to the continent, and received great kind- 
 ness and distinguished compliments from the lite- 
 rati everywhere, but did not improve in health. 
 He died in London in the year 1792, aged sixty- 
 four years.* 
 
 The Rev. Alexander Garden, who was also 
 from Scotland, came to Charleston about 1720, 
 and died there in 1756, at an advanced age. He 
 was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, learned 
 and charitable. He published several theological 
 writings, including Letters to Whitefield, and the 
 Doctrine of Justification Vindicated. The Rev. 
 Richard Clarke, from England, was Rector of St. 
 Philip's, in Charleston, a good classical scholar. 
 He published on the prophecies and universal 
 redemption. The Rev. Isaac Chanler, and the 
 Rev. Henry Haywood, two Baptist clergymen of 
 the State," also published several theological 
 writings. 
 
 The distinguished naturalist, Mark Catesby, 
 passed several years in South Carolina, engaged 
 in the researches for his Natural History. He 
 was born in England in 1679. He first visited 
 Virginia, where some of his relations resided, 
 in 1712, remaining there seven years collect- 
 ing plants, and studying the productions of 
 the country. Returning to England, he was led 
 by his scientific friends, Sir Hans Sloane and 
 others, to revisit America, and took up his resi- 
 dence in South Carolina in 1722. He traversed 
 the coast, and made distant excursions into the 
 interior, and visited the Bahamas, collccti ng the 
 materials for his work, the first volume of which 
 was completed in 1732, and the second in 1743. 
 The plates, then the most costly which had been 
 devoted to the Natural History of America, were 
 completed in 1718. A second edition was pub- 
 lished in 1754,t and a third in 1771. Catesby 
 died in London in 1749, 
 
 * Ramsay's Biojr. Sketches, appended to the second volume 
 of his History of South Carolina. 
 
 t The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama 
 Islands, containing the figures of Birds, Beasts, Fishes, Ser- 
 
 Eents, Insects, and Plants : particularly the Forest Trees, 
 brubs, and other plants not hitherto described, or very incor- 
 rectly figured by authors, together with their Descriptions in 
 English an/1 French, to which are added Observations on the 
 
 JOHN OSBOEN. 
 
 John Osboen was born in 1713 at Sandwick, a 
 village on Cape Cod Bay. His father was a 
 schoolmaster, and subsequently a clergyman, but 
 varied his scholastic by agricultural labors. The 
 son received a similarly practical education, en- 
 tered Harvard college at the age of nineteen, and 
 after being graduated studied theology. At the 
 expiration of two years he read a sermon before 
 the assembled clergy of the neighborhood with a 
 view of soliciting ordination, but the decision of 
 his auditors being adverse to the doctrines, though 
 laudatory of the literary merits of the discourse, 
 he was refused their recommendation. He then 
 studied medicine and was admitted to practice. 
 He was offered a tutorship in Harvard college, 
 1 but declined the appointment as a bachelorship 
 was one of the conditions of its tenure, and he 
 ! was about to become a married man. He soon 
 I after married Miss Doane, of Chatham, and re- 
 ' moved to Middletown, Conn. In a letter to his 
 j sister in March, 1753, he complains of being con- 
 | fined to the house, "weak, lame, and uneasy," 
 ! and of having " lingered almost two years, a life 
 j not worth having." He died May 31 of the 
 same year, leaving six children. Two of these, 
 John and John C, became eminent physicians 
 and cultivated men. John published before the 
 revolution a translation of Condamine's Treatise 
 on Inoculation, with an Appendix ; and Joel Bar- 
 low submitted his manuscript of the Vision of 
 Columbus to his brother and Richard Alsop for 
 review before its publication. 
 
 Two brief poems, The Whaling Song and An 
 Elegiac Epistle on the Death of a Sister, are sup- 
 posed to comprise all that Osborn has written. 
 One of these has enjoyed a very wide popularity 
 among the class to whom it was addressed.* 
 
 A WHALING SONG. 
 
 When spring returns with western gales, 
 
 And gentle breezes sweep 
 The ruffling seas, we spread our sails 
 
 To plough the wat'ry deep. 
 
 For killing northern whales prepared, 
 
 Our nimble boats on board, 
 With craft and rum (our chief regard) 
 
 And good provisions stored, 
 
 Cape Cod, our dearest native land, 
 
 We leave astern, and lose 
 Its sinking cliffs and lessening sands. 
 
 While Zephyr gently blows. 
 
 Bold, hardy men, with blooming age, 
 
 Our sandy shores produce ; 
 With monstrous fish they dare engage, 
 
 And dangerous callings choose. 
 
 Now towards the early dawning east 
 
 We speed our course away, 
 With eager minds, and joyful hearts, 
 
 To meet the rising day. 
 
 Then as we turn our wondering eyes, 
 
 We view one constant show ; 
 Above, around, the circling skies, 
 
 The rolling seas below. 
 
 Air, Soil, and Waters: with Remarks upon Agriculture, Grain, 
 Pulse, Boots, &c, by the late Mark Catesby, F.R.S. Revised 
 by Mr. Edwards, of the Royal College of Physicians, London, 
 2 vols, folio, Lond. 1754. 
 * Kettell's Specimens ; Thacher's Med. Biog. \ Allen ; Eliot. 
 
JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 133 
 
 When eastward, clear of Newfoundland, 
 
 We stem the frozen pole, 
 We see the icy islands stand, 
 
 The northern billows roll. 
 
 As to the north we make our way, 
 
 Surprising scenes we find ; 
 We lengthen out the tedious day, 
 
 And leave the night behind. 
 
 Now see the northern regions, where 
 
 Eternal winter reigns: 
 One day and night fills up the year, 
 
 And endless cold maintains. 
 
 We view the monstej's of the deep, 
 Great whales in numerous swarms ; 
 
 And creatures there, that play and leap, 
 Of strange, unusual forms. 
 
 When in our station we are placed, 
 
 And whales around us play, 
 We launch our boats into the main, 
 
 And swiftly chase our prey. 
 
 In haste we ply our nimble oars, 
 
 For an assault design'd ; 
 The sea beneath us foams and roars, 
 
 And leaves a wake behind. 
 
 A mighty whale we rush upon, 
 
 And in our irons throw : 
 She sinks her monstrous body down 
 
 Among the waves below. 
 
 And when she rises out again, 
 
 We soon renew the fight ; 
 Thrust our sharp lances in amain, 
 
 And all her rage excite. 
 
 Enraged, she makes a mighty bound ; 
 
 Thick foams the whiten'd sea ; 
 The waves in circles rise around, 
 
 And widening roll away. 
 
 She thrashes with her tail around, 
 And blows her redd'niug breath ; 
 
 She breaks the air, a deaf'ning sound, 
 While ocean groans beneath. 
 
 From numerous wounds, with crimson flood, 
 
 She stains the frothy seas, 
 Ami gasps, and blows her latest blood, 
 
 While quivering life decays. 
 
 With joyful hearts we see her die, 
 
 And on the surface lay ; 
 While all with eager haste apply, 
 
 To save our deathful pre}'. 
 
 THE EET. JOHN ADAMS. 
 The publisher of the Poems on several occa- 
 sion*, Original and Translated, by the late Reve- 
 rend and Learned John Adams, M. A.,* says in 
 his prefatory address to the candid reader of his 
 author, " His own works are the best encomium 
 that can be given him, and as long as learning and 
 politeness shall prevail, his sermom will be his 
 monument, and his poetry bis epitaph" 
 
 The epitaph has proved more enduring than the 
 monument, though even that has hardly escaped 
 being thrust irrecoverably in "Time's Wallet." 
 
 * Poems on Several Occasions. Orim'nal and Translated, by 
 the late Reverend and Learned John Adams, M. A. Hoc 
 placuti semel, hoc dtcies reprtita placehit. Hor. de Art. Poet 
 Boston. Printed for D. Gookin. in Marlboroagh street, over 
 against the Old South Meeting House. 1745. 
 
 The Rev. John Adams's little volume is seldom 
 
 
 JJ. 
 
 Ce^r*^^ 
 
 thought of or seen, save by the literary student. 
 It does not deserve the neglect into which it has 
 fallen. 
 
 His life, so far as known, may be narrated in a 
 sentence. He was the only son of the Hon. John 
 Adams, of Nova Scotia, was born in 1704, gradu- 
 ated from Harvard in 1721, was ordained and set- 
 tled at Newport, Rhode Island, contrary, it is said, 
 to the wishes of Mr. Clap, the pastor, whose con- 
 gregation formed a new society, leaving Mr. 
 Adams, who appears to have been an assistant, to 
 officiate for two years, and then be dismissed. 
 
 He was in great repute as an eloquent preacher, 
 and is described by his uncle, Matthew Adams, as 
 " master of nine languages." He died in 1740, at 
 the early age of thirty-six years, at Cambridge, 
 the fellows of the College appearing as pall-bear- 
 ers, and the most distinguished persons of the 
 state as mourners at bis funeral. 
 
 His volume contains a poetical paraphrase, 
 chapter by chapter, of the Book of Revelation, 
 and of some detached passages from other parts 
 of the Bible. Like most well educated writers 
 of verse, he has tried his hand on a few of the 
 Odes of Horace, and with success. 
 
 The original poems consist of tributes to de- 
 ceased friends, penned with ingenuity and elo- 
 quence, a poem in three parts on Society, and a 
 few verses on devotional. topics. 
 
 He was also the author of some verses addressed 
 " To a gentleman on the sight of some of his 
 Poems," published in " A Collection of Poems by 
 Several Hands," Boston, 1744. They were ad- 
 dressed to the Rev. Mather Byles, and are stated 
 in a MS. note in a copy of the collection, now in 
 the possession of Mr. George Ticknor, to be by 
 Adams. He was also the author of a poem on 
 the Love of Money. 
 
 His sermon delivered at his ordination in 172S 
 was published. The collection of his poems con- 
 tains an advertisement that " a number of select 
 and excellent sermons from his pen are ready for 
 the press, and upon suitable encouragement will 
 be shortly published." But the suitable encou- 
 ragement seems to have never been received. 
 
 FROM A POEM ON SOCIETY. 
 
 By inclination, and by judgment led, 
 
 A constant friend we choose, for friendship made. 
 
 His breast the faithful cabinet to hold 
 
 More precious secrets, than are gerns or gold. 
 
 His temper sweetly suited to our own, 
 
 Where wit and honesty conspire in one, 
 
 And perfect breeding, like a beauteous dress, 
 
 Give all his actions a peculiar grace: 
 
 Whose lofty mind with high productions teems, 
 
 And fame unmortal dazzles with its beams. 
 
 Not avarice, nor odious flattery 
 
 Lodge in his breast, nor can ascend so high ; 
 
 Or if they dare to tempt, he hurls them down, 
 
 Like Jove the rebels, from his reason's throne. 
 
 Nor is his face in anger's scarlet drest, 
 
 Nor black revenge eats up his cankcr'd breast. 
 
 Nor envy's furies in his bosom roll, 
 
 To lash with steely whips, his hideous soul: 
 
 Not sour contempt sits on his scornful brow, 
 
134 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Nor looks on human nature sunk below ; 
 But heavenly candor, like unsullied day, 
 Flames in his thoughts, and drives the clouds 
 
 away. 
 And all his soul is peaceful, like the deep, 
 When all the warring winds are hush'd asleep. 
 Whose learning's pure, without the base alloy 
 Of rough ill manners, or worse pedantry. 
 Refin'd in taste, in judgment cool and clear, 
 To others gentle, to himself severe. 
 But, most of all, whose smooth and heavenly 
 
 breast, 
 Is with a calm of conscience ever blest : 
 Whose piercing eyes disperse the flying gloom, 
 Which hides the native light of things to come ; 
 And can disclose the dark mysterious maze, 
 Thro' which we wind, in airy pleasure's chace. 
 While after God his panting bosom heaves, 
 For whom the glittering goods of life he leaves. 
 With this blest man, how longs my soul to dwell! 
 And all the nobler flights of friendship feel, 
 Forever chain'd to his enchanting tongue, 
 And with his charming strains in consort strung. 
 
 It some retirement, spread with shaded greens, 
 Our feet would wander thro' surrounding scenes ; 
 Or sitting near the murmur of the rills, 
 The grass our bed, our curtains echoing hills ; 
 In mazy thought and contemplation join, 
 Or speak of human things, or themes divine: 
 On nature's work by gentle steps to rise, 
 And by this ladder gain th' impending skies; 
 Follow the planets thro' their rolling spheres, 
 Shine with the sun, or glow among the stars: 
 From world to world, as bees from flowY to flow'r, 
 Thro' nature's ample garden take our lour. 
 Oh! could I with a seraph's vigor move! 
 Guided thro' nature's trackless path to rove, 
 I'd gaze, and ask the laws of every Ball, 
 Which rolls unseen within this mighty All, 
 'Till, reaching to the verge of Nature's height 
 In God would lose th' unwearied length of flight. 
 
 But oh ! what joys thro' various bosoms rove, 
 
 As silver riv'lets warble through a grove, 
 
 When fix'd on Zion's ever-wid'ning plains, 
 
 The force of friendship but increas'd remains: 
 
 When friend to friend, in robes immortal drest, 
 
 With heighten'd graces shall be seen contest; 
 
 And with a triumph, all divine, relate 
 
 The finish'd labours of this gloomy state : 
 
 How heavenly glory dries their former grief, 
 
 All op'ning from the puzzled maze of life ; 
 
 How scenes on scenes, and J03's on joys arise, 
 
 And fairer visions charm on keener eyes. 
 
 Here each will find his friend a bubbling source, 
 
 Forever fruitful in divine discourse: 
 
 No common themes will grace their flowing tongues, 
 
 No common subjects will inspire their songs : 
 
 United, ne'er to part, but still to spend 
 
 A jubilee of rapture without end — 
 
 But oh! my Muse, from this amazing height 
 
 Descend, and downward trace thy dangerous flight; 
 
 Some angel best becomes such lofty things, 
 
 With skill to guide, and strength to urge his 
 
 wings : 
 To lower strains, confine thy humble lays, 
 'Till, by experience taught, thou learn to praise. 
 
 In handling the following pathetic theme he 
 touches the lyre with no trembling hand. 
 
 TO MY HONOURED FATHER ON THE LOSS OF niS BIGHT. 
 
 Now Heav'n has quench'd the vivid orbs of light, 
 By which all nature glitter'd to your sight, 
 
 And universal darkness has o'er-spread 
 
 The splendid honours of your aged head ; 
 
 Let faith light up its strong and piercing eye, 
 
 And in remoter realms new worlds descry: 
 
 Faith, which the mind with fairer glories fills. 
 
 Than human sight to human sense reveals. 
 
 See Jrsus, sitting on a flamy throne, 
 
 Whose piercing beams the vailing angels own ; 
 
 While bowing seraphs, blissful, clap their wings, 
 
 Ting'd with the light that from his presence springs, 
 
 You, who car; touch the strings to melting ails, 
 
 And with melodious trills enchant our ears, 
 
 May, wing'd by faith, to heavenly vocal plains, 
 
 In fancy's organ, drink subbmer strains: 
 
 The sounds, which love and sacred joys inspire, 
 
 Which pour the music from the raptur'd choir. 
 
 Tho', now the net is wove before your sight, 
 
 The web, unfolding soon, will give the light: 
 
 The visual rays will thro' the pupil spring, 
 
 And nature in a fairer landskip bring. 
 
 But first your frame must moulder in the ground, 
 
 Before the light will kindle worlds around: 
 
 Your precious ashes, sow'd within the glebe, 
 
 Will teem with light, and purer beams imbibe : 
 
 Shut now from all the scenes of cheerful day, 
 
 You ne'er will see, 'till Jesus pours the ray, 
 
 And all the pom]) of Heav'n around display. 
 
 So when a stream has waibled thro' the wood, 
 
 Its limpid bosom smooths and clears its flood ; 
 
 The rolling mirrour deep imbibes the stains 
 
 Of heav'nly saphyr, and impending greens; 
 
 'Till thro' the ground, in secret channels led, 
 
 It hides its glories in the gloomy bed : 
 
 'Till, op'ning thro' a wide and flow'ry vale, 
 
 Far fairer scenes the purer streams reveal. 
 
 Of his Horatian exercises we may take the first 
 ode : — 
 
 HORACE, BOOK I., ODE I. 
 
 Maecenas, whose ennobled veins 
 
 The blood of ancient monarchs stains; 
 
 My safeguard, beauty and delight. 
 
 Some love the chariot's rapid flight, 
 
 To whirl along the dusty ground, 
 
 Till with Olympic honors crown'd : 
 
 And if their fiery coursers tend 
 
 Beyond the goal, they shall ascend 4 
 
 In merit, equal to the gods, 
 
 Who people the sublime abodes. 
 
 Others, if mingled shouts proclaim 
 
 Of jarring citizens, their name, 
 
 Exalted to some higher post, 
 
 Are in the clouds of rapture lost. 
 
 This, if his granary contain 
 
 In crowded heaps the ripen'd grain, 
 
 Rejoicing his paternal field 
 
 To plough, a future crop to yield ; 
 
 In vain his timorous soul you'd move 
 
 Though endless sums his choice should prove, 
 
 To leave the safety of the land, 
 
 And trust him to the wind's command. 
 
 The trembling sailor, when the blue 
 
 And boisterous deep his thoughts pursue, 
 
 Fearful of tempests, dreads his gam 
 
 To venture o'er the threat'ning main : 
 
 But loves the shades and peaceful town 
 
 Where joy and quiet dwell alone. 
 
 But when, impatient to be poor, 
 
 His flying vessels leave the shore. 
 
 Others the present hour will seize, 
 
 And less for business are than ease; 
 
 But flowing cups of wine desire, 
 
 Which scatter grief, and joy inspire; 
 
 Joyful they quaff, and spread their limbs 
 
 Along the banks of murm'ring streams, 
 
JOHN WINTHROP. 
 
 13£ 
 
 While trees, which shoot their tow'ring heads, 
 
 Protect them with their cooling shades. 
 
 Some love the camp and furious war, 
 
 Where nations, met with nations, jar; 
 
 The noise of victors, and the cries 
 
 Of Vanquished, winch assault the skies, 
 
 Wliile at the trumpet's piercing ring 
 
 Their mounting spirits vigorous spring; 
 
 When fainting matrons, in a swound. 
 
 Receive the martial music's sound. 
 
 The morning hunter seeks his prey, 
 
 Though chill'd by heaven's inclemency. 
 
 Forgets his house : with dogs pursues 
 
 The flying stag in her purlieus. 
 
 Or his entangling net contains 
 
 The foamy boar, in ropy chains. 
 
 But me, the ivy wreaths, which spread 
 
 Their blooming honors round the head 
 
 Of learned bards, in raptures raise, 
 
 And with the gods unite in praise. 
 
 The coolness of the rural scenes, 
 
 The smiling flowers and ever-greens. 
 
 And sportful 'lances, all inspire 
 
 My soul, with more than vulgar fire. 
 
 If sweet Euterpe give her flute, 
 
 And Polyhymnia lend her lute. 
 
 If you the deathless bays bestow, 
 
 And by applauses make them grow, 
 
 Toward the stars, my winged fame 
 
 Shall fly, and strike the heavenly frame. 
 
 JOIIN WTNTHEOP. 
 The accomplished natural, philosopher, Profes- 
 sor Winthrop, of Harvard, was a man of eminent 
 scientific reputation in his day, and was universally 
 
 mrf-L^ 
 
 spoken of with respect. He was a representative 
 of old Governor Winthrop in the fourth genera- 
 tion in descent from the fifth son. He was born 
 in Boston in 1714, studied at Cambridge, and six 
 years after his first degree, was appointed, in 
 1733, Hollis Professor of Mathematics and Natu- 
 ral Philosophy, to succeed Greenwood. His 
 Observations of the Transit of Mercury, in 1740, 
 were communicated to the Royal Society, of 
 which he subsequently became a Fellow, and 
 were published in the forty-second volume of 
 their Transactions. In 1755 he published a Lec- 
 ture on Earthquakes, on occasion of the celebrat- 
 ed phenomenon of that year, and parried in a 
 philosophical manner an attack which followed 
 from the Rev. Dr. Prince, of Boston, who thought 
 the theology of the day might be impaired in 
 consequence. Though his religious opinions were 
 firmly held, his election to his Professorship had 
 occasioned some opposition, as has since been the 
 case with Priestley, Playfair, and an instance of 
 the present day, in New York. A special doc- 
 trinal examination was waived in his favor* In 
 1759 he published two Lectures on Comets, which 
 he read in the college chapel in April of that 
 year, on occasion of the comet which appeared 
 in that month. His style in these essays, in 
 
 * Peircc, History of Harvard Univ. 188. We may refer to 
 tile remarks of Lord Brougham, in the case of Priestley, in that 
 great writer's memoir, in » The Lives of Men of Letters." 
 
 which he reviews the speculations on the subject, 
 and unfolds the theory of Newton, is marked by 
 its ease and felicity. As an instance of his man- 
 ner, we may quote some of his more general 
 remarks at the conclusion. 
 
 " It is not to be doubted, that the allwise Author 
 of nature designed so remarkable a sort of bodies for 
 important purposes, both natural and moral, in His 
 creation. The moral purposes seem not very diffi- 
 cult to be found. Such grand and unusual appear- 
 ances tend to rouse mankind, who are apt to fall 
 asleep, while all things continue as they were ; to 
 awaken their attention and to direct it to the su- 
 preme Governor of the universe, whom they would 
 be in danger of totally forgetting, were nature always 
 to glide along with an uniform tenor. These exotic 
 stars serve to raise in our minds most sublime con- 
 ceptions of God, and particularly display his exquisite 
 skill. The motions of many comets being contrary 
 to those of the planets, shew that neither of them 
 proceed from necessity or fate, but from choice and 
 design. The same thing is to be seen in the figure 
 and situation of their orbits ; which, indeed, have 
 not the appearance of regularity, as those of the 
 planets, and yet are the result of admirable contri- 
 vance. By means of their great eccentricity, they 
 run so swiftly through the planetary regions, as to 
 have but very little time to disturb their own mo- 
 tions or those of the planets. And this end is still 
 more effectually answered in those comets whose 
 motion is retrograde or contrary to that of the pla- 
 nets. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " But instead of entering here into a detail, which 
 would probably answer no valuable end, I choose 
 rather to turn your thoughts to that consummate 
 wisdom which presides over this vast machine of 
 nature, and has so regulated the several movements 
 in it as to obviate the damage that might arise from 
 this quarter. None but an eye able to pierce into the 
 remotest futurity, and to foresee, throughout all ages, 
 all the situations which this numerous class of bodies 
 would have towards the planets, in consequence of 
 the laws of their respective motions, could have given 
 so just an arrangement to their several orbits, and 
 assigned them their places at first in their orbits, 
 with such perfect accuracy, that their motions have 
 ever since continued without interfering, and no dis- 
 asters of this sort have taken place, unless we except 
 the case of the deluge. For though so many comets 
 have traversed this planetary system, and some of 
 their orbits run near to those of the planets ; yet the 
 planets have never been in the way, but always at 
 a distance from the nearest point, when the comets 
 have passed by it. The foresight of that great Be- 
 ing, which has hitherto prevented such disorders, 
 will continue to prevent them, so long as He sees fit 
 the present frame of nature should subsist. Longer 
 than that it is not fit that it should subsist. 
 
 " It ma} 7 not be unseasonable to remark, for a 
 conclusion, that as, on the one hand, it argues a 
 temerity unworthy a philosophic mind, to explode 
 every apprehension of danger from comets, as if it 
 were impossible that any damage could ever be oc- 
 casioned by any of them, because some idle and 
 superstitious fancies have in times of ignorance pre- 
 vailed concerning them ; so on the other, to be 
 thrown into a panic whenever a comet appears, on 
 account of the ill effects which some few of these 
 bodies might possibly produce, if they were not un- 
 der a proper direction, betrays a weakness equally 
 unbecoming a reasonable being. The wisest course 
 is to aim at such a rectitude of intention and firm- 
 ness of resolution, that, as Horace says: 
 
336 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " ' Si fractus illabatnr orbJs, 
 Impaviduia lerient ruina?.' " 
 
 On the sixth of June, 1761, Winthrop observed 
 the celebrated Transit of Venus, at St. John's, 
 Newfoundland, making the voyage thither in a 
 government vessel, at the charge of the Province, 
 at the especial instance of Governor Bernard. 
 This incident furnished the topic of the two 
 poems in the Pietas et Oratulatio of the same 
 year, which have been attributed to his pen. 
 
 Winthrop was followed, after an interval, in this 
 subject, by one of his college pupils, Andrew Oli- 
 ver, the eldest son of the Secretary of the Pro- 
 vince, and a gentleman of leisure and of scientific 
 and literary cultivation, who, in 1772, published 
 his Essay on Comets, in which he maintained 
 the theory that these bodies might be inhabited 
 worlds, " and even comfortable habitations."* Oli- 
 ver also wrote papers on Thunder Storms and 
 Water Spouts, which were published in the Trans- 
 actions of the American Philosophical Society, 
 of which he was a member, as he was also one 
 of the founders of the American Academy of Arts 
 and Sciences. 
 
 In 1705 Professor "Winthrop published an ac- 
 count of several fiery meteors visible in North 
 America ; and in 1766 his paper Cogitata de Co- 
 metis, which was communicated to the Royal So- 
 ciety by Dr. Franklin, and was separately printed 
 in London. 
 
 When the struggle of the colonies for freedom 
 commenced he took part in it, and was one of the 
 Council, with Bowdoin and Dexter, negatived by 
 the home government. He was re-chosen ; and 
 was also made Judge of Probate for the County 
 of Middlesex, an office which he held till his 
 death, in 1779, at the age of sixty. His eulogy 
 was pronounced by Professor Wigglesworth and 
 others ; and his pupil and friend, Andrew Oliver, 
 composed an elegy, the only specimen preserved 
 of tins writer's poetic talents. 
 
 Ye sons of Harvard ! who, by Winthrop taught, 
 Can travel round each planetary sphere ; 
 
 And winged with his rapidity of thought, 
 Trace all the movements of the rolling year, 
 Drop on his urn the tribute' of a tear. 
 
 Ye, whom the love of Geometry inspired. 
 
 To chase coy science through each winding maze ; 
 Whose breasts were with Newtonian ardor tired, 
 
 Catched by Ins sparks, and kindled at his blaze. 
 
 In grateful sighs, ejaculate his praise. 
 
 Ye philosophic souls! whose thoughts can trace 
 The wonders of the architect divine, 
 
 Through depths beneath, o'er nature's verdant face, 
 Where meteors play, where constellations shine, 
 Heave the deep groan, and mix your tears with 
 mine. 
 
 Ye tenants of the happy seats above! 
 Welcome this late inhabitant of cla}', 
 
 From hostile factions, to the realms of love, 
 Where he may bask in everlasting day, 
 Ye kindred spirits waft him in his way. 
 
 When in their sockets suns shall blaze their last. 
 Their fuel wasted, and extinct their light, 
 
 * Both these compositions of Winthrop and Oliver were re- 
 published, with biographical notices, in Boston, in 1811, when 
 the re-appearance of one of these heavenly bodies had created 
 a new interest in the 6ubject. 
 
 And worlds torn piecemeal by the final blast, 
 Subside in chaos and eternal night, 
 
 He still shall shine 
 In youth divine, 
 And soaring on cherubic wing, 
 Shall like an ardent seraph blaze, 
 And in unceasing raptures, to his Maker's praise, 
 Eternal hallelujahs sing. 
 
 Professor Winthrop left a son, James Winthrop, 
 who fought and was wounded at Bunker Hill, 
 and became Judge of the Common Pleas. He 
 was also a man of much literature and science, a 
 good linguist, publishing, in 1794, An Attempt to 
 translate part of the Apjocalypse of St. John into 
 familiar language, by divesting it of the meta- 
 phors in which it is involved, a second edition of 
 which was printed in 1809. He wrote for a peri- 
 odical, The Literary Miscellany, Dissertations 
 on Primitive History and the Geography of the 
 Old World, and several scientific papers. He 
 was librarian at Harvard for fifteen years, dying 
 at the age of 70, at Cambridge, in 1821. He 
 bequeathed his valuable library to the college at 
 Meadville, Pennsylvania.* 
 
 SAMUEL CTJEWEN. 
 Samuel Cukwen, a descendant from George Cur- 
 wen, who settled in the town of Salem, Massa- 
 chusetts, in 1638, was born in that place in 1715. 
 Completing his course at Harvard in 1735, he 
 commenced a preparation for the ministry, but 
 was obliged to abandon his determination in con- 
 sequence of ill health. Disappointment in a love 
 affair led him to seek relief in a change of scene 
 by a visit to England. On his return he engaged 
 in business, and became a leading merchant. 
 In 17-14-5 he served as a captain in the attack 
 upon Louisburg. In 1759 he was appointed Im- 
 post Officer for the county of Essex, and held the 
 office for fifteen years. In June, 1774, on the 
 departure of Governor Hutchinson for Europe, 
 Mr. Curwen, who was then a Judge of Admiralty, 
 joined with one hundred and nineteen citizens of 
 the colon}', in signing an address to that officer 
 of a commendatory character. Many of these 
 signers were afterwards stigmatized as " Address- 
 ers," and compelled to make a public recantation 
 of the act. Mr. Curwen declined doing this, and 
 having from the outset sided with Great Britain, 
 resolved to withdraw from the country until 
 public affairs resumed their former tranquillity. 
 A few months would, he supposed, effect this, 
 and he sailed from Philadelphia in May, 1775, 
 with the expectation of making a correspondingly 
 brief stay abroad. Mr. Curwen arrived at Dover, 
 Jul}' 3, 1775. He immediately departed for Lon- 
 don, where he passed several months, principally 
 occupied in sight-seeing. In June, 1776, he 
 writes, " I find my finances so visibly lessening, 
 that I wish I could remove from this expensive 
 country (being heartily tired of it). To beg is a 
 meanness I wish never to be reduced to, and to 
 starve is stupid." With a view to economy, and 
 probably to gratify his taste for sight-seeing as 
 well, we find him soon after leaving London to 
 visit the great towns in search of a less costly 
 place of residence. After a ramble about Eng- 
 
 * Knapp, Am. Biog. 3S1. 
 
SAMUEL CURWEN. 
 
 137 
 
 land, which gives us some curious pictures of 
 inns and churches, show-places and antiquities, 
 fairs and hustings, he settles down in Bristol, but 
 in 1780 returns to London, where he remained 
 until his departure for America after the close 
 of the war in. 1784. He returned to his native 
 town, was entirely unmolested on account of his 
 political course, and died in April, 1802, at the 
 " age of eighty-six. 
 
 During his sojourn in England, he kept a i 
 familiar journal of his movements, occupations, 
 and amusements, which was sent in detached 
 pieces to his niece, and some sixty years after- 
 wards, in 1842, published* under the editorial 
 care of her grandson. It is of great value in an 
 historical point of view, displaying the condition 
 of the refugees in England, their opinion of 
 American affairs, and the action of Parliament 
 during the war. It is also interesting for its pic- 
 tures of London society and localities three 
 quarters of a century ago. He falls in with Hutch- 
 inson almost as soon as he arrives, goes to hear 
 Dr. Aptliorpe preach, walks out with Parson : 
 Peters, takes tea with facetious Joseph Green, 
 and afterwards pays a visit of condolence to his 
 widow. He is an indefatigable sight-seer, keeps 
 the run of the theatres, and does not despise 
 the rope-dancers, follows the debates at the 
 House of Commons, and looks in now and then 
 at "the Ladies' Disputing Club, Cornhill." To 
 the last, he takes a discouraging view of Ameri- 
 can independence, writing May 11, 1782, to 
 Richard Ward at Salem, as follows : — 
 
 To RicnAitD Ward, Esq.. Salem. 
 
 London, May 11, 1T82. 
 Dear Sir., 
 
 Should your great and good ally obtain the two 
 only very probable objects of her American alliance, 
 the impoverishment of Great Britain and the conse- 
 quent seizure of the late English colonies, -which she 
 seems at present in a fair way for, no man on this I 
 side the Atlantic in his wits would, I think, what- 
 ever regard he may feel for his native country, will- 
 ingly forego a bare subsistence here for French 
 domination and wooden shoes there. I would just 
 suggest to you, should America in this hour refuse I 
 the offers Great Britain may make of a separate 
 peace ; or France refuse to suffer her. (for we well 
 know here the power she has acquired over her,) 
 and no partition treaty take place, (being in the pre- 
 sent situation the best to be expected, ) depend upon 
 it, you fathers of the present age will have it in their 
 power, ere many revolutions of the sun, to tell their 
 children the inestimable civil, religious and political 
 privileges you of this generation have wantoned 
 away, and with sad regret recount the happy con- 
 dition of former days; nor will the comparison with 
 those you will then mournfully experience between 
 English protection and French oppression, fail to 
 enhance your misery. You will then find the little 
 finger of French power heavier than the loin of the 
 English government, with all its apprehended train 
 of evils. As a proof of my needless fears or right 
 
 * Journal and Letters of the late Samuel Curwen, Judge of 
 Admiralty, etc., an American Refugee in England, from 1775 
 to 1784. comprising remarks on the prominent Men and 
 Measures of the Period, to which are added Biographical 
 Notices of many American Loyalists and other Eminent 
 Persons. By George Atkinson Ward. New York: C. S. 
 Francis & Co. 
 
 judgment, convey my kind love to your wife and 
 children. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 S. CurtwEX. 
 
 . September 7 and 14, 1777, we find him attend- 
 ing 
 
 joun Wesley's preachment. 
 
 In the afternoon, walked to a street adjoining 
 King's square to attend John Wesley's preachment; 
 he being seated on a decent scaffold, addressed about 
 two thousand people, consisting of the middle and 
 lower ranks. The preacher's language was plain 
 and intelligible, without descending to vulgarisms. 
 
 Sept. 14. In the afternoon I attended once more 
 John Wesley, having the heavens for his canopy ; he 
 began with an extempore prayer, followed by a 
 hymn of his own composing, and adapted to the sub- 
 ject of his discourse. He wears his own gray hair, 
 or a wig so very like that my eye could not distin- 
 guish. He is not a graceful speaker, his voice being 
 weak and harsh ; he is attended by great numbers 
 of the middling and lower classes ; is said to have 
 humanized the almost savage colliers of Kingswood, 
 who, before his time, were almost as fierce and un- 
 manageable as the wild beasts of the wilderness. 
 He wears an Oxford master's gown ; his attention 
 seemingly not directed to manner and behavior, — 
 not rude, but negligent, dress cleanly, not neat. He 
 is always visiting the numerous societies of his own 
 forming in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland; 
 though near eighty years old, he reads without spec- 
 tacles the smallest print. He rises at four, preaches 
 every day at five, and once besides; an uncommon 
 instance of physical ability. 
 
 September 17, 1780, he heard Samuel Peters 
 preach at Lincoln's Inn Chapel. " He is an in- 
 different speaker and composer — how he got 
 there is as difficult to conceive as straws in 
 amber." 
 
 We group together a few of Mr. Curwen's nu- 
 merous street notes and observations. 
 
 ******** 
 
 S''pt. 23. Walking through Old Bailey, and see- 
 ing a great crowd, learnt that two pickpockets were 
 to be whipped. Jack Ketch, a short sturdy man, 
 soon appeared with the culprits, one after the other; 
 the first seemed like an old offender, and was mode- 
 rately lashed ; the mob said lie had bought off the 
 minister of justice ; he writhed but little. The other 
 was young, distress painted strongly on his coun- 
 tenance ; he cried loudly; his back seemed unused 
 to stripes ; from this time it will carry tiie marks of 
 legal vengeance, and proofs of his folly and wicked- 
 ness. Going forward, passed through the Strand ; 
 and returned by way of Covent Garden to see elec- 
 tion, which had been ended and poll closed for two 
 hours; and the elected members, returning from the 
 procession, were just entering James'-street, mounted 
 on two arm chairs, placed on a board that was car- 
 ried on eight men's shoulders, accompanied by thou- 
 sands with tokens of victory: red and blue ribbons 
 in their hats. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Sept. 29. As I was walking in Holborn. observed 
 a throng of ordinary people crowding round a chaise 
 filled with young children of about seven years of 
 age ; inquiring the reason, was informed they were 
 young sinners who were accustomed to go about in 
 the evening, purloining whatever they could lay 
 their hands on, and were going to be consigned into 
 the hands of justice. Great pity that so many chil- 
 dren, capable of being trained to useful employments 
 
138 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and become blessiugsto society, should be thus early 
 initiated, by the wicked unthinking parents of the 
 lower classes in this huge overgrown metropolis, in 
 those pernicious practices of every species of vice 
 the human heart can be tainted with, which renders 
 them common pests, and most commonly briugsthem 
 to the halter. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Sept. 5. In walking through Parliament-street 
 and seeing crowds running through Scotland-yard, 
 joined them, and on inquiry found they were ac- 
 companying Parson Lloyd, a clergyman, returned 
 from Bow-street Justices' examination to Westmin- 
 ster Bridewell, from whence he was taken this 
 morning on a complaint of highway robbery ; and 
 it is said lie is identified. He seemed hardened, and 
 of a rough, bold cast, and begged with a careless 
 boldness money of every well dressed person that 
 
 Eassed as he was being conducted to prison in irons; 
 is right hand being also chained to an officer's, or 
 one of the justice's men. 
 
 ******** 
 
 April 7. Passed a crowd attending procession in 
 Parliament-street, going to take the Westminster 
 candidate, Charles J. Fox, from his lodgings to the 
 hustings under St. Paul's, Covent Garden, portico. 
 First marched musicians two and two, then four men 
 supporting two red painted poles having on top the 
 cap of liberty of a dark blue color; to each was fas- 
 tened a light blue silk standard about nine feet long 
 and five wide, having inscribed thereon in golden 
 letters these words, " The Man of the People ;" fol- 
 lowed by the butchers with marrow-bones and cleav- 
 ers; then the committee two and two, holding in 
 their hands white wands ; in the rear the carriages. 
 They stopped at his house in St. James's-street, where 
 taking him up, he accompanied them in Mr. Byng's 
 carriage through Pall Mall and the Strand to the 
 hustings, when the election proceeded ; made with- 
 out opposition, no competitor appearing against 
 him. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF KING PHILIP'S WAR. 
 
 Captain Benjamin Church, the leader in the 
 war against King Philip, dictated, in the latter 
 part of his life, an account of his Indian expe- 
 riences to his son Thomas, by whom, probably 
 with little or no change, it was published in a 
 volume. It is a valuable historical authority, and 
 in itself, as a straightforward and spirited narra- 
 tive of brave and romantic adventure, well worthy 
 of attention. 
 
 £h 
 
 -t-t^-AtK-rl 
 
 iSHtM,y-rVi 
 
 Benjamin Church was born at Duxbury, Mas- 
 sachusetts, in 1639, and was the first settler of 
 Seconet or Little Compton. " Being providentially 
 at Plymouth," he informs us, "in 1674, in the 
 lime of the court, he fell into acquaintance witli 
 Captain John Alnry of Rhode Island," by whom 
 he was invited to visit " that part of Plymouth 
 Colony that lay next to Rhode Island, known 
 then by their Indian names of Pocasset and Sog- 
 konate." He did so, and purchased land, on 
 which he settled. 
 
 The next spring, while " Mr. Church was dili- 
 gently settling his new farm, stocking, leasing, 
 and disposing of his affairs, and had a fine pros- 
 pect of doing no small things; and hoping that 
 
 his good success would he inviting unto other 
 good men to become his neighbours : Behold ! the 
 rumour of a war between the English and the 
 natives, gave check to his projects." Hostilities 
 soon commenced. A force was raised, and Church 
 placed in command of an advanced guard. He 
 was at the head of the party which killed King 
 Philip, in August, 1676. He was afterwards, in 
 September, 1680, made commander-in-chief of an 
 expedition against the French and Indians at 
 Casco, and again employed in a similar service in 
 1690, and with Governor Phipps, in 1692. After 
 the burning of Deerfield, in 1704, he rode seventy 
 miles to offer his services against the Indians, 
 whom he harassed greatly at Penobscot and 
 Passamaquoddy. 
 
 After Philip's war, Colonel Church resided at 
 Bristol, then at Fall River, and lastly at Seconet, 
 " at each of which places he acquired and left a 
 large estate." He maintained throughout his life 
 the reputation of an upright and devout, as well 
 as brave man. He married Mrs. Alice South- 
 worth, by whom he had a daughter and five sons, 
 and died on the seventeenth of January, 1718, in 
 
 ! consequence of a fall from his horse, by which a 
 blood-vessel was broken. The first edition of, 
 The Entertaining History of King Philip's 
 War, which began in the month of Jam, 1675, as 
 aho of Expeditions more lately made against the 
 Common Enemy, and Indian Rebels, in the East- 
 ern parts of New England : with some account 
 of the Divine Providence towards Col. Benjamin 
 Church : by Thomas. Church, Esq., his son, was 
 published in Boston in 1716. A second edition 
 appeared at Newport in 1772, and a third and 
 fourth, with notes by Samuel G. Drake, in 1825 
 
 I and 1829* 
 
 A SCrTFLE. 
 
 Mr. Church was moved with other wounded men, 
 over to Rhodeisland, where in about three months' 
 time, he w r as in some good measure recovered of his 
 wounds, and the fever that attended them; and 
 then went over to the General to take his leave of 
 him, with a design to return home. But the Gene- 
 ral's great importunity again persuaded him to 
 accompany him in a long march into the Kipmuck 
 country, though he had tiien tents in his wounds, 
 and so lame as not to be able to mount his horse 
 without two men's assistance. 
 
 In this march, the first tiling remarkable was, they 
 came to an Indian town, where there were many 
 wigwams in sight, but an icy swamp, lying between 
 them and the wigwams, prevented their running at 
 once upon it as they intended. There was much 
 
 * Mr. Drake reprinted, in an ISmn. volume, in 1S83 : 
 
 The Present State of New England, with respect to the 
 Indian War. Wherein is an account of the true Reason there- 
 of, (as far as can be judged by Men,) together with most of the 
 Remarkable Passages that have happened from the 20th of 
 June till the 10th of November, 1675. Faithfully composed by 
 a merchant of Boston, and communicated to his friends in 
 London. London, 1675. 
 
 A continuation of the foregoing, from the 10th of November, 
 1675, to the 8th of February, 1675-6. London, 1676. 
 
 A new and further narrative, from March till August, 1676. 
 London, 1676. The Warr in New England visibly ended. 
 London, 1677. 
 
 A true account of the most considerable occurrences that 
 have happened in the war between the English and the Indians, 
 in New England, from the fifth of May, 1676, to the fourth of 
 August last. London, 1676. 
 
 He considers it highly probable that these five tracts, with 
 Church's Narrative, comprise all that can be recovered In rela- 
 tion to King Philip's war. 
 
BENJAMIN CHUECH. 
 
 139 
 
 firing upon each side before they passed the swamp. 
 But at length the enemy all fled, and a certain Mo- 
 hegan, that was a friend Indian, pursued and seized 
 one of the enemy that had a small wound in his leg, 
 and brought him before the General, where he was 
 examined. Some were for torturing him to bring 
 him to a more ample confession of what he knew 
 concerning his countrymen. Mr. Church, verily 
 believing that he had been ingenuous in his confes- 
 sion, interceded, and prevailed for his escaping 
 torture. But the army being bound forward in their 
 march, and the Indian's wound somewhat disen- 
 abling him for travelling, it was concluded that he 
 should be knocked on the head. Accordingly he 
 was brought before a great fire, and the Mohegan 
 that took him was allowed, as he desired, to be his 
 executioner. Mr. Church taking no delight in the 
 sport, framed an errand at some distance among the 
 baggage horses, and when he had got ten rods, or 
 thereabouts, from the fire, the executioner fetching a 
 blow with a hatchet at the head of the prisoner, he 
 being aware of the blow, dodged his head aside, 
 and the executioner missing his stroke, the hatchet 
 flew out of his hand, and had like to have done 
 execution where it was not designed. The prisoner 
 upon his narrow escape, broke from them that held 
 him, and notwithstanding his wound, made use of 
 bis legs, and happened to run right upon Mr. Church, 
 who laid hold on him, and a close scuffle they had; 
 bat the Indian having no clothes on, slipped from 
 him and ran again, and Mr. Church pursued him, 
 although being lame there was no great odds in the 
 race, until the Indian stumbled and fell, and then 
 they closed again — scuffled and fought pretty 
 smartly, until tiie Indian, by the advantage of his 
 nakedness, slipped from his hold again, and set out 
 on his third race, with Mr. Church close at his heels, 
 endeavouring to lay hold on the hair of his head, 
 which was all the hold could be taken of him. And 
 running through a swamp that was covered with 
 hollow ice, it made so loud a noise that Mr. Church 
 expected (but in vain) that some of his English 
 friends would follow the noise and come to his 
 assistance. But the Indian happened to run athwart 
 a large tree that lay fallen near breast high, where 
 he stopped and cried out aloud for help. But Mr. 
 Church being soon upon him again, the Indian 
 seized him fast by the hair of his head, and endea- 
 voured by twisting to break his neck. But though 
 Mr. Church's wounds had somewhat weakened him, 
 and the Indian a stout fellow, yet he held him in 
 play and twisted the Indian's neck as well, and took 
 the advantage of many opportunities, while they 
 hung by each other's hair, gave him notorious bunts 
 in tiie face with his head. But in the heat of the 
 scuffle they heard the ice break, with somebody's 
 coming apace to them, which when they heard, 
 Church concluded there was help for one or other 
 of them, but was doubtful which of them must now 
 receive the fatal stroke — anon somebody comes up 
 to them, who proved to be the Indian that had first 
 taken the prisoner ; and without speaking a word, 
 he felt them out, (for it was so dark he could not 
 distinguish them by Bight, the one being clothed 
 and the other naked) he felt where Mr. Church's 
 hands were fastened in the Netop's hair and with 
 one blow settled his hatchet in between them, and 
 thus ended the strife. He then spoke to Mr. Church 
 ami hugged him in Ids arms, and thanked him abun- 
 dantly lor catching his prisoner. He then cut off 
 the head of his victim and carried it to the camp, 
 and after giving an account to the rest of the friend 
 Indians in the camp how Mr. Church had seized 
 his prisoner, &c, they all joined in a mighty 
 shout. 
 
 DEATn OF KING PHILIP. 
 
 Captain Church being now at Plymouth again, 
 weary and worn, would have gone home to his wife 
 and family, but the government being solicitous to 
 engage him in the service until Philip was slain ; and 
 promising him satisfaction and redress for some mis- 
 treatment that he had met with, he fixes for another 
 expedition. 
 
 He had soon volunteers enough to make up the 
 ! company he desired, and marched through the 
 woods until he came to Pocasset. And not seeing 
 or hearing of any of the enemy, they went over 
 the ferry to Rhodeisland, to refresh themselves. The 
 Captain, with about half a dozen in his company, 
 took horses and rode about eight miles down the 
 island, to Mr. Stanford's, where he had left his wife. 
 She no sooner saw him, but fainted with surprise ; 
 and by that time she was a little revived, they spied 
 two horsemen coming a great pace. Captain Church 
 told his company, that " Those men (by their riding) 
 come with tidings." When they came up, they 
 proved to be Major Sanford, and Captain Golding. 
 They immediately asked Captain Church, what he 
 would give to hear some news of Philip ? He replied, 
 that that was what he wanted. They told him, that 
 they had rode hard with some hopes of overtaking 
 him, and were now come on purpose to inform 
 him, that there were just now tidings from Mount- 
 hope. An Indian came down from thence (where 
 Philip's camp now was) to Sandy point, over 
 against Trip's, and hallooed, and made signs to be 
 I fetched over. And being fetched over, he reported, 
 ': that he was fled from Philip, " who (said he) has 
 killed my brother just before I came away, for giv- 
 ing some advice that displeased him." And said, 
 that he was fled for fear of meeting with the same 
 his brother had met with. _ Told them also, that 
 Philip was now in Mounthope' neck. Captain Church 
 thanked them for their good news, and said, that 
 he hoped by to-morrow morning to have the rogue's 
 head. The horses that he and his company came 
 on standing at the door, (for they had not been un- 
 saddled) his wife must content herself with a short 
 visit, when such game was ahead. They immediately 
 mounted, set spurs to their horses, and away.^ 
 
 The two gentlemen that brought him the tidings, 
 told him, tlTat they would gladly wait upon him to 
 see the event of the expedition. He thanked them, 
 and told them, that he should be as fond of their 
 company as any men's; and (in short) they went 
 ■ with him. And they were soon at Trip's ferry, (with 
 Captain Church's company) where the deserter was. 
 He was a fellow of good sense, and told his story 
 handsomely. He offered Captain Church, to pilot 
 him to Philip, and to help to kill him, that he might 
 revenge his brother's death. Told him, that Philip 
 was now upon a little spot of upland, that was in 
 ; the south end of the miry swamp, just at the foot 
 of the mount, which was a spot of ground that 
 Captain Church was well acquainted with. 
 
 By that time they were over the ferry, and came 
 
 j near the ground, half the night was spent. The 
 
 Captain commands a halt, and bringing the company 
 
 together, he asked Major Sanford's and Captain 
 
 Gohling's advice, what method it was best to take in 
 
 making the onset ; but they declined giving him any 
 
 advice ; telling him, that his great experience and 
 
 success forbid their taking upon them to give advice. 
 
 Then Captain Church offered Captain Golding the 
 
 honour (if he would please accept of it) to beat up 
 
 Philip's headquarters. He accepted the offer and 
 
 had his allotted number drawn out to him, and the 
 
 pilot. Captain Church's instructions to him were, 
 
 , to be very careful in his approach to the enemy, and 
 
 i be sure not to show himself, until by daylight they 
 
140 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 might see and discern their own men from the ene- 
 my ; told him also, that his custom in like cases, 
 was, to creep with his company, on their bellies, 
 until they came as near as they could ; and that as 
 soon as the enemy discovered them, they would cry 
 out, and that was the word for his men to fire and 
 fall on. He directed him, that when the enemy 
 should start and take into the swamp, that they 
 should pursue with speed ; every man shouting arid 
 making what noise he could ; for he would give 
 orders to his ambuscade to fire on any that should 
 come silently. 
 
 Captain Church knowing that it was Philip's cus- 
 tom to be foremost in the flight, went down to the 
 swamp, and gave Captain Williams of Scituate the 
 command of the right wing of the ambush, and 
 placed an Englishman and an Indian together behind 
 such shelters of trees, &c, as he could find, and took 
 care to place them at such distance, that none might 
 
 Eass undiscovered between them ; charged them to 
 e careful of themselves, and of hurting their 
 friends, and to fire at any that should come silently 
 through the swamp. But it being somewhat farther 
 through the swamp than he was aware of, he want- 
 ed men to make up his ambuscade. 
 
 Having placed what men he had, he took Major 
 Sanford by the hand, and said, "Sir, I have so 
 placed them that it is scarce possible Philip should 
 escape them." The same moment a shot whistled 
 over their heads, and then the noise of a gun towards 
 Philip's camp. Captain Church, at first, thought 
 that it might be some gun fired by accident; but 
 before he could speak, a whole volley followed, 
 which was earlier than he expected. One of Philip's 
 gang going forth to ease himself, when he had done, 
 looked round him, and Captain Golding thought that 
 the Indian looked right at him, (though probabl}' it 
 was but his conceit) so fired at him; and upon his 
 firing, the whole company that were with him fired 
 upon the enemy's shelter, before the Indians had 
 time to rise from their sleep, and so over shot them. 
 But their shelter was open on that side next the 
 swamp, built so on purpose for the convenience of 
 flight on occasion. They were soon in the swamp, 
 and Philip the foremost, who starting at the first 
 gun, threw his pelunk and powderhorn over his 
 head, catched up his gun, and ran as fast as he could 
 scamper, without any more clothes than his small 
 breeches and stockings ; and ran directly on two of 
 Captain Church's ambush. They let him come fair 
 within shot, and the Englishman's gun missing fire, 
 he bid the Indian fire away, and he did so to the 
 purpose; sent one musket bullet through his heart, 
 and another not above two inches from it. He fell 
 upon his face in the mud and water, with his gun 
 under him. 
 
 By this time the enemy perceived that they were 
 waylaid on the east side of the swamp, and tacked 
 short about. One of the enemy, who seemed to be 
 a great, surly old fellow, hallooed with a loud voice, 
 and often called out, " lootaxh, Tootash." Captain 
 Church called to his Indian, Peter, and asked him, 
 who that was that called so? He answered, that it 
 was old Annawon, Philip's great Captain; calling 
 on his soldiers to stand to it, and fight stoutly. Now 
 the enemy finding that place of the swamp which 
 was not ambushed, many of them made their escape 
 in the English tracks. 
 
 The man that had shot down Philip, ran with all 
 speed to Captain Church, and informed him of his 
 exploit, who commanded him to be silent about it 
 and let no man more know it, until they had driven 
 the swamp clean. But when they had driven the 
 swamp through, and found that the enemy had 
 escaped, or at least, the most of them, and the sun 
 
 now up, and so the dew gone, that they could not 
 easily track them, the whole company met together 
 at the place where the enemy's night shelter was, 
 and then Captain Church gave them the news of 
 Philip's death. Upon which the whole army gave 
 three loud huzzas. 
 
 Captain Church ordered his body to be pulled out 
 of the mire to the upland. So some of Captain 
 Church's Indians took hold of him by his stockings, 
 and some by his small breeches (being otherwise 
 naked) and drew him through the mud to the up- 
 land ; and a doleful, great, naked, dirty beast he 
 looked like. Captain Church then said, that foras- 
 much as he had caused many an Englishman's body 
 to be unburied, and to rot above ground, that not 
 one of his bones should be buried. And calling his 
 old Indian executioner, bid him behead and quarter 
 him. 
 
 DAVID BEAINERD. 
 
 David Braixf.rd, the missionary to the Indians, 
 was born at Iladdam, Conn., April 20, 1718. He 
 lost his father, a member of the council of the 
 colony, when he was but nine years old, and his 
 mother five years after. He early displayed a 
 deep sense of religious obligation, combined with 
 
 great dread of future punishment. He dates his 
 partial relief from the terrible - fears which tor- 
 mented his existence, from the night of July 12, 
 1739; but he was throughout life subject to fits 
 of deep despondency. 
 
 In September of the same year, he entered 
 Yale College, where he devoted himself so ear- 
 nestly to his studies that his feeble frame broke 
 down under his labor. His life was for some 
 weeks despaired of, but after a long interval of 
 
 I rest, he was enabled to resume his studies in the 
 autumn. Not content with his bodily sufferings, 
 his journal shows that he reproached himself 
 severely for a sinful ambition to stand high as 
 a scholar. 
 About this time^Vhitefield visited New England. 
 
 J An excitable temperament like Brainerd's was 
 one likely to be affected by the system which he 
 introduced. A powerful religious excitement 
 spread through the college, which was discoun- 
 tenanced by its heads. Brainerd was overheard 
 to say that one of the tutors " had no more grace 
 than a chair ;" and was, for this slight offence, 
 expelled from the college, lie afterwards acknow- 
 ledged his fault of hasty speech, but always felt 
 the unjust severity with which he had been 
 treated. 
 
 He immediately commenced the study of divin- 
 ity, and in the summer of the same year received 
 a license to preach from the association of minis- 
 ters at Danbury. His ardent desire was to 
 become a missionary among the Indians, and he 
 commenced his labors among a small and 
 wretched community of that race at Kent, on 
 the borders of Connecticut. In November he 
 received an invitation from the Correspondents, 
 at New York, of the Society for Promoting 
 Christian Knowledge — an association formed in 
 Scotland — to become their missionary to the 
 Indians, He accepted the apuointment, after 
 
DAVID BRAINERD. 
 
 141 
 
 some hesitation, arising from his usual over 
 modest distrust of his own ability, and com- 
 menced his labors at Kanaumeek, an Indian village 
 about half way between Stbckbridge and Albany. 
 His first act was to devote his small patrimony to 
 the support of a* young friend in the ministry, 
 relying himself entirely upon his missionary 
 allowance to supply his simple wants. 
 
 He arrived among the Indians April 1, 1743, 
 weak ill body from the consumption, which, 
 aggravated by exposure, soon after ended his life. 
 He found shelter in the log hut of a poor Scotch- 
 man, where he lived on hasty pudding, boiled 
 corn, and bread baked in the ashes. Finding this 
 residence too far from the Indians, he built, with 
 his own hands, a log hut among their wigwams. 
 He not long afterwards made a journey to New 
 Haven, for the purpose of making a humble apo- 
 logy to the college authorities for his old offence. 
 He craved pardon in these humble and self-accus- 
 ing terms : — 
 
 Whereas, I have said before several persons con- 
 cerning ilr. Whittlesey, one of the tutors of Yale 
 College, that I did not believe he had any more 
 grace than the chair I then leaned upon; I humbly 
 confess, that herein I have sinned against God, and 
 acted contrary to the rules of his word, and have 
 injured Mr. Whittlesey. I had no right to make 
 thus free with his character, and had no just reason 
 to say as I did concerning him. My fault herein 
 was the more aggravated, in that I said this concern- 
 ing one who was so much my superior, and one that 
 I was obliged to treat with special respect and honor, 
 by reason of the relation I then stood in to the col- 
 lege. Such a behavior, I confess, did not become a 
 Christian; it was taking too much upon me, and did 
 not savor of that humble respect that I ought to 
 have expressed towards Mr. Whittlesey. ... I have 
 often reflected on this act with grief; I hope, on 
 account of the sin of it ; and am willing to lie low 
 and to be abased before God and man for it. I 
 humbly ask the forgiveness of the governors of the 
 college, and of the whole society; but of Mr. Whit- 
 tlesey in particular. . . And whether the governors 
 of the college shall see fit to remove the censure I 
 lie under or not, or to admit me to the privileges I 
 desire ; yet I am willing to appear, if they think fit, 
 openly to own, and to humble mj'self for those 
 things I have herein confessed. 
 
 But the only conditions which the college 
 authorities would offer, were, that if he would 
 return and remain a year under their jurisdiction, 
 they might allow him a degree. These terms he 
 could not accept without relinquishing his duties, 
 and he consequently did not receive the honors 
 of the institution. 
 
 After some months passed at his station, he 
 became, convinced that it was his duty to remove 
 to Indians who were not in constant proximity to 
 the whites, a circumstance which impeded and 
 almost neutralized his efforts. Their position near 
 the French frontier was also a source of distrac- 
 tion. If his present charge could bo induced to 
 remove to Stockbridge, they would be under the 
 care of a pastor who knew their wants and would 
 do all that could be done for them. This removal 
 Brainerd proposed, and it is a significant proof 
 of the influence he had acquired over them that 
 they gave a ready assent. 
 
 This being arranged, the missionary was urgently 
 
 pressed to become the pastor of the pleasant 
 and flourishing village of East Hampton, Long 
 Island. The people of that place represented to 
 him " that he might be useful to them for many 
 years, while he would soon sink under the hard- 
 ships of his mission, as the winter he had passed 
 at Kanaumeek abundantly proved."* 
 
 His purpose was not to be changed by promise 
 of ease or prospect of death, and he was soon 
 after a wearisome journey at his new post, Cross- 
 waksung, at the Forks of the Delaware. After 
 months of diligent and patient labor, he succeeded 
 in converting some of the red men to Christi- 
 anity. He persuaded them to remove from the 
 immediate neighborhood of the whites to a place 
 called Cranberry, fifteen miles distant, and form 
 an independent settlement. He then, believing it 
 his duty to seek a new audience, penetrated still 
 further into the wilderness, to the Susquehanna. 
 The journey proved too much for his enfeebled 
 constitution. He returned to Cranberry ex- 
 hausted, and after instructing from his chair, and 
 being carried to the place of meeting to adminis- 
 ter the sacrament, felt it his duty to seek rest, or, 
 in his own words, "consume some time in diver- 
 sions.'"t He was compelled to halt at Elizabeth- 
 town, where he was for some time confined to 
 his bed. He was gratified while here by the 
 arrival of his brother, on his way to join or suc- 
 ceed him in his missionary enterprise. 
 
 In April, 1747, he at length reached North- 
 ampton, Massachusetts, where he was received 
 into the family of the Eev. Jonathan Edwards, 
 afterwards President of Yale College. He visited 
 this place for the purpose of consulting the phy- 
 sician, Mather, who decided his case to be hope- 
 less, but advised the exercise of riding as the 
 best means of alleviating his disorder. 
 
 His friends recommended him to go to Boston, 
 and Jerusha, the daughter of Edwards, a young 
 lady of eighteen, accompanying him, as her 
 father simply expresses it, " to be helpful to him 
 in his weak and low state. "J: 
 
 He received much attention in Boston, where 
 he was for some time at the point of death. He 
 was visited by those who sympathized with his 
 mission, and was instrumental in the collection 
 of funds for the promotion of its objects. 
 
 He returned to Northampton in July, and after 
 great suffering in the final stages of his disease, 
 died on the ninth of October, 1747. To the last, 
 his attached and faithful nurse " chiefly attended 
 him."§ 
 
 * Life of Brainerd, by W". B. O. Peabody, in Sparks's Am 
 Biog. viii. 30U. 
 
 t Peabody's Life, p. 356. 
 
 1 Memoirs of Brainerd. by Edwards, p. 400. 
 
 § Tbe brief and beautiful career of this young lady is con- 
 cisely and leeliugly given in tbe following note by her father. 
 
 "Since this, it has pleased a holy and sovereign God to take 
 away this my dear child by death, on the 14th of February, 
 next following, after a short illness of five days, in the eight- 
 eenth year of her age. She was a person of much the same 
 spirit with Brainerd. She had constantly taken care of, and 
 attended him in his sickness, for nineteen weeks before his 
 death ; devoting herself to it with great delight, because sho 
 looked on him as an eminent servant of Jesus Christ. In this 
 time, he had much conversation with her on the things of 
 religion ; and in his dying state, often expressed to us, her 
 parents, his great satisfaction concerning her true piety, and his 
 confidence that he should meet her in heaven, and his high 
 opinion of her, not only as a true Christian, but a very eminent 
 saint: one whose soul was uncommonly fed and entertained 
 with things which appertain to the most spiritual, experimen- 
 
142 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The society by whom Brainerd was employed 
 published, in 1746, Mirabilia Dei inter Indicos;* 
 or the Rise and Progress of a remarkable Work 
 of Grace among a number of the Indians of New 
 Jersey and Pennsylvania. 
 
 The volume contains extracts from the journal 
 of his labors, forwarded by him, commencing 
 with his residence at Crossweeksung, June 19th, 
 and extending to November 4th, 1749. A second 
 part, entitled Ditine Grace Displayed,\ cover- 
 ing the period from November 24th, 1745, to 
 June 19th, 1746, was published a few months 
 after. 
 
 His friend Edwards preached his funeral ser- 
 mon, and, in 1749, published his life, chiefly 
 composed of extracts from the minute private 
 diary kept by Brainerd, in addition to his pub- 
 lished journals, throughout his career, the last 
 entry in it being dated only seven days before his 
 death. It is a curious record of spiritual expe- 
 rience, tinged by a melancholy temperament, 
 increased by a life which, although an active one, 
 was passed in a great measure in a virtual soli- 
 tude. 
 
 That his biographer was aware of the dangers 
 with which a constant study of self is attended, 
 is evident from his citation of the following 
 passage by Thomas Shepard : — 
 
 I have known one very able, wise, and godly, put 
 upon the rack by him, who, envying God's people's 
 peace, knows how to change himself into an angel 
 of light , for it being his usual course, in the time 
 of his health, to make a diary of his hourly life, 
 and fimling much benefit by it, he was in conscience 
 pressed by the power and delusion of Satan, to make 
 and take the same daily survey of his life in the 
 time of his sickness ; by means of which, he spent 
 his enfeebled spirits, and cast on fuel to fire his 
 sickness. Had not a friend of his convinced him of 
 his erroneous conscience misleading him at that 
 time, he had murdered his body, out of conscience 
 to save his soul, and to preserve his grace. 
 
 The diary, however, forms a beautiful memo- 
 rial of a life of self-sacrifice and devotion, of the 
 pursuit of missionary enterprise among an unim- 
 pressible and savage people, whose minds he 
 could only approach through the medium of an 
 
 tal, and distinguishing parts of religion : and one who. by the 
 temper of her mind, was fitted to deny herself for God. and to 
 do good, beyond any young woman whatsoever, whom he 
 knew. She had manifested a heart uncommonly devoted to 
 God, in the course of her life, many years before her death ; 
 and said on her death-bed, that tl she had not seen one minute 
 for several years, wherein she desired to live one minute 
 longer, for the sake of any other good in life, but doing good, 
 living to God. and doing what might be for his glory.' 1 
 
 * Mirabilia Dei iuter Indicos: or the Rise and Progress of a 
 remarkable Work of Grace, among a number of the Indians, in 
 the Province of New Jersey and Pennsylvania; justly repre- 
 sented in a Journal, kept by order of the Honourable Society 
 in Scotland for propagating Christian Knowledge ; with some 
 General Remarks; by David Braineed, Minister of the Gos- 
 pel, and Missionary from the said Society : published by the 
 Reverend and Worthy Correspondents of the said Society; 
 with a Preface by them. 
 
 + Divine Grace Displayed ; or the Continuance and Progress 
 of a remarkable Work of Grace among some of the Indians 
 belonging to the Provinces of New Jersey anfWPennsylvania; 
 justly represented in a Journal kept by order of the Hon- 
 ourable Society in Scotland for propagating Christian Know- 
 ledge: with some General Remarks; to which is subjoined an 
 Appendix, containing some account of sundry things, and 
 especially of the Difficulties attending the Work of "a Mis- 
 sionary among the Indians; by David Brainerd, Minister of 
 the Gospel, and Missionary from the said Society : published 
 by the Reverend and Worthy Correspondents ot the said 
 Society. 
 
 interpreter, as, although he bestowed much labor 
 on the effort, he never thoroughly mastered their 
 language. His journal bears no record of his 
 bodily sufferings, but we know that he went to 
 his task with a frame wasted by consumption, and 
 pursued his painful journeys in all weathers, 
 undisturbed by the unmistakable premonitions of 
 death which accompanied his disease. He rode 
 through the woods, raising blood and parched 
 with fever, and his rest in the rude hut or wigwam 
 was accompanied by wasting night-sweats, and 
 yet, with all this, he was constantly reproaching 
 himself for want of exertion. 
 
 The diary is not as full as could be desired in 
 relation to his intercourse with the Indians, but 
 is sufficiently so to show that he pursued a wise 
 and judicious course in his ministry. 
 
 The pervading spirit of Brainerd's Journal is 
 eloquently described by Edwards : — 
 
 I have had occasion to read his diary over and 
 over, and very particularly and critically to review 
 every passage in it; and I find no one instance of a 
 strong impression on his imagination, through his 
 whole life ; no instance of a strongly impressed idea 
 of any external glory and brightness, of any bodily 
 form or shape, any beautiful majestic countenance. 
 There is no imaginary sight of Christ hanging on 
 the cross with his blood streaming from his wounds; 
 or seated in heaven on a bright throne, with angels 
 and saints bowing before him ; or with a counte- 
 nance smiling on him ; or arms open to embrace 
 him : no sight of heaven, in his imagination, with 
 gates of pearl, and golden streets, and vast multi- 
 tudes of glorious inhabitants, with shining garments. 
 There is no sight of the book of life opened, with 
 his name written in it ; no hearing of the sweet 
 music made by the songs of heavenly hosts; no 
 hearing God or Christ immediately speaking to him; 
 nor any sudden suggestions of words or sentences, 
 either oi scripture or any other, as then immediately 
 spoken or sent to him ; no new objective revela- 
 tions ; no sudden strong suggestions of secret facts. 
 Nor do I find any one instance in all the records 
 which he has left of his own life, from beginning to 
 end, of joy excited from a supposed immediate wit- 
 ness of the Spirit ; or inward immediate suggestion, 
 that his state was surely good, that God loved him 
 with an everlasting love, that Christ died for him 
 in particular, and that heaven was his ; either with 
 or without a text of scripture. There is no instance 
 of comfort from any sudden suggestion to liis mind, 
 as though at that very time directed by God to him 
 in particular, of any such texts as these ; " Fear 
 not; I am with thee;" — "It is your Father's gpod 
 pleasure to give you the kingdom ;" — " You have 
 not chosen me, but I have chosen you ;" — " I have 
 called thee by thy name, thou art mine;" — " Before 
 thou wast formed in the belly, I knew thee," <fce. 
 There is no supposed communion and conversation 
 with God carried on in this way ; nor any such sup- 
 posed tasting of the love of Christ. But the way in 
 which he was satisfied of his own good estate, even to 
 the entire abolishing of fear, was by feeling within 
 himself the lively actings of a holy temper and 
 heavenly disposition, the vigorous exercises of that 
 divine love which casteth out fear. 
 
 Edwards's Life was abridged by John Wesley, 
 and published in England. . A second and smaller 
 abridgment was made by John Styles. In 1822, 
 the original work was printed at New Haven, 
 with the addition of the Journals published 
 during Brainerd's lifetime, and which were 
 
JAMES McSPARRAN. 
 
 143 
 
 omitted by Edwards as being already accessible 
 to the public, under the editorship of Sereuo 
 Edwards Dwight* 
 
 INDIAN SUPERSTITION. ' 
 
 "When I was in this regiouf in May last, I had an 
 opportunity of learning many of the notions and 
 customs of the Indians, as well as observing many 
 of their practices. I then travelled more than au 
 hundred and thirty miles upon, the river, above the 
 English settlements ; and, in that journey, met with 
 individuals of seven or eight distinct tribes, speak- 
 ing as many different languages. But of all the 
 sights I ever saw among them, or indeed any where 
 else, none appeared so frightful, or so near a kin to 
 what is usually imagined of infernal powers, none 
 ever excited such images of terror in my mind, as 
 the appearance of one who was a devout and zealous 
 Reformer, or rather, restorer of what he supposed 
 was the ancient religion of the Indians. He made 
 his appearance in his pontifical aarb, which was a 
 coat of boar skins, dressed with the hair on, and 
 hanging down to his toes ; a pair of bear skin stock- 
 ings ; and a great wooden face painted, the one half 
 black, the other half tawny, about the colour of an 
 Indian's skin, with au extravagant mouth, cut very 
 much awry; the face fastened to a bear skin cap, 
 which was drawn over his head. He advanced 
 towards me with the instrument in his hand, which 
 he used for music in his idolatrous worship ; which 
 was a dry tortoise shell with some corn in it, and the 
 neck of it drawn on to a piece of wood, which made 
 a very convenient handle. As he came forward, he 
 beat his tune with the rattle, ami danced with all 
 his might, but did not suffer any part of his body, 
 not so much as his fingers, to be seen. No one 
 would have imagined from his appearance or actions, 
 that he could have been a human creature, if they 
 had not had some intimation of it otherwise. 
 When he came near me, I could not but shrink away 
 from him, although it was then noon day, and I 
 knew who it was ; his appearance and gestures 
 were so prodigiously frightful. He had a house 
 consecrated to religious uses, with divers images cut 
 upon the several parts of it. I went in, and found 
 the ground beat almost as hard as a rock, with their 
 frequent dancing upon it. I discoursed with him 
 about Christianity. Some of my discourse he 
 seemed to like, but some of it he disliked extremely. 
 He told me that God had taught him his religion, 
 and that he never would turn from it ; but wanted 
 to find some who would join heartily with him in 
 it ; for the Indians, he said, were grown very dege- 
 nerate and corrupt. He had thoughts, he said, of 
 leaving all his friends, and travelling abroad, in 
 order to find some who would join with him ; for 
 lie believed that God had some good people some 
 where, who felt as he did. He had not always, he 
 said, felt as he now did ; but had formerly been like 
 the rest of the Indians, until about four or five years 
 before that time. Then, he said, his heart was very 
 much distressed, so that he could not live among the 
 Indians, but got away into the woods, and lived 
 alone for some months. At length, he says, God 
 comforted his heart, and showed him what lie should 
 do ; and since that time he had known God, and 
 
 * Memoirs of tho Eev. David Brainerd : Missionary to the 
 Indiaus on the borders of New York, New Jersey, and Penn- 
 sylvania: chiefly taken from his own Diary. By Iiev. Jona- 
 than Edwards, of Northampton. Including his Journal, now 
 for the first time incorporated with the rest of his Diary, in a 
 regular Chronological series. By Sereno Edwards Dwight. 
 New-Haven: Printed and published by 3. Converse. 1822. 
 
 t Sbaumokung, on the Susquehanna. 
 
 tried to serve him ; and loved all men, be they who 
 they would, so as he never did before. He treated 
 me with uncommon courtesy, and seemed to be 
 hearty in it. I was told by the Indians, that he 
 opposed their drinking strong liquor with all his 
 power ; and that, if at any time he could not dis- 
 suade them from it by all he could say, he would 
 leave them, and go crying into the woods. It was 
 manifest that he had a set of religious notions which 
 he had examined for himself, and not taken for 
 granted, upon bare tradition ; and he relished or 
 disrelished whatever was spoken of a religious 
 nature, as it either agreed or disagreed with Ms 
 standard. While 1 was discoursing, he would some- 
 times say, " Now that I like ; so God has taught 
 me ;" tfec, and some of his sentiments seemed very 
 just. Yet he utterly denied the existence of a 
 devil, and declared there was no such creature 
 known among the Indians of old times, whose reli- 
 gion he supposed he was attempting to revive. He 
 likewise told me, that departed souls all went south- 
 ward, and that the difference between the good and 
 the bad, was this : that the former were admitted 
 into a beautiful town with spiritual walls ; and that 
 the latter would for ever hover around these walls, 
 in vain attempts to get in. He seemed to be sin- 
 cere, honest, and conscientious in his own way, and 
 according to his own religious notions ; which was 
 more than I ever saw in any other Pagan. I per- 
 ceived that he was looked upon and derided among 
 most of the Indians, as a precise zealot, who made a 
 needless noise about religious matters; but I must 
 say that there was something in his temper and dis- 
 position, which looked more like true religion, than 
 any thing I ever observed amongst other heathens. 
 
 But alas ! how deplorable is the state of the In- 
 dians upon this river I The brief representation 
 which I have here given of their notions and man- 
 ners, is sufficient to show that they are " led captive 
 by Satan at his will," in tlie most eminent manner ; 
 and methiuks might likewise be sufficient to excite 
 the compassion, and engage the prayers, of pious 
 souls for these their fellow-men, who sit " in the 
 regions of the shadow of death." 
 
 JAMES McSPAPvEAN. 
 The Rev. James McSpaeran, of the church of 
 Narraghansett, was one of the pioneer band of 
 English clergymen whose influence is often to be 
 noticed in cementing the foundations of Ameri- 
 can progress. His family was from the north of 
 Ireland, having emigrated from Scotland. He 
 had a good classical education, and came a mis- 
 sionary to Narraghansett, in Rhode Island, from 
 the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in 
 Foreign Parts, in 1721 . The next year lie married 
 Miss Harriet Gardiner, a lady of the place. Ho 
 was intimate with Berkeley during the residence 
 of the Dean at Newport. In 1736, he visited 
 England, and returned with the title of Doctor of 
 Divinity, from Glasgow. His pulpit exercises in 
 the church of St. Paul's were of an eloquent cha- 
 racter, if we may judge from the sermon which 
 he delivered on the loth March, 1740, when war, 
 pestilence, and an unusually protracted and severe 
 winter oppressed the country.* In 1747, he 
 preached tin eloquent sermon before the conven- 
 tion of the Episcopal clergy, in Trinity Church, 
 Newport, which was printed. He asserted the 
 
 * Large portions of the sermon are printed in Updike's Hist 
 Narr. Ch. 191-201. 
 
Hi 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 claims of his Episcopal order in another dis- 
 course which was printed at Newport, in 1751, 
 The Sacred Dignity of the Christian Priesthood 
 Vindicated. In 1752, he wrote an historical 
 tract of merit, America Dissected, which was 
 published at Dublin, in 1753. It is in three letters 
 giving an account of the "English American 
 Dominions," beginning with the Bermudas and 
 Georgia, and proceeding northerly to Newfound- 
 land.* It was his intention to publish an extended 
 history of the colonies, especially of New Eng- 
 land ; and it was supposed he had completed a 
 history of the Narraghansett country, but no 
 such work has been found among his papers. 
 He died at his house, in South Ejngstown, Dec. 1, 
 1757, having sustained manfully a career of many 
 difficulties. 
 
 TEE COLD wrNTKR, 1740-1. 
 
 The elements have been armed with such piercing 
 cold and suffocating snows, as if God intended the 
 air that he gave us to live and breathe in should 
 become the instrument to execute his vengeance on 
 us, for our ingratitude to his goodness, and our 
 transgression of his law. We may contemplate to 
 our comfort the wisdom and power of God in the 
 beautiful structure of the heavens, and his wise 
 sorting of the seasons, for the benefit and delight of 
 man. But as no human skill can count the number 
 of the stars, nor call them by their names, so exceeds 
 the utmost art of astronomy, for either extreme heat 
 or extreme cold, otherwise than by the distance of 
 the sun ; yet what we see have variations and vicis- 
 situdes that do not always correspond to that cause. 
 It is no small comfort to consider God's care to pro- 
 vide food for the beasts of the field and the fowls of 
 the air, and to supply their starving importunity. 
 And our gratitude grows, as we are assured all this 
 is ultimately intended as a kindness and bounty for 
 the souls of men. But how, of late, has the grazier 
 groaned to see the severity of the season, to hear 
 his herds and his flocks making moan for their meat; 
 and after a few fruitless complaints uttered in 
 accents peculiar to their kind, drop down and die, 
 and disappoint the increase and expectation of the 
 spring. 
 
 With what amazement do we behold and can ill 
 endure God's sudden and intolerable cold, that pro- 
 ceeds from the breath of his nostrils ! The snow 
 that looks so white, innocent, and light, as if it 
 would bear down and oppress nothing, yet we see 
 it hides and covers the earth from the warmth and 
 light of the sun ; and thus does also the ice turn 
 rivers into rocks, and the 6ea (as it were) into dry 
 land. We see the fluid element, which yielded to 
 the smallest force, become so hard and rigid, that it 
 resists the impression of the traveller's foot, and the 
 weight of beasts and burthens with a firmness 
 superior to the driest land. 
 
 Boreas has so far entered into the chambers of the 
 south, that he hath sealed up the sun and inter- 
 cepted his dissolving influence ; and southern snow T s 
 are signs of that planet's impotent efforts to regain 
 his usurped dominions. The great luminary that 
 rules the day, has now advanced and displayed his 
 banner on this side of the Line, yet so faint are his 
 armies, though innumerable, and each atom har- 
 nessed in fire, that they cannot force the frost to 
 give ground, nor dissolve the intrenchrnent of snow. 
 No arm that is not almighty can melt or open what 
 
 * It is printed at the close of Updike's Hist. Nan. Ch. 483- 
 588. 
 
 Orion has shut up, bound in bands, and hardened; 
 or freeze and make fast what the Pleiades have 
 loosed and softened; the first being the eonstella^ 
 tion, which in the Omnipotent's hands beget and 
 begin the winter ; as the other are the orbs that 
 attend the advancing Spring. 
 
 How many sad remembrances do remain, to 
 remind us of the past, winter-? The husbandman 
 and the mariner, the rich and the poor, have already 
 sensibly felt its bad effects, and though the dissolved 
 rivers have opened their mouths, returned to their 
 channels, and offer their usual administrations to 
 navigation, fishing and commerce; yet alas! are not 
 the cattle now corrupting in the fields, and that 
 after they have consumed most of the corn that 
 might have maintained us to that time ? 
 
 Famine of food, which though (blessed be God,) 
 we do not yet feel, we have, notwithstanding, some 
 reason to fear. Whatever second causes concur to 
 occasion a scarcity of food, nature becomes the 
 hungry man's executioner and tormenter, racking 
 him with an impatient and importunate appetite, 
 when there is nothing to allay or relieve it. 
 
 JONATHAN MATTHEW. 
 
 Jonathan Matiiew, a great-grandson of Thomas 
 Mayhew, the first minister at Martha's Vineyard, 
 was born on that island, where his father main- 
 tained the ministry which had been held in his 
 family since the time of the progenitor of whom we 
 have spoken, October 8, 1720. He was graduated 
 with distinction at Harvard, in 1744, and in 1747 
 was ordained pastor of the west church, in Bos- 
 ton, where he remained until his death, on the 
 ninth of July, 1766. 
 
 On the 30th January, 1750, he preached a ser- 
 mon bearing on the execution of Charles I., which 
 was remarkable for its independent views on the 
 duties of rulers ana the limits of allegiance. 
 
 In 1763, the Rev. East Apthorpe,* one of the 
 Missionaries of the Society for the Propagation 
 of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, published " Con- 
 siderations on the Institution and Conduct " of 
 that society, in reply to an attack upon it which 
 had appeared in a local journal, after the death 
 of the society's missionary at Braintree, charging 
 the association with a departure from its duties 
 in supporting a clergyman of the English Church 
 in a settlement where other provision for religious 
 instruction had been made. His pamphlet was 
 taken up by Dr. Mayhew, who published Ob- 
 servations on the Charter and Conduct of the 
 society. A controversy ensued in which many 
 of the New England clergy took part, the anti- 
 cipated introduction of bishops naturally height- 
 ening the warmth of the discussion on both sides 
 of the question. 
 
 Dr. Mayhew early embraced the popular side 
 in the revolutionary struggle, and took an active 
 part in the movements which preceded the con- 
 
 * East Apthorpe, the son of Charles Apthorpe, a merchant 
 of Boston, was born in 1733, and educated at Jesus College, 
 Cambridge, England. He was appointed, in 1761, missionary 
 at Cambridge, Mass., by the Society for Propagating the Gospel 
 in Foreign Parts. He returned not long after to England ; was 
 made vicar of Croydon, in 1765 ; rector of Eowchurch, London, 
 in 1778; and in 179D, having become blind, exchanged these 
 livings for a prebendary's stall. He passed the last years of his 
 life at Cambridge. England, where he died, April 10, 1S1G. In 
 addition to his "productions on the Episcopal controversy, he 
 was the author of Discourses on Prophecy, at the Warburton 
 lecture, Lincoln's Inn, 2 vols., London, and an answer to Gib- 
 bon's account of the causes of the spread of early Christianity. 
 
JONATHAN MAYHEW. 
 
 145 
 
 test, by his discourses and personal influence. His 
 sermon on the Repeal of the Stamp Act, in 1766, 
 
 shows that he brought all his energy to the service 
 of his country, and in common with his numerous 
 other printed discourses, displays vigor of mind 
 and eloquence. 
 
 A " Memoir of the Life and Writings of Rev. 
 Jonathan Mayhew, D.D., by Alden Bradford," 
 appeared at Boston, in 1838. 
 
 In his theological views he differed from the 
 majority of his Congregational brethren, inclining 
 to those of the Unitarians. 
 
 PROM "THE 6NAP.E BROKEN,' 1 A TIIANKSOIVTNG DISCOURSE 
 PREACHED AT THE DESIRE OF THE WEST CHURCH IN BOSTON, 
 N. E., FRIDAY, MAY 23, 17G6; OCCASIONED BY THE REPEAL 
 OF THE STAMP ACT. 
 
 Brethren, ye have been called unto Liberty; only use not 
 Liberty for an occasion to the Jlesh, but by love serve one- 
 another. — Ap. Paul. 
 
 We have never known so quick and general a 
 transition from the depth of sorrow to the height of 
 joy, as on this occasion ; nor, indeed, so great and 
 universal a flow of either, on any other occasion 
 whatever. It is very true, we have heretofore seen 
 times of great adversity. We have known seasons 
 of drought, dearth and spreading mortal diseases; 
 the pestilence walking in darkness, and the destruc- 
 tion wasting at noonday. We have seen wide de- 
 vastations made by fire; and amazing tempests, the 
 heavens on flame, the winds and the waves roaring. 
 We have known repeated earthquakes, threatening 
 us witli speedy destruction. We have been under 
 great apprehensions by reason of formidable fleets 
 of an enemy on our coasts, menacing fire and sword 
 to all our maritime towns. We have known times 
 when the French and Savage armies made terrible 
 havoek on our frontiers, carrying all before them for 
 a while ; when we were not without fear, that some 
 capital towns in the colonies would fall into their 
 merciless hands. Such times as these we have 
 known ; at some of which almost every " face ga- 
 thered paleness," and the knees of all but the good 
 and brave, waxed feeble. But never have we known 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
 a season of such universal consternation and anxiety 
 among people of all ranks and ages, in these colonies, 
 as was occasioned by that parliamentary procedure, 
 which threatened us and our posterity with perpe- 
 tual bondage and slavery. For they, as we gene- 
 rally suppose, are really slaves to all intents and 
 purposes, who are obliged to labor and toil only for 
 the benefit of others; or, which comes to the same 
 thing, the fruit of whose labor and industry may be 
 lawfully taken from them without their consent, and 
 they justly punished if they refuse to surrender it on 
 demand, or apply it to other purposes than those, 
 which their masters, of their mere grace and plea- 
 sure, see fit to allow. Nor are there many American. 
 understandings acute enough to distinguish any ma- 
 terial difference between this being done by a single 
 person, under the title of an absolute monarch, and 
 done by a far-distant legislature consisting of many 
 persons, in which they are not represented; and the 
 members whereof, instead of feeling, and sharing 
 equally with them in the burden thus imposed, are 
 eased of their own in proportion to the greatness and 
 weight of it. It may be questioned, whether the 
 ancient Greeks or Romans, or any other nation in 
 which slavery was allowed, carried their idea of it 
 much farther than this. So that our late apprehen- 
 sions, and universal consternation, on account of 
 !" ourselves and posterity, were far, very far indeed, 
 from being groundless. For what is there in this 
 world more wretched, than for those who were born 
 free, and have a right to continue so, to be made 
 slaves themselves, and to think of leaving a race of 
 slaves behind them ; even though it be to masters, 
 confessedly the most humane and generous in the 
 world! Or what wonder is it, if after groaning 
 with a low voice for a while to no purpose, we at 
 length groaned so loudly, as to be heard more than 
 three thousand miles ; and to be pitied throughout 
 Europe, wherever it is not. hazardous to mention 
 even the name of liberty, unless it be to reproach it, 
 as only another name for sedition, faction or rebel- 
 lion? 
 
 ****** 
 
 The repeal, the repeal, has at once, in a good 
 measure, restored things to order, and composed our 
 minds by removing the chief ground of our fears. 
 The course of justice between man and man is no 
 longer obstructed ; commerce lifts up her head, 
 adorned with golden tresses, pearls, and precious 
 stones. All things that went on right before are re- 
 turning gradually to their former course ; those that 
 did not we have reason to hope will go on better 
 now ; almost every person you meet wears the smiles 
 of contentment and joy ; and even our slaves rejoice 
 as though they had received their manumission. In- 
 deed, all the lovers of liberty in Europe, in the 
 world, have reason to rejoice; the cause is, in some 
 measure, common to them and us. Blessed revolu- 
 tion ! glorious change! How great are our obliga- 
 tions for it to the Supreme Governor of the world ! 
 He hath given us beauty for ashes, and the oil of 
 gladness for the spirit of heaviness. He hath turned 
 our groans into songs, our mourning into dancing. 
 He hath put off our sackcloth, and girded us with 
 gladness, to the end that our tongues, our glory may 
 sing praises to him. Let us all, then, rejoice in the 
 Lord, and give honor to him ; not forgetting to add 
 the obedience of our lives, as the best sacrifice that 
 we can offer to Heaven ; and which, if neglected, 
 will prove all our other sacrifices have been but 
 ostentation and hypocrisy, which are an abomina- 
 tion to the Lord. 
 
 If I may be indidged here in saying a few words 
 
UG 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.' 
 
 more, respecting my notions of liberty in general, 
 Bueh as they are, it shall be as fellows : 
 
 Having been initiated in youth in the doctrines 
 of civil liberty, as they were taught by such men as 
 Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero, and other renowned 
 persons among the ancients; and such as Sidney and 
 Milton, Locke and Hoadley, among the moderns; I 
 liked them; they seemed rational. Having earlier 
 still learned from the Holy Scriptures, that wise, 
 brave, and virtuous men were always friends to 
 liberty; that God gave the Israelites a king [or ab- 
 solute monarch] in his anger, because they had not 
 sense and virtue enough to like a free common- 
 wealth, and to have himself for their king ; that the 
 Son of God came down from heaven to make us 
 " free indeed ;" and that " where the Spirit of the 
 Lord is, there is liberty ;" this made me conclude 
 that freedom was a great blessing. Having, also, 
 from my childhood up, by the kind providence of 
 my God, and the tender care of a good parent now 
 at rest with Him, been educated to the love of 
 liberty, though not of licentiousness; which chaste 
 and virtuous passion was still increased in me, as I 
 advanced towards and into manhood ; I would not, 
 I cannot now, though past middle age, relinquish 
 the fair object of my youthful affection, Liberty, 
 whose charms, instead of decaying with time in my 
 eyes, have daily captivated me more and more. I 
 was accordingly penetrated with the most sensible 
 grief, when, about the first of November last, that 
 day of darkness, a day hardly to be numbered with 
 the other days of the year, she seemed about to take 
 her final departure from America, and to leave that 
 ugly hag, Slavery, the deformed child of Satan, in 
 her room. I am now filled with a proportionable 
 degree of joy in God, on occasion of her speedy re- 
 turn, with new smiles on her face, with augmented 
 beauty and splendor. — Once more, then, Hail! ce- 
 lestial maid, the daughter of God, and, excepting 
 his iron, the firstborn of heaven ! Welcome to these 
 shores again; welcome to every expanding heart! 
 Long mayest thou reside among us, the delight of 
 the wise, good, and brave ; the protectress of inno- 
 cence from wrongs and opprcs ion ; the patroness of 
 learning, arts, eloquence, virtue, rational loyalty, 
 religion ! And if any miserable people on the con- 
 tinent or isles of Europe, after being weakened by 
 luxury, debauchery, venality, intestine quarrels, or 
 other vices, should, in the rude collisions, or now- 
 uncertain revolutions of kingdoms, be driven, in 
 their extremity, to seek a safe retreat from slavery 
 in some far distant climale; let them find, O let 
 them find one in America under thy brooding sacred 
 wii gs, where our oppressed fathers once found it, 
 and we now enjoy it, by the favor of Him, whose 
 service is the most glorious freedom! Never, 
 never may He permit them to forsake us, for our 
 unworthiness to enjoy thy enlivening presence ! By 
 His high permission attend us through life and death 
 to the regions of the blessed, thy original abode, 
 there to enjoy forever the " glorious liberty of the 
 sons of God!" — But I forget myself; whither have 
 I been hurried by this enthusiasm, or whatever else 
 you will please to call it ? I hope your candor will 
 forgive this odd excursion, for which I hardly know 
 how to account myself. 
 
 JOHN WOOLMAN. 
 " Get," says Charles Lamb, in one of the Essays 
 of Elia, " the writings of John Woolraan by heart, 
 and love the early Quakers." 
 
 The result is not unlikely to follow, even if the 
 reader stop short of the thoroughness of study 
 recommended. John Woohnan's writings are 
 
 not, however, of formidable bulk, being comprised 
 in a duodecimo of about five hundred pages. 
 They are principally occupied with The Journal 
 of his life and travels in the service of the Gos- 
 pel, and as the best introduction of the man, we 
 proceed to some consideration of this which may 
 emphatically be called a portion of his works. 
 
 " Having often felt a motion of love to leave 
 some hints in writing of my experience of the 
 goodness of God," he in the thirty-sixth year of 
 his age addressed himself to the task. 
 
 7-Uiy??-. . 
 
 Tic was born i n Northampton, Burlington county, 
 AY est Jersey, in 1720, and before the age of seven 
 " began to be acquainted with the operations of 
 Divine love. " He remembered sitting down once 
 on his way from school, and reading the descrip- 
 tion of the new heavens and new earth in the 
 Book of Revelation, and by this and like exercises 
 he was preserved from acquiring the habit of using 
 ill language and other evils. 
 
 He records an early case of conscience. 
 
 A thing remarkable in my childhood was, that 
 once going to a neighbour's house, I saw, on the 
 way, a robin sitting on her nest, and as I came 
 near she went off, but having young ones flew 
 about, and with many cries expressed her concern 
 for them; I stood and threw stones at her, till one 
 striking her, she fell down dead : at first I was 
 pleased with the exploit, but after a few minutes 
 was seized with horror, as having, in a sportive way, 
 killed an innocent creature while she was careful 
 tor her young : I beheld her lying dead, and 
 thought these young ones for which she was so 
 careful, must now perish for want of their dam to 
 nourish them ; and after some painful considera- 
 tions on the subject I climbed up the tree, took all 
 the young birds, and killed them ; supposing that 
 better than to leave them to pine away and die mi- 
 serably : and believed, in this case, that scripture 
 proverb was fulfilled, " The tender mercies of the 
 wicked are cruel." I then went on my errand, but, 
 for some hours could think of little else but the 
 cruelties I had committed, and was much troubled. 
 Thus He whose tender mercies are over all his 
 works, hath placed a principle in the human mind 
 which incites -to exercise goodness towards every 
 living creature ; and this being singly attended to, 
 people become tender-hecrted and sympathizing; 
 but being frequently and totally rejected, the mind 
 becomes shut up in a contrary disposition. 
 
 As he advanced to the age of sixteen, he found 
 himself losing his childish purity. In his own 
 words, " I perceived a plant in me which pro- 
 duced much wild grapes." A fit of sickness, 
 "from which I doubted of recovering," brought 
 serious thoughts to his mind, and with advancing 
 years he became more and more weaned from the 
 world. 
 
 He remained with his parents, " and wrought 
 on the plantation" until his twenty-first year, 
 when " a man in much business at shop-keeping 
 and baking asked me, if I would hire with him to 
 tend shop and keep books." Accepting this pro- 
 posal, his employer furnished a shop in Mount 
 Holly, a few miles distant, where Woolman lived 
 alone. He was troubled at first by the visits of 
 
JOHN WOOXMArf. 
 
 147 
 
 " Several young people, my former acquaintance, 
 who knew not but varieties would be as agreeable 
 to me now as ever ;" but these gay companions 
 soon " gave over expecting him as one of their 
 company." 
 
 He not long after made his first essay as a 
 speaker. 
 
 I went to meetings in an awful frame of mind, and 
 endeavoured to be inwardly acquainted with the 
 language of the true Shepherd ; and one day, being 
 under a strong exercise of spirit, I stood up, and 
 said some words in a meeting; but not keeping 
 close to the divine opening, I said more than was 
 required of me ; and being soon sensible of my error, 
 I was afflicted in mind some weeks, without any 
 light or comfort, even to that degree that I could 
 not take satisfaction in any thing : I remembered 
 God, and was troubled ; and, in the depth of my 
 distress, he had pity upon me, and sent the Com- 
 forter : I then felt forgiveness for my offence, and 
 my mind became calm and quiet, being truly thank- 
 ful to my gracious Redeemer for his mercies ; and 
 after this, feeling the spring of divine love opened, 
 and a concern to speak, I said a few words in a 
 meeting, in which I found peace ; this, I believe, 
 was about six weeks from the first time : and, I was 
 thus humbled -and disciplined under the cross, my 
 understanding became more strengthened to distin- 
 guish the pure spirit which inwardly moves upon 
 the heart and taught me to wait in silence some- 
 times many weeks together, until I felt that rise 
 which prepares the creature to stand like a trum- 
 pet, through which the Lord speaks to his flock. 
 
 We next find him a protester against holiday 
 junketing. 
 
 About the time called Christmas, I observed many 
 people from the country, and dwellers in town, 
 who, resorting to public-houses, spent their time in 
 drinking and vain sports, tending to corrupt one 
 another ; on which account I was much troubled. 
 At one house in particular there was mueh disorder; 
 and I believed it was a duty incumbent on me to go 
 ami speak to the master of that house. I considered 
 I was young, and that several elderly Friends in 
 town had opportunity to see these things; but 
 though I would gladly have been excused, yet I 
 could not f- my mind clear. 
 
 The exercise was heavy ; and as I was reading 
 what the Almighty said to Ezekiel, respecting his 
 duty as a watchman, the matter was set home 
 more clearly ; and then, with prayers and tears,- 1 be- 
 Bought the Lord for his assistance, who, in loving 
 kindness, gave me a resigned heart: then, at a suit- 
 able opportunity, I went to the public-house; and 
 seeing the man amongst much company, I went to 
 him, and told him, I wanted to speak with him ; 
 so we went aside, and there, in the fear and dread 
 of the Almighty, I exprest to him what rested on my 
 mind, which he took kindly, and afterwards showed 
 more regard to me than before. In a few years 
 afterwards he died, middle-aged; and I often 
 thought, that had I neglected my duty in that case, 
 it would have given me great trouble ; and I was 
 humbly thankful to my gracious Father, who had 
 supported me herein. 
 
 On the fifth day of the ninth month he set out 
 on his first journey, in company with an ancient 
 friend, Abraham Farrington, and was absent 
 above two weeks. On his return, " perceiving 
 merchandise to be attended with much cumber, 
 in the way of trading in these parts," he looked 
 
 about for a quieter occupation, and settled upon 
 the sedentary calling of a tailor, 
 
 I believed the hand of Providence pointed out 
 this business for me; and was taught to be content 
 with it, though I felt at times a disposition that 
 would have sought for something greater ; but 
 through the revelation of Jesus Christ, I had seen 
 the happiness of humility, and there was an earnest 
 desire in me to enter deep into it; and, at times, 
 this desire arose to a degree of fervent supplication, 
 wherein my soul was so environed with heavenly 
 light and consolation, that things were made easy 
 to me which had been otherwise. 
 
 After " carefully attending meetings for worship 
 and discipline," he " found an enlargement of gos- 
 pel love in his mind," and " therein a concern to 
 visit Friends in some of the back settlements of 
 Virginia," and finding that Isaac Andrews had 
 " drawings" of a similar character, the pair started 
 1 on a tour on the twelfth day of the third month, 
 in the year 17-16. He found this journey so satis- 
 factory, that he seems to have henceforward 
 adopted itineracy as a regular pursuit. 
 
 In 1749, he married " a well-inclined damsel," 
 Sarah Ellis. In 1753, he submitted a tract 
 against slavery, which he had prepared some 
 years before, " to the revisal of Friends, who 
 having examined and made some small alterations 
 in it, directed a number of copies thereof to be 
 published and dispersed amongst Friends." This 
 was a subject on which he spoke and wrote fre- 
 quently. Anticipating the removal of the sys- 
 tem from his own neighborhood, he was equally 
 desirous of its extinction in all parts of the 
 country. 
 
 At a drafting of militia in 1757, during the 
 French War, he, with others whom he influenced, 
 declined to bear arms or hire substitutes. They 
 were told they might return home for the pre- 
 sent, and to be in readiness when called upon. 
 The emergency never occurred. Woolman car- 
 ried his scruples still further. 
 
 On the fourth day of the fourth month, in the 
 year 1758, orders came to some oliicers in Mount- 
 Holly, to prepare quarters, a short time, for about 
 one hundred soldiers : and an officer and two other 
 men, all inhabitants of our town, came to my house; 
 and the officer told me, that he came to speak with 
 me, to provide lodging and entertainment for two 
 soldiers, there being six shillings a week per man 
 allowed as pay for it. The case being new and un- 
 expected, I made no answer suddenly, but sat a time 
 silent, my mind being inward ; I was fully convinced, 
 that the proceedings in wars are inconsistent with 
 the purity of the Christian religion: and to be hired 
 to entertain men who were then under pay as sol- 
 diers, was a difficulty with me. I expected they 
 had legal authority for what they did ; and after a 
 short time, I said to the officer, if the men are sent 
 here for entertainment, I believe I shall not refuse 
 to admit them into my house ; but the nature of the 
 J case is such, that I expect I cannot keep them on 
 I hire: one of the men intimated that he thought I 
 might do it consistent with my religious principles ; 
 to which I made no reply, as believing silence, at 
 that time, best for me. Though they spake of two, 
 there came only one, who tarried at my house about 
 two weeks, and behaved himself civilly ; and when 
 the officer came to pay me, I told him I could not 
 take pay for it, having admitted him into my house 
 
148 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in a passive obedience to authority. I was on horse- 
 back when he spake to me ; and as I turned from 
 him, he said he was obliged to me: to which I said 
 nothing; but thinking on the expression, I grew 
 uneasy ; and afterwards being near where he lived, 
 I went and told him on what grounds I refused 
 taking pay for keeping the soldier. 
 
 In 1763 he determined to visit the Indians on 
 the east branch of the Susquehannah, some of 
 whom he had met at Philadelphia. Some Friends 
 who had heard of his intention came from that 
 city to him, " so late, that friends were generally 
 gone to bed," to warn him that the Indians " had 
 taken a fort from the English westward, and slain 
 and scalped English people in divers places, some 
 near Pittsburg," and of the consetpient dangers 
 of the journey; but he was not to be deterred,' 
 and on the following' morning set out with two 
 companions and a guide. The journey occupied 
 the greater portion of the month of June ; and its 
 record forms some of the pleasantest portions of 
 our Friend's Journal. We extract some pas- 
 sages : — 
 
 We reached the Indian settlement at Wioming : 
 and here we were told that an Indian runner had 
 been at that place a day or two before us, and 
 brought news of the Indians taking an English fort, 
 westward, and destroying the people, and that they 
 were endeavouring to take another ; and also, that 
 another Indian runner came there about the middle 
 of the night before we got there, who came from a 
 town about ten miles above Wehaloosing, and 
 brought news, that some Indian warriors, from dis- 
 tant parts, came to that town with two English 
 scalps ; and told the people that it was war with 
 the English. 
 
 Our guides took us to the house of a very ancient 
 man ; and soon after we had put in our baggage 
 there came a man from another Indian house some 
 distance off; and I, perceiving there was a man 
 near the door, went out ; and he having a tomahawk, 
 wrapped under his matchcoat out of sight, as I ap- 
 proached him, he took it in his hand ; I, however, 
 went forward, and, speaking to him in a friendly 
 way, perceived he understood some English: my 
 companion then coming out we had some talk with 
 him concerning the nature of our visit in these 
 part* ; and then he, going into the house with us, 
 and talking with our guides, soon appeared friendly, 
 and sat down and smoaked his pipe. Though his 
 taking the hatchet in his hand at the instant 1 drew 
 near to him, hail a disitgreeable appearance, I be- 
 lieve he had no other intent than to be in readiness 
 in case any violence was offered to him. 
 
 Hearing the news brought by these Indian run- | 
 ners, and being told by the Indians where we 
 lodged, that what Indians were about Wioming ex- 
 pected, in a few days, to move to some larger towns, 
 I thought that, to all outward appearance, it was 
 dangerous travelling at this time; and was, after a 
 hard day's journey, brought into a painful exercise 
 at night, in which I had to trace back, and view 
 over the steps I had taken from my first moving in 
 the visit ; and though I had to bewail some weak- 
 ness, which, at times, had attended me, yet I could 
 not find that I had ever given way to a wilful dis- 
 obedience: and then, as I believed I had, under a 
 Bense of duty, come thus far, I was now earnest in 
 spirit, beseeching the Lord to show me what I ought 
 to do. In this great distress I grew jealous of my- 
 self, lest the desire of reputation, as a man firmly 
 settled to persevere through dangers, or the fear of 
 
 disgrace arising on my returning without perform- 
 ing the visit, might have some place in me: thus I 
 lay, full of thoughts, great part of the night, while 
 my beloved companion lay and slept by me ; till the 
 Lord, my gracious Father, who saw the conflicts of 
 my soul, was pleased to give quietness: then I was 
 again strengthened to commit my life, and all things 
 relating thereto, into his heavenly hands; and get- 
 ting a little sleep toward day, when morning came 
 we arose. 
 
 On the fourteenth day of the sixth month, we 
 sought out and visited all the Indians hereabouts 
 that we could meet with ; they being chiefly in one 
 place, about a mile from where we lodged, in all 
 perhaps twenty. Here I expressed the care I had on 
 my mind for their good ; I told them, that true love 
 had made me willing thus to leave my family to 
 come and see the Indians, and speak with them in 
 their houses. Some of them appeared kind and 
 friendly. So we took our leave of these Indians, 
 and went up the river Susquehannah, about three 
 miles, to the house of an Indian called Jacob Janu- 
 ary, who had killed his hog ; and the women were 
 making store of bread, and preparing to move up 
 the river. Here our pilots left their canoe when 
 they came down in the Spring, which, lying dry, 
 was leaky ; so that we, being detained some hours, 
 had a good deal of friendly conversation with the 
 family; and, eating dinner with them, we made 
 them some small presents. Then, putting our bag- 
 gage in the canoe, some of them pushed slowly up 
 the stream, and the rest of us rode our horses : and 
 swimming them over a creek called Lahawahamunk, 
 we pitched our tent a little above it, being a shower 
 in the evening; and in a sense of God's goodness in 
 helping nre in my distress, sustaining me under tri- 
 als, and inclining my heart to trust in him, I lay 
 down in an humble bowed frame of mind, and had 
 a comfortable night's lodging. 
 
 In 1772, after a long and debilitating sickness, 
 " having been some time under a religious con- 
 cern to prepare for crossing the seas," he made 
 preparations to visit England. In consequence of 
 singular religious scruples he took passage in the 
 steerage. 
 
 I told the owner, that on the outside of that part 
 of the ship where the cabbin was, I observed sundry 
 sorts of carved work and imagery : and that in the 
 cabbin I observed some superfluity of workmanship 
 of several sorts ; and that according to the ways of 
 men's reckoning, the sum of money to be paid for a 
 passage in that apartment, hath some relation to the 
 expence of furnishing it to please the minds of such 
 who give way to a conformity to this world ; and 
 that in this case, as in other cases, the money re- 
 ceived from the passengers, are calculated to answer 
 every expence relating to their passage, and amongst 
 the rest, of these superfluities : and that in this case, 
 I felt a scruple with regard to paying my money to 
 defray such expenees. 
 
 As my mind was now opened, I told the owner, 
 that I had, at several times in my travels, seen great 
 oppressions on this continent, at which my heart 
 had been much affected, and brought into a feeling 
 of the state of the sufferers. And having many 
 times been engaged, in the fear and love of God, to 
 labour with those under whom the oppressed have 
 been borne down and afflicted, I have often per- 
 ceived, that a view to get riches, and provide 
 estates for children to live conformable to customs, 
 which stand in that spirit wherein men have regard 
 to the honours of this world — that in the pursuit of 
 these things, I had seen many entangled in the spi- 
 
JOHN WOOLMAN. 
 
 149 
 
 rit of oppression ; and the exercise of my soul had 
 been such, that I could not find peace in joining in 
 any such thing which I saw was against that wis- 
 dom which is pure. 
 
 His account of the voyage contains many 
 humane and sensible suggestions for the better 
 care of sailors, and abounds in devout and well 
 penned reflections. On bis arrival in England he 
 visited a few meetings of his sect. He refused to 
 travel by stage-coach or receive letters by post, 
 on humanitarian grounds. 
 
 As my journey hath been without a horse, I have 
 had several offers of being assisted on my way in 
 the stage coaches; but have not been in them: nor 
 have I hud freedom to send letters by the posts, in 
 the present way of their riding ; the stages being 
 so fixed, and one boy dependent on another as to 
 time, that they commonly go upwards of one hun- 
 dred miles in twenty-four hours ; and in the cold 
 long winter nights, the poor boys suffer much. 
 
 I heard in America of the way of these posts ; 
 and cautioned friends in the general meeting of mi- 
 nisters and elders at Philadelphia, and in the yearly- 
 meeting of ministers and elders at Loudon, not to 
 send letters to me on any common occasion by post. 
 And though, on this account, I may be likely to 
 hear seldomer from my family left behind : yet, for 
 righteousness' sake, I am, through Divine favour, 
 made content. 
 
 He was also troubled about dye-stuffs. 
 
 Having of late travelled often in wet weather, 
 through narrow streets in towns and villages, where 
 dirtiness under foot, and the scent arising from that 
 filth, which more or less infects the air of all thick 
 settled towns; and I, being but weakly, have felt 
 distress both in body and mind with that which is 
 impure. 
 
 In these journies I have been where much cloth 
 hath been dyed ; and sundry times walked over 
 ground, where much of their dye stuffs have drained 
 away. 
 
 Here I have felt a longing in my mind, that peo- 
 ple might come into cleanness of spirit, cleanness 
 of person, cleanness about their houses and gar- 
 ments. 
 
 Some, who are great, carry delicacy to a great 
 height themselves, and yet the real cleanliness is 
 not generally promoted. Dyes being invented 
 partly to please the eye, and partly to hide dirt, I 
 have felt in this weak state, travelling in dirtiness 
 and affected with unwholesome scents, a strong de- 
 sire that the nature of dying cloth, to hide dirt, may 
 be more fully considered. 
 
 To hide dirt in our garments, appears opposite to 
 the real cleanliness. 
 
 To wasli garments, and keep them sweet, this ap- 
 pears cleanly. 
 
 Through giving way to hiding dirt in our gar- 
 ments, a spirit which would cover that which is dis- 
 agreeable, is strengthened. 
 
 Real cleanness becometh a holy people : but hid- 
 ing that which is not clean by colouring our gar- 
 ments appears contrary to the sweetness of sincerity. 
 
 Through some sorts of dyes, cloth is less useful ; 
 and if the value of dye-stuffs, the expence of dying, 
 and the damage done to cloth, were all added to- 
 gether, and that expence applied to keep all sweet 
 and clean, how mucli more cleanly would people be. 
 
 The journal closes abruptly, a few pages after, 
 with some remarks on eloquence, which have 
 much of the quality of which they treat. 
 
 The natural man loveth eloquence, and many love 
 to hear eloquent orations ; and if there is not a care- 
 ful attention to the gift, men wdio have once la- 
 boured in the pure gospel ministry, growing weary 
 of suffering, and ashamed of appearing weak, may 
 kindle a fire, compass themselves about with sparks, 
 and walk in the light, not of Christ who is under 
 suffering; but of that fire, which they, going from 
 the gift, have kindled: And that in hearers, which 
 are gone from the meek, suffering state, into the 
 worldly wisdom, may be warmed with this fire, and 
 speak highly of these labours. That which i3 of 
 God gathers to God ; and that which is of the world 
 is owned by the world. 
 
 In this journey a labour hath attended my mind, 
 that the ministers amongst us may be preserved in 
 the meek feeling life of Truth, where we may have 
 no desire, but to follow Christ and be with him ; 
 that when he is under suffering we may suffer with 
 him; and never desire to raise up in dominion, 
 but as he by the virtue of his own spirit may raise 
 us. 
 
 A few days after writing these considerations, 
 " our dear friend," says the kind hand who con- 
 tinues the record, " came to the city of York," 
 where before the sittings of the quarterly meeting 
 were over, he was taken ill of the small-pox. An 
 account of his sickness from day to day follows. 
 
 His disorder appeared to be the small-pox: being 
 asked to have a doctor's advice, he signified he had 
 not freedom or liberty in his mind so to do, standing 
 wholly resigned to his will, who gave him life, and 
 whose power he had witnessed to raise and heal 
 him in sickness before, when he seemed nigh unto 
 death; and if he was to wind up now, he was per- 
 fectly resigned, having no will either to live or die, 
 and did not choose any should be sent for to him : 
 but a young man, an apothecary, coining of his own 
 accord the next day, and desiring to do something 
 for him, he said he found a freedom to confer with 
 him and the other friends about him, and if any 
 thing should be propose'!, as to medicine, that did 
 not come through defiled channels or oppressive 
 hands, he should be willing to consider and take, so 
 far as he found freedom. 
 
 The disease made rapid and fatal progress. 
 His last act, "about the second hour on fourth-day 
 morning," was to call for pen and ink, and, being 
 unable to speak, write, " I believe my being here 
 is in the wisdom of Christ, I know not as to life 
 or death." 
 
 Four hours after, he expired " without sigh, 
 groan, or struggle." 
 
 Woolman's chief productions, in addition to his 
 Journal, are — Some Considerations on the Keep- 
 ing of Negroes, the tract already referred to ; 
 Considerations on Pure Wisdom and Human 
 Policy, on Labour, on Schools, and on the Right 
 Use of the Lord's Outward Gifts, 1768; Conside- 
 rations on the True Harmony of Mankind, and 
 how it is to be Maintained, 1770; Memories on 
 Sundry Subjects, 1773 ; An E2'istle to the Quar- 
 terly and Monthly Meetings of Friends, 1772; 
 and A Word of Remembrance and Caution to the 
 Rich. Our extract is taken from the Remarks on 
 Sundry Subjects. 
 
 Worship in silence hath often been refreshing to 
 my mind, and a care attends me that a young gene- 
 ration may feel the nature of this worship. 
 
150 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Great expence ariseth in relation to that which is 
 called Divine worship. 
 
 A considerable part of this expence is applied 
 toward outward greatness, and many poor people, 
 in raising of tithes, labour in supporting customs 
 contrary to the simplicity that there is in Christ, 
 toward whom my mind hath often been moved 
 with pity. 
 
 In pure, silent worship, we dwell under the holy 
 anointing, and feel Christ to be our shepherd. 
 
 Here the best of teachers ministers to the several 
 conditions of his flock, and the soul receives imme- 
 diately from the Divine fountain that with which it 
 is nourished. 
 
 As I have travelled, at times, where those of 
 other societies have attended our meetings, and have 
 perceived how little some of them knew of the na- 
 ture of silent worship, I have felt tender desires, in 
 my heart, that we, who often sit silent in our meet- 
 ings, may live answerable to the nature of an inward 
 fellowship with God, that no stumbling-block, 
 through us, may be laid in their way. 
 
 Such is the load of unnecessary expence which 
 lieth on that which is called Divine service, in many 
 places, and so much are the minds of many people 
 employed in outward forms and ceremonies, that 
 the opening of an inward silent worship in this na- 
 tion, to me, hath appeared to be a precious opening. 
 
 Within the last four hundred years many pious 
 people have been deeply exercised in soul on account 
 of the superstition which prevailed amongst the 
 professed followers of Christ, and, in support of 
 their testimony against oppressive idolatry, some, 
 in several ages, have finished their course in the 
 flames. 
 
 It appears by the history of the Reformation, 
 that, through the faithfulness of the mart3 T rs, the 
 understandings of many have been opened, and the 
 minds of people from age to age, been more and 
 more prepared for a real, spiritual worship. 
 
 My mind is often affected with a sense of the con- 
 dition of those people who, in different ages, have 
 been meek and patient, following Christ through 
 great afflictions; and while I behold the several 
 steps of reformation, and that clearness to which, 
 through Divine goodness, it hath been brought bj' 
 our ancestors, I feel tender desires that we, who 
 sometimes meet in silence, may never, by our con- 
 duct, lay stumbling-blocks in the way of others, 
 and hinder the progress of the reformation in the 
 world. 
 
 It was a complaint against some who were called 
 the Lord's people, that they brought polluted bread 
 to his altar, and said, the table of the Lord was con- 
 tern; tible. 
 
 In real, silent worship the soul feeds on that 
 which is Divine ; but we cannot partake of the ta- 
 ble of the Lord, and that table which is prepared 
 by the god of this world. 
 
 If Christ is our shepherd, and feedeth us, and we 
 are faithful in following him, our lives will have an 
 inviting language, and the table of the Lord will 
 not be polluted. 
 
 SAMUEL HOPKINS, 
 The author of a System of Divinity, -was born 
 September 17, 1721, in Waterbury, Connecticut. 
 He was educated at Yale College. While at New 
 
 Haven, he took part in the religious excitement 
 caused by the preaching of Whitefield, Gilbert 
 
 Tennent, and Jonathan Edwards. The mission- 
 ary Brainerd was then in the college, and influ- 
 enced Hopkins. On leaving Yale, he bent his 
 way to Edwards, at Northampton, with whom 
 he continued his studies for some time. He then, 
 in 1743, was ordained at Sheffield (now Great 
 Barrington), where he remained for twenty-five 
 years — being soon joined by Edwards, in his 
 neighborhood, at Stockbridge. In 1770, lie was 
 ordained minister of a congregation at Newport, 
 which he was compelled to leave when the Bri- 
 tish took possession of the island. In 1780 he 
 returned, and remained there till his death, 
 December 20, 1803. "He died calmly," says 
 Whittier, in a tribute to the memory of the man, 
 " in the steady faith of one who had long trusted 
 all things in the hand of God. ' The language of 
 my heart is,' said he, ' let God be glorified by all 
 things, and the best interest of His kingdom pro- 
 moted, whatever becomes of me or my interest.' 
 To a young friend, who visited him three days 
 before his death, he said, ' I am feeble, and can- 
 not say much. I have said all I can say. With 
 my last words, I tell you, religion is the one 
 thing needful. And now I am going to die, and 
 I am glad of it. Many years before, an agreement 
 had been made between Dr. Hopkins and his old 
 and tried friend, Dr. Hart, of Connecticut, that 
 when either was called home, the survivor should 
 preach the funeral sermon of the deceased. The 
 venerable Dr. Hart accordingly came, true to his 
 promise, preaching at the funeral from the words 
 of Elisha, ' My father, my father ; the chariots of 
 Israel, and the horsemen thereof.' In the burial- 
 ground adjoining his meeting-house, lies all that 
 was mortal of Samuel Hopkins.'"* 
 
 Dr. Channing, though widely differing from 
 Hopkins in theology, has celebrated the moral 
 grandeur of the man. Their points of sympathy 
 were a common ardor of independence, shown 
 by Hopkins in his modification of Calvinism and 
 theory of benevolence. " His system," says 
 Channing, "however fearful, was yet built on a 
 generous foundation. (He maintained that all 
 holiness, all moral excellence, consists in benevo- 
 lence, or disinterested davntion to the greatest 
 good.N He taught that sin was introduceTTTnto 
 the creation, and is to be everlastingly punished, 
 because evil is necessary to the highest good. 
 True virtue, as he taught, was an entire surrender 
 of personal interest to the benevolent purposes of 
 God. Self-love he spared in none of its move- 
 ments. The system of Dr. Hopkins was an effort 
 of reason to reconcile Calvinism with its essential 
 truths.''t Allen, who has pointed out his modi- 
 fications of the Calvinistic theology, with less 
 sympathy for his free spirit of inquiry, pro- 
 nounces him " a very humble, pious, and benevo- 
 lent man. Humility pervaded his whole conduct. 
 It preserved him from that overbearing zeal, 
 which is the offspring of self-confidence and 
 pride.''! 
 
 Hopkins early took part in the abolition of the 
 slave trade, announcing his views on the subject 
 to his congregation at Newport, who were inte- 
 rested in the traffic, and giving to the cause, not 
 
 * Whittier's Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, p. 1G1. 
 t Discourse at Newport, 1S36. Works, iv. M2. 
 % Dr. Allen's Biog. Diet., Ait. Ilopkias. 
 
WILLIAM LIVINGSTON. 
 
 151 
 
 merely his arguments, but a liberal contribution 
 from bis limited resources. His Dialogue Con- 
 cerning the Slavery of the Africans; showing it 
 to be the Duty and Interest of the American 
 States to Emancipate all their Slaves, was pub- 
 lished in 1776, with a dedication to the Conti- 
 nental Congress. 
 
 In literary industry he was of the school of 
 Edwards, having been engaged at times eighteen 
 hours a day in his studies. His publications are 
 three sermons — Sin through Dkine Interposition 
 an Advantage to the Universe, and yet this no 
 Excuse for Sin or Encouragement to it, 1759 ; 
 An Inquiry concerning the Promises of the Gos- 
 pel, whether any of them are made to the Exer- 
 cises and Doings of Persons in an Unregenerate 
 State, containing remarks on two sermons by 
 Dr. Mayhew, 1765 ; on the Divinity of Christ, 
 1768, and several other discourses, embracing 
 points of his peculiar views, which he set forth 
 systematically in the System of Doctrines, con- 
 tained in Divine Revelation, in 1793. He wrote 
 also the Life of Susannah Anthony, 1796, and 
 of Mrs. Osborn, 1798, and left sketches of his 
 life, written by himself, and several theological 
 tracts, published by Dr. West, of Stockbridge, in 
 1805. 
 
 SAMSON OCCOM. 
 
 Samson Occom, a Mohegan Indian, was born at 
 Mohegan, on the Thames river, Connecticut, 
 about the year 17"23. He wandered through the 
 vicinity with his parents, who lived after the 
 vagrant manner of their tribe, until during a 
 visit to his neighborhood by several clergymen of 
 the adjoining settlements, he became subject to 
 religious impressions, and was induced to devote 
 bis future career to the spiritual education of his 
 people. He was at the age of nineteen an inmate 
 of Mr. Wheelock's school at Lebanon, for the edu- 
 cation of Indians, an institution which led to the 
 foundation of Dartmouth College, where he re- 
 mained four years. In 1748, be taught a school 
 for a short time in New London, and then re- 
 moving to Long Island, again taught a school, and 
 preached among the Montauk Indians, residing at 
 East, Hampton, where he eked out a living by 
 hunting and fishing, binding books, making 
 wooden spoons, stocking gnns, and -working as a 
 cooper. He was regularly ordained, Aug. 29, 
 1759. In 1766 he was sent by Wheelock with 
 Mr. Whittaker, the minister of Norwich, to Eng- 
 land, in behalf of the Indian Charity School, en- 
 dowed by Moor. From February 16, 1766, to 
 July 22, 1767, he preached in various parts of the 
 country, from three to four hundred sermons, to 
 crowded audiences, and received much attention. 
 On his return he remained for some time at 
 Mohegan, and in 1786 removed with a number 
 of Indians of that neighborhood to Brotherton, 
 near Utica, New York, where a tract of land had 
 been granted by the Oneidas. He afterwards 
 resided among the Stockbridge Indians, who had 
 been previously instructed in Christianity by 
 Edwards, and received a tract near the lands of 
 the Mohegans, where he died in July, 1792. His 
 funeral was attended by over six hundred Indians. 
 Occom published a sermon on the execution 
 of Moses Paul, at New Haven, Sept. 2, 1772, and 
 
 wrote an account of the manners and customs of 
 the Montauk Indians, which has been pubhshed 
 
 y^f O^C 
 
 0/>Wc/2r^ / -C^CC^7^j 
 
 5- 
 
 in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historic:! 
 Society.* " His discourses," says Dr. Dwight, 
 " though not proofs of superior talents, were 
 decent, and his utterance in some degree elo- 
 quent." He now and then succumbed to strong 
 drink, but maintained in other respects a good 
 character. 
 
 WILLIAM LIVINGSTON. 
 
 The Livingston family was founded in America 
 by Robert Livingston, the son of a clergyman of 
 Teviot, in Roxburghshire, Scotland. He emi- 
 grated about the year 1672, and appears to have 
 soon after filled the office of Secretary to the Com- 
 missioners of Albany and parts adjacent. Ho 
 purchased an extensive tract of land from the 
 Indians, which was incorporated into the Manor 
 
 £/' J^ c^lA^ 
 
 of Livingston, by patent dated July 22, 1686. He 
 took an active part in colonial affairs, and died 
 about 1726. His son Philip succeeded to the 
 estate and married Catherine, daughter of Peter 
 Van Brugh of Albany, in which city their fifth 
 child, William, was born in November, 1723. A 
 year of his boyhood was passed with a missionary 
 among the Mohock Indians, during which he ac- 
 quired a knowledge of the language and manners 
 of the tribe which was of much service to him 
 subsequently. In 1737 he entered Yale College, 
 and was graduated at the head of his class in 1741. 
 He studied law in the City of New York with Mr. 
 James Alexander. Two essays, which he pub- 
 lished under the signature Tyro Philolegis, in 
 
 * Wheelock's Brief Narrative of the Indian Charity School 
 A letter from the Rev. John Devotion, of Saybrook, to Rev. 
 Dr. Styles, in closing Mr. Occom's account of the Montauk 
 Indians. A.D. 1701. Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, x. 
 106. 
 
152 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Parker's New York Weekly Post Boy, August 
 19, 1745, probably his first published composi- 
 tions, on the mode of studying law, which then 
 and now prevails, offended his instructor, and led 
 to his withdrawal to the office of Mr. William 
 Smith, with whom he completed his course. 
 While a student he married Susannah, daughter 
 of Philip French. In 1747 he issued his Poem 
 entitled Philosophic Solitude. In 1752, in pur- 
 suance of an act of the legislature, he published, 
 with William Smith, Jr., the first digest of the 
 Colony Laws ; and in the same year commenced 
 a weekly political and miscellaneous journal of 
 four pages folio, containing essays and corres- 
 pondence on the model of the Spectator, The Inde- 
 pendent Reflector. It was conducted with spirit, 
 and made astir, being on one occasion denounced 
 from the pulpit. It entered warmly into the dis- 
 cussion relative to the religious formation of the 
 Board of Trustees of King's, afterwards Columbia 
 College, seven of whom were, by the act of No- 
 vember, 1751, vesting the funds raised by lotte- 
 ries for the future institution, to be of the Epis- 
 copal, two of the Dutch, and one (Livingston 
 himself) of the Presbyterian denominations. The 
 publication closed in consequence of the outcry 
 made against it, with the fifty-second number. 
 In 1754 he published several of a series of 
 communications entitled The Watch Tower, in 
 Hugh Gaine's Mercury, on the still agitated 
 topic of King's College. In 1757 he issued a work, 
 first published in London, entitled, A Review of 
 the Military Operations in North America, from 
 the commencement of French hostilities on the 
 frontiers of Virginia in 1753, to the surrender of 
 Oswego on the I'ith April, 1756, in a Letter to a 
 Nobleman. It was written in defence of Go- 
 vernor Shirley. In the same year he published a 
 funeral eulogium on the Rev. Aaron Burr, Pre- 
 sident of the College of New Jersey. In 1758, 
 Livingston was elected from his brother's manor 
 a member of the Assembly, as a representative of 
 the opposition to the De Lancey or church party, 
 which the King's College controversy had con- 
 tributed to form. In 1765 he published a series 
 of Essays entitled The Sentinel, in Holt's New 
 York Weekly Post Boy. One of the most striking 
 of these is entitled, A New Sermon to an Old 
 Text. Touch not mine anointed; in which his 
 design is to show that the " anointed" are not the 
 monarchs but the people. These extended to 
 twenty-eight numbers. His next publication was 
 a pamphlet on the proposed American Episcopate, 
 in answer to some strictures on the colonies by 
 the Bishop of Llandaff. He also wrote some of 
 the articles on the same subject which appeared 
 under the title of The American. Whig, in the 
 New York Gazette. This subject was one fiercely 
 contested in New York and Philadelphia, as well 
 as New England. The opposition to the measure 
 was based on political jealousy of a union of 
 church and state, which it was feared would follow 
 the introduction of bishops, more than on secta- 
 rian grounds, a fact proved by the unopposed 
 establishment of the American Episcopate after 
 the revolution. In 1770, Mr. Livingston pub- 
 lished A Soliloquy, a pamphlet reflecting se- 
 verely on Governor Colden. In 1772 he retired 
 to a country-seat, to which he gave the genial 
 name of Liberty Hall, at Elizabethtown, New Jer- 
 
 Liberty Hall. ' 
 
 sey. The progress of the Revolution did not, how- 
 ever, permit the fulfilment of his long cherished de- 
 sire for rural retirement. In 1 774 he was elected a 
 delegate to the continental congress. He was re- 
 elected the following year, but recalled on the 5th 
 of June to take command as brigadier-general of 
 the militia of his native state, at Elizabethtown 
 Point. In 1776 he was elected governor of the 
 state. During his administration he published 
 several essays under the signature of Hortensius, 
 in the New Jersey Gazette, a paper established to 
 oppose Rivington's Royai Gazette, which was 
 especially virulent against the " Don Quixote of 
 the Jerseys," as it unceremoniously styles the 
 Governor. He also wrote under the same signa- 
 ture, in 1779, in the United States Magazine, pub- 
 lished in Philadelphia, but soon after ascertaining 
 that several members of the Legislature had ex- 
 pressed " their dissatisfaction, that the chief 
 magistrate of the state should contribute to the 
 periodicals, he discontinued his communications 
 altogether." 
 
 Governor Livingston's correspondence shows the 
 high estimation in which his services to the nation 
 throughout the war were appreciated by Wash- 
 ington and his fellow patriots, and the repeated 
 attempts made by the enemy to surround his house 
 and capture his person, bear a like honorable 
 testimony to his efficiency. He supported not 
 only the military, but what was perhaps more 
 rare, the financial measures of Congress, declining, 
 on one occasion, to appoint an individual to the 
 office of postmaster on the ground that he had 
 refused to take continental money. In 1785 he 
 was elected Minister to the Court of Holland, but 
 declined the appointment. In the next year he 
 resumed his contributions to the press under 
 the title of The Primitive Whig, in Collins's 
 New Jersey Gazette. In 1787 he exerted him- 
 self in obtaining materials for Morse's Geo- 
 graphy, and in correcting the sheets of the work, 
 which appeared at Elizabethtown, 1789, with 
 a dedication to the governor. In 1787 lie was 
 also appointed a delegate to the Federal Con- 
 vention. He was an active member, though not 
 a prominent debater, of that body. In June, 1790, 
 he was attacked by a dropsy, which put an end 
 to his life, while still governor of the state, on 
 Sunday, July 25, 1790. 
 
WILLIAM LIVINGSTON. 
 
 153 
 
 In his private, Livingston maintained the high 
 tone of his puhlic life. His intercourse with his 
 numerous family, and with those about him, was 
 kindly and simple. He retained his love of rural 
 pursuits throughout his official career, and in the 
 words of Brissot, who mentions him in his travels 
 in 1788, was "at once a writer, a governor, and 
 a ploughman." 
 
 In person Governor Livingston was tall, and so 
 thin as to have been called by "some female 
 wit," the "whipping post." A Memoir by 
 Theodore Sedgwick,* was published in 1833. It 
 contains numerous extracts from his correspond- 
 ence, and is admirably executed. 
 
 THE RETREAT. 
 FROM THE POEM, PHILOSOPHIC SOLITt/DE. 
 
 Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, 
 
 Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; 
 
 To shining palaces let fools resort, 
 
 And dunces cringe, to be esteem'd at court ; 
 
 Mine be the pleasure of a rural life, 
 
 From noise remote, and ignorant of strife ; 
 
 Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau, 
 
 The lawless masquerade, and midnight show : 
 
 From ladies, lap-dugi, courtiers, garters, stars, 
 
 Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars. 
 
 Full in the centre of some shady grove, 
 By nature form'd for solitude and love: 
 On banks array'd with ever-blooming flowers, 
 Near beauteous landscapes, or by roseate bowers, 
 My neat, but simple mansion I would raise, 
 Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days ; 
 Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd, 
 With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd. 
 
 No costly furniture should grace my hall ; 
 But curling vines ascend against the wall, 
 Whose pliant branches should luxuriant twine, 
 While purple clusters swell'd with future wine: 
 To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distil 
 From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill. 
 
 Along my mansion, spiry firs should grow, 
 And gloomy yews extend the shady row: 
 The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise, 
 Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies: 
 Among the leaves, refreshing zephyrs play, 
 And crowding trees exclude the noon-tide ray; 
 Whereon the birds their downy nests should form, 
 Securely shelter'd from the battering storm ; 
 And to melodious notes their choir apply, 
 Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky: 
 While all around th' enchanting music rings, 
 And ev'ry vocal grove responsive sings. 
 
 Me to sequester'd scenes ye muses guide, 
 Where nature wantons in her virgin pride ; 
 To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flowers, 
 Elysian fields and amaranthine bowers, 
 To ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills, 
 To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and sunny hills. 
 
 Welcome, ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms! 
 Ve bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms ! 
 Ye forests, hail ! ye solitary woods! 
 Love-whispering groves, and silver-streaming floods : 
 
 * A Memoir of the Life of William Livingston, Member of 
 Congress in 1774, 1775, and 1776: Delegate to the Federal Con- 
 vention in 1787, and Governor of the State of New Jersey from 
 1776 to 1790, with extracts from his correspondence, and no- 
 tices of various members of his family. By Theodore Sedgwick, 
 Jun. New York. 1S33. 
 
 Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale! 
 Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties, hail ! 
 Oh how I long with you to spend rny days, 
 Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays ! 
 
 No trumpets there with martial clangor sound, 
 No prostrate heroes strew the crimson ground ; 
 No groves of lances glitter in the air, 
 Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war : 
 But white-rob'd Peace, and universal Love 
 Smile in the field, and brighten ev'ry grove: 
 There all the beauties of the circling year, 
 In native ornamental pride appear. 
 Gay, rosy-bosom'd Spring, and April show'rs, 
 Wake, from the womb of earth, the rising flow'rs; 
 In deeper verdure. Summer clothes the plain, 
 And Autumn bends beneath the golden grain ; 
 The trees weep amber; and the whispering gales 
 Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales: 
 The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom, 
 Profuse with sweets, and fragrant with perfume ; 
 On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise, 
 And varied prospects glad the wand'rlng eyes. 
 In these fair seats, I'd pass the joyous day, 
 Where meadows flourish, and where fields look gay ; 
 From bliss to bliss witli endless pleasure rove, 
 Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove, 
 AVoods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades, 
 Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades. 
 There from the polish'd fetters of the great, 
 Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state — 
 Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves, 
 Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves, 
 From all the vain formality of fools, 
 And odious talk of arbitrary rules: 
 The ruffling cares, which the vex'd soul annoy, 
 The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy, 
 The visionary bliss the world can lend, 
 Th' insidious foe, and false, designing friend, 
 The seven-fold fury of Xautippe's soul. 
 
 And S — 's rage, that burns without eontroul ; 
 
 I'd live retired, contented, and serene, 
 Forgot, unknown, unenvied, and unseen. 
 
 FAVORITE BOOKS. 
 
 But to improve the intellectual mind, 
 Reading should be to contemplation joiu'd. 
 First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring, 
 What muses dictate, and what poets sing. — 
 Virgil, as prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown, 
 And other bards pay homage to his throne ; 
 The blood of heroes now etfus'd so long, 
 Will run forever purple thro' his song, 
 See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes, 
 On planets rides, and talks with demigods ! 
 How do our ravish'd spirits melt away, 
 When in his song Sicilian shepherds play! 
 But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye, 
 When Dido shines in awful majesty! 
 Embroidered purple clad the Tynan queen, 
 Her motion graceful, and august her mien ; 
 A golden zone her royal limbs embrae'd, 
 A golden quiver rattled by her waist. 
 See her proud steed majestically prance, 
 Contemn the trumpet, and deride the launce I 
 In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, 
 Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold ! 
 He champs the bit, and throws the foam around, 
 Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground. 
 How stern ^Eneas thunders thro' the field ! 
 With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield! 
 Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, 
 Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain, 
 Struck through with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie, 
 Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die. 
 
154 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Thro' the thick squadrons see the hero bound ! 
 (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound !) 
 All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turnus' head, 
 (Re-kindled ire ! for blooming Pnllas dead) 
 Then in his bosom plung'd the shining blade — 
 The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade! 
 
 The far-fam'd bards that grae'd Britannia's isle, 
 Should next compose the venerable pile, 
 Great Milton first, for tow'ring thought renown'd, 
 Parent of song, and fam'd the world around! 
 His glowing breast divine Urania fir'd, 
 Or God himself th' immortal bard inspir'd. 
 Borne on triumphant wings he takes his flight, 
 Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light; 
 In martini pomp he clothes th' angelic train, 
 "While warring myriads shake the etherial plain. 
 First Michael stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest, 
 With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest: 
 Impenetrable arms his limbs infold, 
 Eternal adamant, and burning gold ! 
 Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight, 
 Rebellious Satan animates the fight: 
 Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke, 
 All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook. 
 To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, 
 Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms: 
 In radiant panoply divinely bright, 
 His limbs incas'd, he flash'd devouring light: 
 On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road 
 Thunder'd the chariot of the filial God ; 
 The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd, 
 With flamii-g gems the golden axles butu'd. 
 Lo ! the apostate host, with terror struck, 
 Roll back by millions! Th' empyrean shook ! 
 Sceptres, and orbed shields, and crowns of gold, 
 Cherubs and seraphs in confusion roll'd ; 
 Till from his hand the triple thunder hurl'd, 
 Compell'd them, head-long, to th' infernal world. 
 
 Then tuneful. Pope, whom all the nine inspire, 
 With sapphic sweetness, and pindaric fire, 
 Father of verse! melodious and divine! 
 Next peerless Milton should distinguished shine. 
 Smooth flow his numbers, when he paints the grove, 
 Th' enraptur'd virgins listening into love. 
 But when the night, and hoarse-resounding storm 
 Rush on the deep, and Neptune's face deform, 
 Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar, 
 Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore 
 But when he sings th' exhilarated swains, 
 Th' embow'ring groves, and Windsor's blissful plains, 
 Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene, 
 Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green: 
 His lays the verdure of the meads prolong, 
 And wither' d forests blossom in his song. 
 Thames' silver streams his flowing verse admire, 
 And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre. 
 
 Next should appear great Dryden's lofty muse, 
 For who would Dryden's polish'd verse refuse? 
 His lips were moisten'd in Parnassus' spring, 
 And Phcebus taught his laureat son to sing. 
 How long did Virgil untranslated moan, 
 His beauties fading, and his flights unknown ; 
 Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain, 
 Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man ! 
 Again the Trojan prince, with dire delight. 
 Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight: 
 Again Camilla glows with martial fire, 
 Drives armies back, and makes all Troy retire. 
 With more than native lustre, Virgil shines, 
 And gains sublimer heights in Dryden's lines. 
 
 The gentle Watts, who strings his silver lyre 
 To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling Sire ; 
 
 Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage 
 And mounts you sparkling worlds with hallow'd 
 
 rage, 
 Compels my thoughts to wing th' heav'nly road. 
 And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God: 
 No fabled nine, harmonious bard! inspire 
 Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire; 
 But prompting angels warm thy boundless rage, 
 Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page. 
 Blest man ! for spotless sanctity rever'd, 
 Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd; 
 Blest man ! from gaj-, delusive scenes remov'd, 
 Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd, 
 To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays, 
 Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah's praise. 
 Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight 
 To paint Religion in her native light, 
 Not then with plays the lab'ring press would groan, 
 Nor Vice defy the pulpit and the throne ; 
 No impious rhymers charm a vicious age, 
 Nor prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage; 
 But themes divine in lofty numbers rise, 
 Fill the wide earth, and echo thro' the skies. 
 
 These for delight. For profit I would read 
 The labour'd volumes of the learned dead. 
 Sagacious Locke, by Providence design'd, 
 To exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind. 
 The unconquerable sage* whom virtue fir'd, 
 And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd, 
 When victor Cffisar freed unhappy Rome 
 From Pompey's chains, to substitute his own. 
 Longinus, Livy, fam'd Thueydides, 
 Quintilian, Plato, and Demosthenes, 
 Persuasive Tully, and Cordoba's sfige,! 
 Who fell by Nero's unrelenting rage; 
 Him| whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed, 
 Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead. 
 Raleigh I'd read with ever fresh delight, 
 While ages past rise present to m}* sight : 
 All man unblest ! he foieign realms explor'd, 
 Then fell a victim to his country's sword! 
 Nor should great Derham pass neglected by, 
 Observant sage! to whose deep-piercing eye, 
 Nature's stupendous works expanded lie. 
 
 j Nor he, Britannia, thy unmatch'd renown 1 
 (Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown) 
 
 I Who on the solar orb uplifted rode, 
 And scann'd the unfathomable works of God ! 
 Who bound the silver planets to their spheres, 
 And trae'd the elliptic curve of blazing stars! 
 Immortal Newton ; whose illustrious name 
 Will shine on records of eternal fame. 
 
 A WIFE. 
 
 By love directed, I would choose a wife, 
 To improve my bliss, and ease the load of life. 
 Hail, wedlock! hail, inviolable tye! 
 Perpetual fountain -of domestic joy ! 
 Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight 
 Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite. 
 In Eden, first the holy state began, 
 When perfect innocence distil. guish'd man ; 
 The human pair, the Almighty pontiff led, 
 Gay as the morning, to the bridal bed; 
 A dread solemnity the espousals grae'd, 
 Angels the witnesses and God the priest 1 
 All earth exulted on the nuptial hour, 
 And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r ; 
 The joyous birds on every blossom'd spray, 
 Sung hymeneans to the important day, 
 While Philomela swell'd the spousal song, 
 And Paradise with gratulatiou rung. 
 
 * Cato. 
 
 t Seneca. 
 
 $ Socrates. 
 
JAMES OTIS. 
 
 155 
 
 Relate, inspiring muse! 
 
 re shall I find 
 A blooming virgin with an angel mind? 
 UnbleniishM a? the white-rob'd virgin quire 
 That fed, O Rome! thy consecrated fire? 
 By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good, 
 Averse to vice, and zealous for her God? 
 Relate, in what blest region can I find 
 Such bright perfections in a female mind? 
 What phoenix-woman breathes the vital air 
 So greatly good, and so divinely fair? 
 Sure not the gay and fashionable train, 
 Licentious, proud, immoral, and profane; 
 Who spend their golden hours in antic dress, 
 Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease. 
 
 Lo ! round the board a shining train appears 
 In rosy beauty, and m prime of years! 
 This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves, 
 This shows the trophies of her former loves; 
 Polly avers, that Sylvia drest in green, 
 When last at church the gaudy nymph was seen; 
 Chloe condemns her optics; and will lay 
 'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey; 
 Lucy, invested with judicial power, 
 Awards 'twas neither, — and the strife is o'er. 
 Then parrots, lap dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaux, 
 Fans, ribands, tuckers, patches, furbelocs, 
 In quick succession, thro' their fancies run, 
 And dance incessant, on the flippant tongue. 
 And when, fatigu'd with ev'ry other sport. 
 The belles prepare to grace the sacred court, 
 They marshal all their forces in array, 
 To kill with glances, and destroy in play. 
 Two skilful maids with reverential fear, 
 In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair; 
 Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples 
 
 pour 
 The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial shower; 
 One pulls the shape-creating stays; and one 
 Encircles round her waist the golden zone; 
 Not with more toil to improve immortal charms, 
 Strove Juno, Venus, and the queen of arms. 
 When Priam's son adjudg'd the golden prize, 
 To the resistless beauty of the skies. 
 At length, equip'd in Love's enticing arms, 
 With all that glitters, and with all that charms, 
 The ideal goddesses to church repair, 
 Peep thro' the fan, and mutter o'er a pray'r, 
 Or listen to the organ's pompous sound, 
 Or eye the gilded images around; 
 Or, deeply studied in coquettish rules, 
 Aim wily glances at unthinking fools; 
 Or show the lily hand with graceful air, 
 Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair: 
 And when the hated discipline is o'er. 
 And misses tortur'd with repent, no more, 
 They mount the pictur'd coach ; and, to the play, 
 The celebrated idols hie away. 
 
 Not so the lass that should my joys improve, 
 With solid friendship, and connubial love: 
 A native bloom, with intermingled white, 
 Should set her features in a pleasing light ; 
 Like Helen flushing with unrival'd charms, 
 When raptur'd Paris darted in her arms. 
 But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek, 
 A downy bosom, or a snowy 7 neck 1 
 Charms ill supply the want of innocence, 
 Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence: 
 But in her breast let moral beauties shine, 
 Supernal grace and purity divine: 
 Sublime her reason, and her native wit 
 Unstrain'd with pedantry, and low conceit ; 
 Her fancy lively, and her judgment free 
 From female prejudice and bigotry : 
 Averse to idol pomp, and outward show, 
 
 The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau. 
 
 The fop's impertinence she should despise, 
 
 Tho' sorely wounded by her radiant eyes ; 
 
 But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind, 
 
 By learning polish'd,. and by wit refin'd, 
 
 Who all her virtues, without guile, commends, 
 
 And all her faults as freely reprehends. 
 
 Soft Hymen's rites her passion should approve, 
 
 And in her bosom glow the flames of love : 
 
 To me her soul, by sacred friendship, turn, 
 
 And I, for her, with equal friendship burn : 
 
 In ev'ry stage of life afford relief, 
 
 Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief; 
 
 Unshaken, walk in Virtue's peaceful road, 
 
 Nor bribe her Reason to pursue the mode ; 
 
 Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n, 
 
 Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heaven. 
 
 This be the partner, this the lovely wife, 
 
 That should embellish and prolong my life, 
 
 A nymph! who might a second fall inspire, 
 
 And fill a glowing cherub with desire! 
 
 With her I'd spend the pleasurable day, 
 
 While fleeting minutes gayly daue'd away: 
 
 With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green, 
 
 Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene ; 
 
 Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs, 
 
 Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs. 
 
 Imparadis'd within 1113' eager arms, 
 
 I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms ; 
 
 Oft on her panting bosom would I lay, 
 
 And in dissolving raptures melt away; 
 
 Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest, 
 
 My blooming fair should slumber at my breast. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 And when decrepit! age (frail mortals' doom) 
 Should bend my wither' d body to the tomb, 
 No warbling syrens should retard my flight 
 To heavenly mansions of unclouded light. 
 Tho' Death, with his imperial horrors crowu'd, 
 Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd, 
 Offences pardon'd and remitted sin, 
 Should form a calm serenity within : 
 Blessing my natal and my mortal hour, 
 (My soul committed to the eternal pow'r) 
 Inexorable Death should smile, for I 
 Who knew to live, would never fear to die. 
 
 JAMES OTIS, 
 The first writer of the Revolution, was born in 
 Barnstable, Feb. 5, 1724. He was prepared for 
 Harvard College by the Rev. Jonathan Russell, 
 and graduated in 1743. Eighteen months after 
 he commenced the study of law in the office of 
 Jeremiah Gridley, and was admitted in 1748, at 
 Plymouth, where he resided. Two years after he 
 removed to Boston. His practice soon became 
 extensive. In 1755, he married Miss Ruth Cun- 
 ningham, the daughter of a merchant of Boston. 
 In 1700, he was engaged in the famous case of 
 the Writs of Assistance — a new regulation intro- 
 duced by the English government, by which the 
 courts were called upon to protect the officers 
 of the customs in forcibly entering and searching 
 the premises of merchants in quest of dutiable 
 goods. Pending the application to the Superior 
 Court for these writs, Sewell, the chief justice, 
 died, and Lt. Gov. Hutchinson was appointed his 
 successor. The elder Otis condemned this multi- 
 plication of offices in the hands of one person, and 
 this opposition and the future proceedings of 
 himself and son have been charged against them 
 as instigated by revenge, he having expected tie 
 
156 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 office himself. The charge is branded as an 
 " execrable he" by John Adams. Otis defended 
 the merchants in this case, and "with success. 
 " American Independence was then and there 
 barn."* His speech was widely circulated, and 
 its author was elected to the State Legislature in 
 May, 1761. In 1762, he published a pamphlet, 
 entitled A Vindication of the Conduct of the 
 House of Representatives. It was a defence of 
 an address to the governor in answer to his 
 message announcing an addition to the armament 
 of. the Massachusetts sloop (a small matter in 
 itself, but involving the principle of the expendi- 
 ture of the public money without the action of 
 the legislature). This address, drawn up by Otis, 
 contained the following passage : " It would be of 
 little consequence to the people whether they 
 were subject to George or Louis, the king of 
 Great Britain or the French king, if both were 
 arbitrary, as both would be, if both could levy 
 taxes without Parliament." A member cried out 
 " treason" when it was read, but the address 
 was passed by a large majority. " How many 
 volumes," says John Adams, "are concentrated 
 in this little fugitive pamphlet! Look over the 
 Declarations of Rights and Wrongs, issued by 
 Congress in 1774. Look into the Declaration of 
 Independence in 1776. Look into the writings 
 of Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley. Look into all the 
 French constitutions of government, and, to cap 
 the climax, look into Mr. Thomas Paine's Com- 
 mon Sense, Crisis, and Eights of Man ; what 
 can you find that is not to be found in solid sub- 
 stance in this Vindication of the House of Repre- 
 sentatives ?" 
 
 ji^r^i/ e^/ 
 
 In 1764, Otis's Rights of the British Colonies 
 Asserted and Proved, a pamphlet of 120 pages 
 8vo., appeared. Its argument is given with 
 admirable concision in the summary near its 
 close. 
 
 The 6um of my argument is, that civil govern- 
 ment is of God, that the administrators of it were 
 
 * John Adams. 
 
 originally the whole people ; that they might have 
 devolved it on whom they pleased : that this devo- 
 lution is fiduciary, for the good of the whole : that 
 by the British constitution, this devolution is on the 
 king, lords, and commons, the supreme, sacred, and 
 uncontrollable legislative power, not only in the 
 realm, but through the dominions: that by the 
 abdication, the original compact was broken to 
 pieces ; that by the revolution it was renewed, and 
 more firmly established, and the rights and liberties 
 of the subject in all parts of the dominions more 
 fully explained and confirmed: that inconsequence 
 of this establishment and the acts of succession and 
 union, his Majesty George III. is rightful king and 
 sovereign, and with his parliament, the supreme 
 legislative of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, 
 and the dominions thereunto belonging : that this 
 constitution is the most free one, and by far the 
 best now existing on earth : that by this constitu- 
 tion, every man in the dominions is a free man: that 
 no part of his Majesty's dominions can be taxed 
 without their consent : that every part has a right 
 to be represented in the supreme or some subordi- 
 nate legislature, that the refusal of this would seem 
 to be a contradiction in practice to the theory of the 
 constitution : that the colonies are subordinate 
 dominions, and are now in such a state, as to make 
 it best for the good of the whole that they should 
 not only be continued in the enjoyment of subordi- 
 nate legislation, but be also represented in some pro- 
 portion to their number and estates in the grand 
 legislation of the nation: that this would firmly 
 unite all parts of the British empire, in the greatest 
 peace and prosperity ; and render it invulnerable 
 and perpetual. 
 
 Otis was elected to the first or Stamp Act Con- 
 gress, but after the publication of his last work 
 took a less prominent part in public debate. 
 
 Sept. 4, 1769, he published an advertisement 
 in the Boston Gazette, denouncing the commis- 
 sioners of the customs who had sent over to Eng- 
 land false and libellous charges against him. The 
 next evening he met Robinson, one of these per- 
 sons, in a coffee-house. An altercation ensued, 
 Robinson struck him with a cane, Otis returned 
 the blow, was attacked by a number of Robin- 
 son's adherents, and received a severe wound in 
 the head — which is generally supposed to have, 
 led to the insanity which soon after made its 
 appearance, and incapacitated him for future 
 public or professional exertion. He brought an 
 action against Robinson, and recovered £2000 
 damages, which he refused to accept. He retired 
 from the legislature in 1770, and was re-elected 
 in 1771, but did not take any important part in 
 the debates. He withdrew the same year, and 
 passed the remainder of his life at Barnstable and 
 Andover, where he was struck by lightning, May 
 23, 1783, and died instantaneously. His life has 
 been written by William Tudor.* 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF REPRESENTATION. 
 
 A representation in Parliament from the several 
 colonies, since they are become so large and nume- 
 rous, as to he called on not only to maintain 
 provincial government, civil and military, among 
 themselves, for this they have cheerfully done, but 
 to contribute towards the support of a national 
 standing army, by reason of the heavy national 
 debt, when they themselves owe a large one, con- 
 
 * Life of James Otis, of Massachusetts. Boston, 1823. 
 
JAMES BOWDOIN. 
 
 157 
 
 traeted in the common cause, cannot be thought an 
 unreasonable thing, nor if asked, could it be called 
 an immodest request. Qm sentit commodum sentire 
 debet et onus, has been thought a maxim of equity. 
 But that a man should bear a burthen for other 
 
 fieople, as well as himself, without a return, never 
 ong found a place in any law-book or decrees, but 
 those of the most despotic princes. Besides the 
 equity of an American representation in parliament, 
 a thousand advantages would result from it. It 
 would be the most effectual means of giving those 
 of both countries a thorough knowledge of each 
 other's interests, as well as that of the whole, which 
 are inseparable. 
 
 Were this representation allowed, instead of the 
 Bcandalous memorials and depositions that have been 
 sometimes, in daj's of old, privately cooked up in an 
 inquisitorial manner, by persons of bad minds and 
 wicked views, and sent from America to the several 
 boards, persons of the first reputation among their 
 countrymen might be on the spot, from the several 
 colonies, truly to represent them. Future ministers 
 need not, like some of their predecessors, have 
 recourse for information in American affairs, to 
 every vagabond stroller, that has run or rid post 
 through America, from his creditors, or to people of 
 no kind of credit from the colonies. 
 
 JAMES BOWDOIN 
 
 Was born in Boston, August 7, 172G. He was 
 of Huguenot descent ; his grandfather Pierre Bau- 
 douin having been a refugee from France on the 
 revocation of the edict of Nantes, who, living for 
 a short time in Ireland, in 1GS7 was an applicant 
 to Governor Andros, in New England, for a grant 
 of land in Maine. His sou, James Bowdoin, be- 
 came a wealthy merchant of Boston ; and his son 
 James, of whom we are writing, inherited a hand- 
 some paternal fortune. He was educated under 
 Master Lovell at the South Grammar School of 
 the city, and was a graduate of Harvard of 1745. 
 At twenty-four years of age he had visited Frank- 
 lin in Philadelphia, and disclosed a taste for scien- 
 tific pursuits which induced the philosopher, then 
 twenty years his senior, to communicate to him 
 his papers on Electricity. This was the begin- 
 ning of a correspondence by which the friends 
 have become united in reputation. A resume of 
 this scientific connexion is given by the Hon.E.C. 
 Winthrop, a descendant of Bowdoin, in his ad- 
 dress on the Life and Services of Bowdoin .* 
 
 At the outset of this correspondence, Bowdoin 
 appears to have availed himself of the invitation to 
 make observations on Franklin's theories and specu- 
 lations, with somewhat more of independence of 
 opinion than might have been expected from the 
 disparity of their ages. One of his earliest letters 
 (21st Dec. 1751") suggested such forcible objections 
 to the hypothesis, that the sea was the grand source 
 of electricity, that Franklin was led to say in his re- 
 ply, (24th January, 1752,) — "I grow more doubtful 
 of my former supposition, ami more ready to allow 
 weight to that objection, (drawn from the activity 
 of the electric fluid and the readiness of water to 
 conduct,) which you have indeed stated with great 
 strength and clearness." In the following year 
 Franklin retracted this hypothesis altogether. The 
 same letter of Bowdoin's contained an elaborate ex- 
 plication of the cause of the crooked direction of 
 lightning, which Franklin pronounced, in his reply, 
 
 * Wintbrop's Maine Historical Soc. Address, 1849, pp. 10-12. 
 
 to be " both ingeniou? and Solid," — adding, " when 
 we can account as satisfactorily for the electrifica- 
 tion of clouds, I think that branch of natural philo- 
 sophy will be nearly complete." 
 
 In a subsequent letter.Bowdoin suggested a theory 
 in regard to the lurninousness of water under certain 
 circumstances, ascribing it to the presence of minute 
 phosphorescent animals, of which Franklin said, in 
 his reply, (13th Dec. 1753.) — "The observations you 
 made of the sea water emitting more or less light in 
 different tracts passed through by your boat, is new, 
 and your mode of accounting for it ingenious. It is, 
 indeed, very possible, that an extremely small ani- 
 malcule, too small to be visible even by our best 
 glasses, may yet give a visible light." This theory 
 has since been very generally received. 
 
 Franklin soon after paid our young philosopher 
 the more substantial and unequivocal compliment of 
 sending his letters to London, where they were read 
 at the Royal Society, and published in a volume with 
 his own. The Royal Society, at a later day, made 
 Bowdoin one of their fellows ; and Franklin writing 
 to Bowdoin from London, Jan. 13, 1772, says: "It 
 gives me great pleasure that my book afforded any 
 to my friends. I esteem those letters of yours among 
 its brightest ornaments, and have the satisfaction to 
 find that they add greatly to the reputation of 
 American philosophy." 
 
 He bore a leading part in the political agita- 
 tions of the times, in opposition to the parliamen- 
 tary and local government tyranny ; and was an 
 early advocate of the union of the Colonies. He 
 was a member of the Colonial Council, where his 
 patriotism rendered him an object of dread to 
 Governor Bernard and Hutchinson, while he was 
 specially set aside by the English home govern- 
 ment, He was elected to the Old Continental 
 Congress and prevented attendance only by family 
 illness. His own health was weak, and his life 
 became a long consumptive disease ; but he was 
 always vigorous in public affairs. In 1785, he 
 became Governor of the Commonwealth, in the 
 discharge of the duties of which he applied all 
 his energies to the suppression of Shay's Rebel- 
 lion against law and order. He lived to see his 
 efforts for union fully established in the formation 
 of the Federal Constitution ; received Washing- 
 ton, with whom he had conferred on the perilous 
 heights of Dorchester, in 1776, at his house in 
 Boston in 1789 ; and on the 6th of November, 
 1790, followed, after an interval of a few months, 
 his old friend Franklin to the grave. 
 
 Besides his participation in Franklin's dis- 
 coveries, he has a claim upon our attention here 
 as a contributor to the Pietas et G-ratulatio, the 
 volume of Cambridge poems on the accession of 
 George III., to which he contributed three articles,* 
 and the author of a volume of verses published 
 anonymously in Boston, in 1759. His Para- 
 phrase of the Economy of Human Life furnishes 
 at least a pleasing study of the tastes of the man 
 and the period. He was a fellow of the Corpo- 
 ration of Harvard College, subscribed liberally to 
 its funds, and left the institution a handsome 
 legacy to be applied to the encouragement of 
 literature in premiums among the students. He 
 was one of the founders and first Presidents of the 
 American Academy of Arts and Sciences in Bos- 
 ton, and published a philosophical discourse on 
 
 * Ante, p. 13. 
 
15S 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 % 
 
 his inclusion in 17S0. The poem of Bowdoin, to 
 which we have alluded, is called a Paraphrase 
 of Dodsley's collection of aphorisms under that 
 title * but, though it originated in a simple ver- 
 sion of the Economy, it is rather an amplification 
 or extension of that little work, with new illus- 
 trations. It follows the original in its general 
 classification of personal duties and emotions, and 
 the relation of the sexes, without taking up each 
 of the topics. Bowdoin's is good moral sense, in 
 a good declamatory tone, without much origi- 
 nality. As an example of its more pleasing de- 
 scriptions, we may take a passage on the Virtu- 
 ous Woman, in the section on I>esire and Love. 
 
 Now view the maid, the love inspiring maid, 
 
 With virtue and with modesty array'd : 
 
 Survey her matchless form ; her mind survey ; 
 
 And all their beauty in full light display. 
 
 Her matchless form, display'd in open light, 
 
 Attracts the eye, and charms the ravish'd sight. 
 
 Survey'd, and re-survey'd from feet to head, 
 
 A thousand nameless beauties round her spread: 
 
 See down her neck the charming locks descend ; 
 
 And, black as jet, in waving ringlets end : 
 
 As down her beauteous neck they careless flow, 
 
 The lovely white to great advantage show: 
 
 Her comely neck with symmetry and grace, 
 
 Rises majestic on its noble base : 
 
 And, like a column of superior art, 
 
 Does to the eye a fine effect impart : 
 
 Her piercing eyes their harmless lightning play : 
 
 And dart around a joy-diffusing ray : 
 
 Her cheeks, adorn'd with lovely white and red, 
 
 May vie with roses in their fiow'ry bed : 
 
 Her coral lips, whene'er she speaks, disclose 
 
 The finest iv'ry in concentric rows: 
 
 Her tempting breasts in whiteness far outgo 
 
 The op'ning lily, and the new fal'n snow : 
 
 Her tempting breasts the eyes of all command, 
 
 And gently rising court the ani'rous hand : 
 
 Their beauty and proportion strike the eye, 
 
 And art's best skill to equal them defy. 
 
 These matchless charms, which now in bloom ap- 
 pear, 
 Are far exalted by the dress they wear: 
 With virtue rob'd, with modesty attir'd, 
 They're more and more b} r all mankind admii'd 
 With virtue rob'd, with modesty array'd, 
 They're in the fairest light to all display'd : 
 True virtue and true modesty inspire 
 Witli love sincere, unmix'd with base desire ; 
 Set off the beauties of her lovely face ; 
 And give each feature a peculiar grace: 
 Each feature sheds a joy-inspiring ray ; 
 And all around are innocently gay: 
 Each feature speaks the goodness of her mind ; 
 By pride untainted, gen'rous, frank and kind. 
 How full of innocence her sprightly eye ! 
 Which with the dove's in innocence may vie : 
 From falsehood and from guile how free her heart! 
 How free from cunning and intriguing art ! 
 How sweet her kiss ! than honey far more sweet ; 
 And like her lips exempt from ail deceit : 
 Her lips far sweeter odors breathe around, 
 Than e'er exhal'd from India's od'rous ground ; 
 More sweet than e'er perfum'd the spicy coast ; 
 More 6weet than fam'd Arabia can boast. 
 
 * A Paraphrase on Part of the Economy of Human Life, in- 
 scribed to his Excellency Thomas Pownall, Esq.. Governor of 
 the Province of the Massachusetts Bay. Boston, New England : 
 Printed and Sold bv Oreen and Eussell, at their Pnnting- 
 Offlce, in Queen St. 1750. 
 
 Than roses far more grateful is her smile; 
 And more than roses can the sense beguile. 
 
 These are her charms — her charms as bright ap- 
 pear 
 
 As yonder stars that deck heav'n's sparkling 
 sphere ; 
 
 And like to her's, which bro't down fabled Jove, 
 
 Conquer the breast least capable of love. 
 
 The reader may like to compare Bowdoin with 
 his original Dodsley. We add a few sentences 
 from the latter's brief parallel chapter. 
 
 The madness of desire shall defeat its own pur- 
 suits; from the blindness of its rage thou shalt 
 rush upon destruction. 
 
 Therefore give not up thy heart to her sweet en- 
 ticements ; neither suffer thy soul to be enslaved by 
 her enchanting delusions. 
 
 When virtue and modesty enlighten her charms, 
 the lustre of a beautiful woman is brighter than the 
 stars of heaven ; and the influence of her power it 
 is in vain to resist. 
 
 The innocence of her eye is like that of the 
 turtle ; simplicity and truth dwell in her heart. 
 
 The kisses of her mouth are sweeter than honey: 
 the perfumes of Arabia breathe from her lips. 
 
 Dodsley's 'sentiments have a strong flavor of 
 common-place to readers of the present day, but 
 they were once very popular. James Bowdoin, 
 the son of the preceding, was a gentleman of 
 many accomplishments. He was born Sept. 22, 
 1752, and died Oct. 11, 1811. He gave much 
 attention to literary pursuits, and on the incorpo- 
 ration of Bowdoin College, at Brunswick, in 
 Maine, made it a donation of one thousand acres 
 of land, and more than eleven hundred pounds. 
 He was sent by Jefferson as minister to Spain in 
 1805, and subsequently to France, and remained 
 abroad till 1808, passing two years in Paris, 
 where he made a collection of books and minerals 
 which he subsequently presented to Bowdoin 
 College. He lived during the summer months on 
 Naushaun Island, near Martha's Vineyard. He 
 was interested in the cultivation of sheep, and 
 translated Daubenton's Advice to Shepherds. He 
 published anonymously, Opinions respecting the 
 Commercial Intercourse ietween the United 
 States and Great Britain. A short time before 
 his death he gave a valuable grant of land to 
 Bowdoin College, and by his last will bequeathed 
 a philosophical apparatus, and a costly collection 
 of paintings to that institution. 
 
 EZRA STILES. 
 
 TnE grandfather of Ezra Stiles was brought an 
 infant to New England, in 1634. The family set- 
 tled in Windsor, Connecticut, in 1635. The Rev. 
 Isaac Stiles was his son, and settled, as minister, 
 at North Haven. He married a daughter of the 
 Bev. Edward Taylor, of Westfield, Mass., who 
 died a few days after giving birth to their only 
 child, Ezra, December 10, 1727. He was prepared 
 for Yale College by his father, at the early age 
 of twelve, but his entrance was wisely deferred 
 until three years later. He was graduated with 
 distinguished honors in 1746, and remained a 
 resident at the college, where he was chosen a 
 tutor, in May, 1749. He was licensed, and 
 preached his first sermon, in June of the same 
 
EZRA STILES. 
 
 159 
 
 year, and in the following September received 
 the Master's degree, being regarded as one of the 
 ablest scholars the institution had produced. In 
 1752, finding the exertion of preaching prejudicial 
 to his health, and influenced to some extent by 
 religious doubts, by which his mind was then dis- 
 turbed, he commenced the study of the law, with 
 a view to a change in his career. In 1754, he 
 made a tour to Boston, New York, and Philadel- 
 phia, with great benefit to bis health. In April 
 of the following year, he accepted an invitation to 
 preach during the college vacation, at Newport, 
 B. I., and soon after received a call to retain the 
 position permanently. After much deliberation, 
 he determined to abandon the law and accept the 
 appointment. He had previously, by laborious 
 study and earnest thought, dispelled the theologi- 
 cal difficulties which had disturbed his mind, and 
 was ready to devote himself with earnestness and 
 zeal to his sacred calling. His clerical duties did 
 not, however, prevent his attention to the scien- 
 tific and philological studies in which he also de- 
 lighted. 
 
 In 1757, he married Elizabeth, daughter of 
 Ool. John Hubbard, of New Haven. 
 
 A discourse delivered on the public thanksgiv- 
 ing for the capture of Montreal, September 8, 
 1700, shows him to have been among the first to 
 foresee American Independence. He says : " It is 
 probable that, in time, there will be formed a 
 Provincial Confederacy, and a Common Council, 
 standing on free provincial suffrage : and this may, 
 in time, terminate in an imperial diet, when the 
 imperial dominion will subsist, as it ought, in elec- 
 tion." In July, 1766, he was urged to allow him- 
 self to be proposed as a candidate for the presi- 
 dency of Yale College, but declined. The proposal 
 
 was renewed by his formal election, in 1777. He 
 was at this time resident at Portsmouth, having 
 removed on the British occupation of Newport, 
 until " it might please Divine Providence to re- 
 assemble his dear scattered flock." At the urgent 
 solicitation of his own and the friends of the col- 
 
 lege, he accepted the office, and commenced its 
 duties, June 23, 1778. 
 
 In the spring vacation of 1780, the British hav- 
 ing evacuated Newport, the President paid a visit 
 to his old congregation. The church had been 
 desecrated by the enemy, who "had put up a 
 chimney in the middle of it, and demolished all 
 the pews and seats below, and in the galleries, 
 but had left the pulpit standing. My little zealous 
 flock," says the President, "took down the chim- 
 ney, and cleansed the meeting house, and then 
 procured some benches, made for the king's troops' 
 entertainment and left behind : so that we attend- 
 ed divine service very conveniently, though with 
 a pleasure intermixed with tender grief." He 
 retained his Presidency with high honor to him- 
 self and usefulness to the institution, until his 
 death, May 12, 1795. 
 
 Dr. Stiles was an indefatigable student through- 
 out his life. By the aid of a Jewish acquaintance 
 in Newport, he instructed himself in Hebrew, and 
 afterwards acquired an acquaintance with the 
 other oriental languages. He corresponded with 
 the Jesuits on the geography of California, with 
 Greek bishops on the physical formation of Pales- 
 tine and the adjacent countries, and addressed 
 queries of a scientific and philological nature to 
 travellers from the interior of Africa, Behring's 
 Straits, and other remote regions. The late 
 Chancellor Kent, who was one of Stiles's pupils 
 i in the college, has paid a handsome tribute to the 
 ! warmth and character of his political principles 
 and personal virtues: "President Stiles's zeal for 
 i civil and religious liberty was kindled at the altar 
 j of the English and New England Puritans, and 
 it was animating and vivid. A more constant 
 and devoted friend to the Revolution and inde- 
 pendence of this country never existed. He had 
 anticipated it as early as the year 1760, and his 
 whole soul was enlisted in favor of every measure 
 which led on gradually to the formation and 
 establishment of the American Union. The fre- 
 quent appeals which he was accustomed to make 
 i to the heads and hearts of his pupils, concerning 
 the slippery paths of youth, the grave duties of 
 life, the responsibilities of man, and the perils, 
 and hopes, and honors, and destiny of our coun- 
 try, will never be forgotten by those who heard 
 them ; and especially when he came to touch, as he 
 often did, with 'a master's hand and prophet's 
 fire,' on the bright vision of the future prosperity 
 
 and splendor of the United States Take 
 
 him for all in all, this extraordinary man was 
 undoubtedly one of the purest and best gifted 
 men of his age. In addition to his other emi- 
 nent attainments he was clothed with humility. 
 with tenderness of heart, with disinterested kind- 
 ness, and with the most artless simplicity. He 
 was distinguished for the dignity of his deport- 
 ment, the politeness of his address, and the 
 urbanity of his manners. Though he was uncom- 
 promising in his belief and vindication of the 
 great fundamental doctrines of the Protestant 
 faith, he was nevertheless of a most charitable 
 and catholic temper, resulting equally from the 
 benevolence of his disposition and the spirit of 
 the Gospel." * 
 
 ♦Address delivered at New Haven, before the Phi Beta 
 Kappa Sueiety, by James Kent, September 18, 1S31. 
 
1G0 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Dr. Channing has also been the eulogist of 
 Stiles. In his discourse at Newport, he speaks 
 with animation of this " noble friend of religious 
 liberty," who "threw a lustre on this island imme- 
 diately before the Revolution ;" and adds, "to the 
 influence of this distinguished man in the cir- 
 cle in which I was brought up, I may owe in part 
 the indignation which I feel towards every inva- 
 sion of human rights. In my earliest years I 
 regarded no human being with equal reverence."* 
 
 Stiles was twice married, his second wife being 
 the widow of William Cheekley, of Providence. 
 One of his daughters married the Rev. Abiel 
 Holmes, by whom his life was written and pub- 
 lished in 1798. There is also a biography by Prof. 
 Kingsley, of Yale, in the second series of Sparks's 
 collection. 
 
 His chief literary production was his History 
 of Three of the Judges of King Charles J.\ A 
 letter written in 1793, by a gentleman of South 
 Carolina, to the President, suggesting a monument 
 to the memory of John Dixwell, one of the three 
 Judges of Charles I. who escaped to and died in 
 this country, led him to the completion of a work 
 on these worthies for which he had long been 
 engaged in collecting materials.]; It appeared in 
 1795. The kindly pen of Chancellor Kent has 
 placed ite political merits in a strong light : " Tins 
 work contains .proof," he says, "that the author's 
 devotion to civil and religious liberty carried him 
 forward to some hasty conclusions ; in like man- 
 ner as his fondness for antiquarian researches 
 tended to lead his mind to credulous excesses. 
 He dwells on trifling traditionary details on a very 
 unimportant inquiry ; but the volume also con- 
 tains a dissertation on republican polity, and his 
 vindication of the resistance of the Long Parlia- 
 ment to King Charles L, and of the judicial trial 
 and condemnation of that monarch. Here he 
 rises into a theme of the loftiest import, and dis- 
 cusses it with his usual boldness, fervor, acuteness, 
 and copiousness of erudition. He takes occasion 
 to condemn all hereditary orders in government, 
 as being incompatible with public virtue and 
 security ; and he was of opinion that monarchy 
 and aristocracy, with all their exclusive political 
 appendages, were going fast into discredit and 
 disuse, under the influence of more just and 
 enlightened notions of the natural equality and 
 liberties of mankind. In these opinions the 
 President did no more than adopt and declare the 
 principles of the most illustrious of the English 
 Puritans under the Stuarts, and of many, at least, 
 of the English Protestant Dissenters under the 
 Brunswick line. His fundamental doctrine, that 
 a nation may bring to trial and punishment delin- 
 quent kings, is undoubtedly true as an abstract 
 proposition, though the right is difficult to define 
 and dangerous in the application. This humble 
 little volume was dedicated to the patrons of un- 
 polluted liberty, civil and religious, throughout 
 
 * Channing's Works, iv. 341. 
 
 t A Historv of Three of tlie Judges of Kins Charles I., Ma- 
 jor General "Whalley, Major General Goffe, and Colonel Dix- 
 well: who at the Restoration, 1660, fled to America, and vrete 
 secreted and concealed in Massachusetts and Connecticut, for 
 near Thirty years. With au account of Mr. Theophihu* Whale, 
 of Narragansett, supposed to have been also one of the Judges. 
 By President Stiles, Hartford. Printed by Elisha Babcoek, 1794. 
 
 t "A Poem, commemorative of Goffe, Whalley, and Dixwell, 
 three of the Judges of Charles I., by Philagathos," was pub- 
 lished in Boston, during the same year. 
 
 the world; and when we consider its subject, its 
 republicanism, its spirit, its frankness, its piety, 
 
 ! its style and its tact, we are almost led to believe 
 that we are perusing the legacy of the last of the 
 Puritans. He gives us also a conspectus or plan 
 of an ideal commonwealth, and it is far superior 
 to the schemes sketched by Harrington, or Mil- 
 ton, or Locke, or Hume, or to any other plan of 
 a republic prior to the establishment of our own 
 American constitutions. It is very much upon 
 the model of some of the best of them, and 
 though entire political equality and universal suf- 
 
 i frage were the basis of his plan, he was fully 
 aware of the dangerous propensities to which 
 they might expose us, and therefore he cheeked 
 the rapidity of his machine by a Legislature of 
 two Houses, chosen, the one for three and the 
 other for six years, and by a single Executive 
 chosen for seven years, and by .an independent 
 Judiciary. In addition to all these guards, he 
 insisted on the necessity of a general diffusion of 
 light and knowledge, and of the recognition of 
 Christianity." 
 
 Stiles's other works consist principally of 
 addresses and sermons. One of the latter is an 
 able plea for the union of various Kew England 
 denominations. - His election sermon in 1783, 
 entitled The United States Elevated to Glory and 
 Honour, is an animated eulogium on the revolu- 
 tionary contest, and an eloquent and sensible anti- 
 cipation of its consequences. In his eulogy of 
 "Washington, his enthusiasm carries him to its 
 utmost limits : — 
 
 Thy fame is of sweeter perfume than Arabian 
 spices iu the gardens of Persia, A Baron de Steuben 
 shall waft its fragrance to the monarch of Prussia; 
 a Marquis de la Fayette shall waft it to a far greater 
 monarch, and diffuse thy renown throughout Europe : 
 listening angels shall catch the odour, waft it to 
 heaven, and perfume the universe. 
 
 Stiles's Diary and bound manuscripts preserved 
 at Yale College, fill some forty -five volumes. Of 
 these fifteen are occupied with his literary Diary, 
 embracing the narrative of daily occurrences, 
 public and private, notices of the books he read, 
 the sermons he preached and heard, and his doc- 
 trinal reflections. It includes numerous important 
 details of the Revolution. A Meteorological 
 Record occupies five volumes; an Itinerary of.his 
 tours, notices of Town and Church Records, 
 Tombstone Inscriptions and such matters, five 
 more ; while the remainder are filled with letters 
 addressed to him, and miscellaneous extracts. He 
 was a good draughtsman, and occasionally sketches 
 plans of the battles. There is an account, in par- 
 ticular, of the battle at Charleston, taken down 
 from the narrative of an eye-witness and par- 
 ticipant, the Rev. Mr. Martin. 
 
 Though the Diary has been freely drawn upon 
 by Dr. Stiles's biographer, Holmes, and consulted 
 since for historical purposes, it contains much 
 unpublished matter worthy to see the light. 
 
 We are indebted to Mr. E. C. Herrick, of Yale, 
 for the following extracts, which exhibit the 
 activity of the n riter's mind, and the extent of 
 his pursuits : — 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE LITERARY IUART OF EZRA STILES. NEW- 
 PORT, R. I. (TILL 1777). 
 
 1770. Mar. 9. 9 Heb. Arab. This day news 
 
EZRA STILES. 
 
 161 
 
 from Boston, that an Affray had happened there 
 between the Inhabitants and the Army, wherein the 
 Soldiery fired and killed three Men and wounded 
 others : upon which the Bells all rang, and the Town 
 thrown into most alarming confusion. This day ends 
 the prediction of Mr. Edwards of Philadelphia. 
 
 1769. June 3. rj Fine serene day. Assiduously 
 employed in observing the Transit of Venus, which 
 will not happen again in above an hundred years, 
 at either node ; and at this descending node again, 
 not in two hundred and forty [36]"years, or before 
 A.D. 2004. 
 
 Oct. 5. 7L Heb. Arab. LenJ Mr. Tutor How, 
 Origines Ecelesiae Alexandrine, by Eutychius, Pa- i 
 triar.cn of that church in the Tenth Century; which 
 I had copied in the Arabic Letter: with the English 
 Translation which I made from the original Arabic. 
 
 This evening visited by a young man, Hamilton, 
 
 set. 20, born a mile from Providence, but brought up 
 in Coventry: can read the Bible, but scarce knows 
 the nine figures; can't set down any sum in figures. 
 Yet has a surprizing Talent at Addition and Multi- 
 plication of large Numbers. I asked him with my 
 watch in my hand, how many minutes there were 
 in Ten Million years ? then in an hundred Million 
 j'ears ? he told them both in less than one minute by 
 my Watch. 
 
 1777. Sept. 19. 9 1 received the following letter 
 from the Rev. Mr. Whittelsey: [announcing that 
 he, Dr. Stiles, had been chosen President of Yale 
 College.] My Election to the Presidency of Yale 
 College is an unexpected and wonderful ordering of 
 
 Divine Providence An hundred and fifty or 
 
 180 Young Gentlemen Students, is a bundle of Wild 
 Fire, not easily controlled and governed, and at best 
 the Diadem of a President is a Crown of Thorns. 
 
 1779. Nov. 1. Mr. Guild, Tutor of Harvard Col- 
 lege, visited us this day. He has been to Philadel- 
 phia, and is planning an Academy of Sciences for 
 Massachusetts. I had much conversation with him 
 upon tills as well as upon an Acadenry of Sciences I 
 am meditating for Connecticut. 
 
 1780. Dec. 19. Mr. Doolittle tells me there has 
 been made, at his Powder Mill, in New Haven, eighty 
 Thousand pounds of Powder since the commence- 
 ment of this war. 
 
 1786. June 29. The spirit for raising silk worms is 
 great in this town, Northford, Worthington, Mans- 
 field, Ac. 
 
 July 8. The German or Wheat Insects have got 
 into and destroyed Squire Smith's Harvest of Rye 
 and Wheat at West Haven, and that of several of 
 his neighbours ; but are not general there. These 
 animalcules which fix in the Joynts of Wheat, and 
 if no Wheat in Rye, have come from the Westward 
 and got into Litchfield and New Haven Counties. 
 
 1787. July 2. The Rev. Manasseh Cutler, of Ips- 
 witch, visited us. He is a great Botanist, and is 
 travelling on to Philadelphia to inspect all vegetables 
 and plants in their state of flowering, with the view 
 of perfecting his Publication upon Indigenous Ameri- 
 can Plants, ranged into Classes, Genera and Species, 
 according to the sexual or Linnfean system. 
 
 Aug. 27. ®Heb. Recita.— Finished'the first Psalm. 
 Judge Ellsworth, a member of the federal conven- 
 tion, just returned from Philadelphia, visited me, 
 and tells me the Convention will not rise under three 
 weeks. He there saw a Steam Engine for rowing 
 Boats against the stream, invented by Mr. Fitch, of 
 Windsor, in Connecticut, He was on board the 
 Boat, and saw the experiment succeed. 
 
 1794. Mr. Whitney brought to my house and 
 6howed us his machine, by him invented, for clean- 
 ing cotton of its seeds. He showed us the model 
 which he has finished to lodge at Philadelphia, in 
 
 VOL. I. — 11 
 
 the Secretary of State's office, when he takes out his 
 
 Patent A curious and very ingenious piece 
 
 of Mechanism. 
 
 1786. Oct. 25. Mr. Tutor Morse desiring to be 
 absent, while spring, in order to make the Tour of 
 the States to Georgia, for perfecting a new edition 
 of his Geography, we elected the Rev. Abiel Holmes 
 Tutor. 
 
 1788. January 7. This Evening I gave permission 
 to the Freshman Class to wear their Hats in the 
 College Yard after the ensuing vacation. Formerly 
 they kept off their Hats the whole Freshman year. 
 About 1775, they were permitted to wear them after 
 May vacation. We now permit them after January 
 vacation. 
 
 1794. July 17. * * * This day I was visited by 
 M. Talleyrand Perigord, Bishop of Autun, &a. . . . 
 and M. Beaumez, Member for the District of Arras, 
 .... Both men of Information, Literature, Calm- 
 ness and Candor : and very inquisitive The 
 
 Bishop has written a piece on Education, and origi- 
 nated the Bill or Act in the National Assembly for 
 setting up schools all over France for diffusing Edu- 
 cation and Letters among the Plebeians. I desired 
 them to estimate the proportion of those who could 
 not read in France. Mr. Beaumez said of 25 mil- 
 lions he judged 20 millions could not read. The 
 Bishop corrected it and said Eighteen Millions. They 
 were very inquisitive about our mode of diffusing 
 knowledge. I told them of our parochial schools from 
 the beginning, and that I had not reason to think there 
 was a single person of the natives in New Haven 
 that could not read. * * * 
 
 ON KINGS — FROM LIVES OF THE JUDGES. 
 
 In like manner we are not to infer the primaeval 
 meaning of a King, or the chief ruler of a sove- 
 reignty among the nations, from the meaning to ' 
 which it has long grown up by use, from the ages 
 of tyranny and usurpation. Kings, Metakim, lead- 
 ers, rulers were primaeval in all nations and countries 
 around the terraqueous globe, and must have been 
 from the spontaneous nature of universal society. 
 The first seventy-two nations immediately after 
 Babel had them. But what were the primaeval 
 kings? Not despots ; rulers by their own will ; but 
 actors forth of the counsel and will of the people, in 
 what for the public was by the people confided to 
 their execution, n&primi inter pares consiliarios, the 
 first or chief baron in the teutonic policies, of a pre- 
 sidential, not autocratical authority, the organ of 
 the supreme council, but of no separate and disjoined 
 power. Early, indeed, among the oriental nations, 
 sprung up a few Ninuses, while in general, for ages, 
 particularly in Europe, they were what they ought 
 to be. If we recede back into early antiquity, and 
 descend thence, even late, into the martial ages, we 
 shall find the reliquice of the original policies, espe- 
 cially in Hesperia, Gaul, Belgium, and Britain, and 
 plainly discern the Duces, the Reges, the heads of 
 nations, by whatever appellation designated, still 
 the pa/res patrice. The additions powers annexed to 
 their titles afterwards, caused them to grow up to 
 ti/ranni, governors of will. Not so in the beginning, 
 when they were like the sachems of Indian nations. 
 And perhaps the primaeval may have subsisted and 
 survived with purity in the Indian sachemdoms, 
 which, however hereditary, are so in a mode un- 
 known to the rest of the world, though perfectly 
 understood by themselves; nor is any man able, 
 with our present ignorance, to comprehend thegenius 
 of their polity or laws, which I am persuaded are 
 wise, beautiful, and excellent; rightly and fairly 
 understood, however hitherto despised by Europe- 
 ans and Americans. We think of a sachem as an 
 
162 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 European king in his little tribe, and negoeiate -with 
 him under mistaken transatlantic ideas. And so are 
 frequently finding them cyphers to certain purposes 
 ■without the collective council of warriors, who are 
 all the men of the nation, whose subordination is 
 settled, and as fixt as that in the feudal system. At 
 times we see a sachem dictating with the seeming 
 authority of a despot, and he is obeyed because of 
 the united sense of the nation — never otherwise. 
 On their views of society, their policy is perfect 
 wisdom. So ancient kingship and council monarchy 
 in Asia and Europe, was like that of Melchisedee, 
 lenient, wise, and efficacious. This still lives in 
 Africa, and amongst some of the hordes of Tartars, 
 as it did in Montezuma and Mango Capae. But 
 these primi inter pares soon grew up into beasts of 
 prey ; until, ages ago, government has been con- 
 signed to the will of mouarchs, and this even with 
 the consent of the people, deluded by the idea that 
 a father of his people could not but rule with affec- 
 tion and wisdom. These in Greece and Sicily were 
 called Tyranui, to distinguish them from Archons, 
 Princes, ami other rulers, by council. All govern- 
 ment was left to will, hoped and expected to have 
 been a wise will. But the experiment raised such 
 horror and detestation, and this official title has for 
 ages become so disgustful and obnoxious, that kings 
 themselves cannot endure it. Jsever will a king 
 hereafter assume the name of a tyrant, nor give the 
 name of Bastile to a national or state prison. The 
 brazen bull of Phalaris was used once ; has been dis- 
 used two thousand years; and will never be used 
 again. So the name of a king now excites horror, 
 and is become as odious in Europe as that of Tyran- 
 nus at Athens, Syracuse, and Agrigentum. The 
 name and title of ting will soon become as disgust- 
 ful to supreme magistrates, in every polity, as that 
 of tyrant, to which it is become synonymous and 
 equipollent. It may take a century or two to ac- 
 complish this extirpation of title ; but the die is cast, 
 kingship is at an end ; like a girdled tree in the 
 forest, it may take a little time to wither and die — 
 but it is dying — and in dying, die it must. Slaying 
 the monster was happily begun by Oliver: but the 
 people spared its life, judiciously given up by hea- 
 ven to be wliipt, and scourged, and tormented witli 
 it two or three centuries more, unless it may be now 
 in its last gasps. jS'ow there must be a supreme and 
 chief ruler in every society, in every polity : and 
 w r as it not for the complex association of insidious 
 ideas, ideas of dread and horror connected with the 
 appellation king, or could it be purged or restored 
 to the purity of antiquity, it might still be safely 
 used in a republic. But this cannot be done. It 
 must therefore be relegated into contemptuous 
 neglect And a new appellation must be taken up 
 — very immaterial what it is, so it be defined to be 
 but primus inter pares consiliarios, stand on fre- 
 quent election, and hereditation for ever repudiated 
 and banished. The charm and unintelligible mys- 
 teries wrapt up in the name of a king being done 
 away, the way would be open for all nations to a 
 rational government and policy, on such plain and 
 obvious general principles, as would be intelligible 
 to the plainest rustic, to the substantial yeomanry, 
 or men of landed estates, which ought to be the 
 body of the population. Every one could under- 
 stand it as plain as a Locke or a Camden. And 
 whatever the Filmers* and Acherlysf may say, 
 
 * Sir Robert Eilmer, who lived in the first half of the 17th 
 century, wrote several works in favor of absolute govern- 
 ment His "Anarchy of a limited and mixed Monarchy,'' 
 in aDSwer to Phil. Hutton's Treatise on Monarchy, LondoD, 
 1646. is probably the one chiefly referred to by Stiles. 
 
 t Roger Acherley wrote and published— The Britannic Con- 
 
 the common people are abundantly capable and 
 susceptible of such a polity. It is greatly wise, 
 therefore, to reject the very name of a king. Many 
 of the enlightened civilians of the Long Parliament 
 and Protectorate saw this. Oliver saw it And 
 who shall say, this was not the governing reason of 
 his rejecting it? 
 
 SAMUEL SEAEOEY. 
 Samuel Seabtjey was the son of the Eev. Sa- 
 muel Seabury, missionary of the Society for the 
 Propagation of the Gospel, at New London, Conn. 
 He was born at Groton in 1728, and was graduated 
 at Yale, 1748. He then went to Scotland to study 
 theology, but, while thus employed, also devoted 
 his attention to medicine. He was ordained, and 
 on his return to America, settled at New Bruns- 
 wick, as the missionary of the Society for the 
 Propagation of the Gospel. In 1756, he removed, 
 with the consent of the Society, to Jamaica, and 
 from thence, in 1766, to Westchester, where he 
 took charge, in addition to his church, of a 
 classical school. Here he wrote and published, 
 anonymously, several pamphlets in favor of the 
 Crown, under the signature of A. W. Farmer. 
 These publications were commonly attributed to 
 him, and were the cause of his being seized in 
 1775, by a party of soldiers, carried to New Ha- 
 ven, and imprisoned. As the fact of authorship 
 could not be proved, he was suffered to relurn to 
 "Westchester, where he continued to exert himself 
 in behalf of the same opinions. After the de- 
 claration of Independence, he removed with his 
 family to New York, on the entry of the British, 
 and remained until the peace, officiating, during 
 a portion of the time, as chaplain to the King's 
 American Regiment, commanded by Col. Fanning, 
 practising medicine for his own and the support 
 of those dependent upon him. 
 
 In March, 1783, immediately after the peace, 
 Dr. Seabury, having been elected bishop by the 
 clergy of Connecticut, sailed for England, and ap- 
 plied for consecration to the Archbishop of York, 
 the see of Canterbury being then vacant. This 
 application failed, in consequence of the inability 
 of the English bishops to dispense with the oath 
 of allegiance to the Crown, and the difficulty of 
 procuring an act of parliament for the purpose. 
 Having spent more than a year in England, in 
 fruitless efforts to overcome these obstacles, Dr. 
 Seabury, in August, 1784, made a similar applica- 
 tion to the bishops of the Scottish Episcopal 
 Church, by whom he was consecrated on Novem- 
 ber 14th, 1784. In the spring of the following 
 year he returned to America, and entered on the 
 duties of his office. He resided at New London, 
 where he also filled his father's place as rector of 
 the church, in addition to his episcopal duties. 
 
 In 1790, he published an address to the minis- 
 ters and congregations of the Presbyterian and 
 Independent persuasions in the United States of 
 America. He also published several sermons 
 delivered on special occasions, and, in 1791, Dis- 
 courses on Several Subjects, in two volumes, to 
 which a third was added in 1798. These dis- 
 
 stitution, or the fundamental Form of Government in Bri- 
 tain, demonstrating the original contract entered into by king 
 and people. Wherein is proved, that the placing on tho 
 throne King William III., was the natural fruit and effect 
 of the original Constitution, &c. London, 1772»» 
 
MERCY WARREN. 
 
 163 
 
 courses displayed the vigor and earnestness of the 
 man, qualities which were also exerted to good 
 effect at the early conventions of the church, in 
 the arrangement of the liturgy and other import- 
 ant matters. Bishop Seabury died, February 25, 
 1796, at New London. 
 
 MERCY WAKKEN. 
 
 Mrs. Warp.ex was a member of a family cele- 
 brated for several generations in American history. 
 She was the third child of Colonel James Otis, 
 of Barnstable, where she was born Sept. 25, 1728. 
 Her early education was greatly aided by the 
 kindness shown to her by the Rev. Jonathan 
 Russell, the village clergyman, who lent her 
 books and directed her ta-.tes. His recommenda- 
 tion to her of Raleigh's History of the World 
 shows that she was a diligent reader, and the 
 perusal of that work is said to have been the 
 basis of her future historical labours. 
 
 ssf^fesis 
 
 '( & l £,/ //a/ / 
 
 7. 
 
 a ; / t ti_ 
 
 About 1754 she married James "Warren, a 
 descendant of one of the first settlers of Ply mouth, 
 where he was at that time a merchant. In 1757, 
 Mr. Wan-en wa9 appointed High Sheriff on the 
 death of his father, who had held the same office. 
 He was not removed by the government until 
 after the actual commencement of the Revolu- 
 tionary conflict, though he took an active part on 
 the eolouial side in all the movements which led 
 to independence. He was the author of the 
 scheme for forming Committees of Correspon- 
 dence, which he suggested to Samuel Adams in 
 1773, by whom it was adopted with marked suc- 
 cess for the American cause. His wife, with 
 father, brother, and husband, prominent leaders in 
 the same cause, could not, with the active and 
 vigorous intellect with which nature had endowed 
 her, fail to be warmly interested in behalf of 
 liberty. Her correspondence shows that she en- 
 joyed the confidence and respect of all the great 
 leaders of the Revolution, with many of whom 
 she exchanged frequent letters. Her advice was 
 sought by men like Samuel and John Adams, 
 
 Jefferson, Dickinson, Gerry, and Knox, and her 
 suggestions received with marked respect. One 
 of these was the Congress of 1765, the first .sug- 
 gestion of which was made by the Corresponding 
 Committee of the New York Assembly. The 
 two Otises, father and son, while on a visit to 
 Mrs. Warren, at Plymouth, talked over this sug- 
 gestion, and it was agreed to propose such a Con- 
 vention in the Massachusetts Legislature, which 
 was done by the younger Otis on the 6th of June 
 following. She was an intimate friend of Mrs. 
 Adams, and the most celebrated men and women 
 of the day were her frequent guests. In her own 
 words, " By the Plymouth fireside were many 
 political plans originated, discussed, and digested." 
 Washington, with other generals of the army, 
 dined with her during her stay at Watertown, 
 one of her several residences during the war. 
 She writes of him as " one of the most amiable 
 and accomplished gentlemen, both in person, 
 mind, and manners, that I have met with." 
 
 Her first publication was The Adulator^ a 
 political satire in a dramatic form. It was fol- 
 lowed by a second satire of a similar design 
 and execution, TheQroup.\ She afterwards wrote 
 two tragedies, The Sack of Rome and The Ladies 
 of Castile, the heroine of the last being Mario 
 de Padilla, the wife of the leader of the popu- 
 lar insurrection against Charles V., in Castile. 
 They were highly commended by Alexander Ham- 
 ilton and John Adam-,J and were published with 
 her poems, most of which had appeared previously, 
 in 1790, with a dedication to Washington.§ One 
 of the most spirited of the lighter portions of the 
 volume is a poetical response to the Hon. John 
 Wiuthrop, who had consulted her on the proposed 
 suspension of trade with England in all but the 
 necessaries of life, as to the articles which should 
 be included in the reservation. It contains a 
 pleasant enumeration of the component parts of 
 a fine lady's toilet of '76. 
 
 A number of specimens are given of Mrs. War- 
 ren's letters, from the manuscript originals in the 
 possession of her descendants, by Mrs. Ellet, in 
 her " Women of the Revolution." They are all 
 marked by good sense and glowing patriotic 
 fervor. A passage descriptive of the entrance 
 into Cambridge of Burgoyne and his Hessians as 
 
 * The Adulator, a tragedy, as it is now acted iu Upper 
 Servia. 
 
 Then let us*ise, my friends, and strive to fill 
 This little interval, this pause of life 
 (While yet our liberty and fates arc doubtful) 
 With resolution, friendship. Roman bravery, 
 And all the virtues we can crowd iuto it ; 
 That Ueav'n may say it ought to be prolong" d. 
 
 Cato's Tragedy. 
 
 Boston. — Printed and sold at tne New Printing Office, near 
 Concert Hall. 1773. Svo. pp. 30. 
 
 t The Group, as lately acted, and to be re-acted, to the won- 
 der of all superior intelligences, nigh head-quarters at Am- 
 boyne. Boston, printed and sold by Edes & Gill, in Queen st. 
 1T7S. 
 
 X John Adams pays this lady a pointed compliment in a let- 
 ! ter to her husband dated December, 1773, when he indulges iu 
 some poetical talk of his own on the Hyson and Congo ottered 
 to Neptune in " the scarcity of nectar and ambrosia among the 
 celestials of the sea," and expresses his wish in reference to 
 that tea party, "to see a late glorious event celebrated by a 
 certain poetical pen which has no equal that I know of in this 
 I country. 1 ' He has also an allusion to Mrs. Warren's character 
 of Ha/.elrod, in her dramatic piece Tlie Group, written at the 
 expense of the Royalists. — Works, ix. 335. 
 
 § Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous, by Mrs. M. Warren. 
 
164 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 prisoners, present" a scene that recalls some of 
 the pictures of Hogarth's March to Finchley. 
 
 La9t Thursday, which was a very stormy day, a 
 large number of British troops came softly through 
 the town, via Watertown, to Prospect Hill. On 
 Friday we heard the Hessians were to make a pro- 
 cession in the same route. We thought we should 
 have nothing to do but to view them as they passed. 
 To be sure the sight was truly astonishing. 1 never 
 had the least idea that the creation produced such a 
 sordid set of creatures in human figure — poor, dirty, 
 emaciated men. Great numbers of women, who 
 seemed to be the beasts of burden, having bushel- 
 baskets on their backs, by which they were bent 
 double. The contents seemed to be pots and kettles, 
 various sorts of furniture, children peeping through 
 gridirons, and other utensils — some very young in- 
 fants, who were born on the road — the women bare- 
 foot, clothed in dirty rngs. Such effluvia filled the 
 air while they were passing, that, had they not been 
 smoking nil the time, I should have been apprehen- 
 sive of being contaminated. 
 
 An anecdote of Burgoyne, from the same letter, 
 is creditable to himself and his captors : — 
 
 General Burgoyne dined on Saturday, in Boston, 
 
 with General . He rode through the town 
 
 properly attended, down Court street, and through 
 the main street ; and on his return walked on foot 
 to Charlestown Ferry, followed by a great number 
 of spectators as ever attended a pope ; and gene- 
 rously observed to an officer with him, the decent 
 and modest behaviour of the inhabitants as he 
 passed ; saying, if he had been conducting prisoners 
 through the city of London, not all the Guards of 
 Majesty could have prevented insults. He likewise 
 acknowledges Lincoln and Arnold to be great gene- 
 rals. 
 
 She writes to the widow of Montgomery (a sis- 
 ter of Chancellor Livingston), January 20, 1776 : — 
 
 While you are deriving comfort from the highest 
 source, it may still further brighten the clouded 
 moment to reflect that the number of your friends 
 is not confined to the narrow limits of a province, 
 but by the happy union of the American colonies 
 (suffering equally by the rigor of oppression), the 
 affections of the inhabitants are cemented; and the 
 urn of the companion of your heart will be sprinkled 
 with the tears of thousands who revere the com- 
 mander at the gates of Quebec, though not person- 
 ally acquainted with General Montgomery. 
 
 One of her correspondents was Mrs. Macanlay, 
 the English authoress, who participated warmly 
 in her republican sympathies. They met for the 
 first time on the visit of the latter to America, in 
 1785. 
 
 She published in 1805, at the age of seventy- 
 seven, a History of the American Revolution, in 
 three volumes 8vo., which she had prepared some 
 time previously from her notes taken during the 
 ■war. 
 
 Mrs. Warren lived to the good old age of eigh- 
 ty-seven, her intellectual powers unimpaired to 
 the last. Eochefoucault De Liancourt speaks of 
 her at seventy as "truly interesting; for lively 
 in conversation, she has lost neither the activity 
 of her mind nor the graces of her person." A 
 lady visitor ten years after speaks of her as erect 
 in person, and in conversation full of intelligence 
 
 and eloquence. Her cheerfulness remained un- 
 impaired, although blindness excluded her from 
 many of the delights of the outer world. Her 
 last illness was disturbed only by the fear that 
 disease might impair her intellectual as well as 
 physical faculties ; a groundless apprehension, as 
 her mind retained its vigor to the last. 
 
 FROM THE LADIES OF CASTILE. 
 
 Not like the lover, but the hero talk — 
 
 The sword must rescue, or the nation sink, 
 
 And self degraded, wear the badge of slaves. 
 
 We boast a cause of glory and renown; 
 
 We arm to purchase the sublimest gift 
 
 The mind of man is capable to taste. 
 
 'Tis not a factious, or a fickle rout, 
 
 That calls their kindred out to private war, 
 
 With hearts envenom'd by a thirst of blood — 
 
 Nor burns ambition, rancour, or revenge, 
 
 As in the bosom of some lordly chief 
 
 Who throws his gauntlet at his sovereign's foot, 
 
 And bids defiance in his wanton rage : — 
 
 'Tis freedom's genius, nurs'd from age to age, 
 
 Matur'd in schools of liberty and law, 
 
 On virtue's page from sire to son eonvey'd, 
 
 E'er since the savage, fierce, barbarian hordes, 
 
 Pour'd in, and ehas'd beyond Karvasia's mount, 
 
 The hardy chiefs who govern'd ancient Spain. 
 
 Our independent ancestors disdain'd 
 
 All servile homage to despotic lords. 
 
 TO TnE HON. .1. WINTHROP, ESQ., WHO ON THE AMERICAN BB- 
 TEP.MINATI0N, IN 1774, TO SUSPEND ALL COMMERCE WITH 
 BRITAIN (EXCEPT FOR THE REAL NECESSARIES OF LIFE), RE- 
 QUESTED A POETICAL LIST OF THE ARTICLES THE LADIES MIGHT 
 COMPRISE UNDER THAT HEAD. 
 
 But does Helvidius, vigilant and wise, 
 Call for a schedule, that may all comprise? 
 'Tis so contracted, that a Spartan sage, 
 Will sure applaud tli' economizing age. 
 
 But if ye doubt, an inventory clear, 
 Of all the needs, Lamira offers here; 
 Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown, 
 When she lays by the rich embroider' d gown, 
 And modestly compounds for just enough — 
 Perhaps some dozens of more slighty stuff; 
 With lawns and lustrings — blond and mecklin 
 
 laces, 
 Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer eases, 
 Gay cloaks and hats, of every shape and size, 
 Scarfs, cardinals, and ribbons of all dyes; 
 With ruffles stamp'd, and aprons of tambour. 
 Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least three score; 
 With finest muslins that fair India boasts, 
 And the choice herbage from Chinesan coasts. 
 (But while the fragrant hyson leaf regales, 
 Who'll wear the homespun produce of the vales? 
 For if t'would save the nation from the curse 
 Of standing troops; or, name a plague still worse, 
 Few can this choice delicious diaughb»give up, 
 Though all Medea's poisons fill the cup.) 
 Add feathers, furs, rich sattins and du capes, 
 And head dresses in pyramidal shapes; 
 Side-boards of plate, and porcelain profuse, 
 AVith fifty dittos that the ladies use; 
 If my poor treach'rous memory has miss'd, 
 Ingenious T — 1 shall complete the list. 
 So weak Lamira, and her wants so few, 
 WLo can refuse ? they're but the sex's due. 
 
 In youth, indeed, an antiquated page, 
 Taught us the threatenings of an Hebrew safe 
 Gainst wimples, mantles, curls and crisping pins, 
 But rank not these among our modern sins ; 
 
GEORGE BERKELEY. 
 
 165 
 
 For when our manners are well understood, 
 WUat in the scale is stomacher or hood ? 
 
 lis true, we love the courtly mien and air, 
 The pride of dress, and all the debonair; 
 Yet Clara quits the more dress'd negligee, 
 And substitutes the careless polanee; 
 Until some fair one from Britannia's court, 
 Some jaunty dress, — or newer taste import; 
 This sweet temptation could not be withstood, 
 Though for the purchase 's paid her father's blood ; 
 Though loss of freedom were the costly price, 
 Or flaming comets sweep the angry skies; 
 Or earthquakes rattle, or volcauos roar; 
 Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more: 
 Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny ? 
 'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply. 
 
 FROM " A POLITICAL REVERIE," JAN. 1774. 
 
 I look with rapture at the distant dawn, 
 And view the glories of the opening morn, 
 When justice holds his sceptre o'er the land, 
 And rescues freedom from a tyrant's hand ; 
 When patriot states in laurel crowns may rise, 
 And ancient kingdoms court them as allies, 
 Glory and valour shall be here displayed, 
 And virtue rear her long dejected head ; 
 Her standard plant beneath these gladden'd skies, 
 Her fame extend, and arts and science rise ; 
 While empire's lofty spreading sails unfuiTd, 
 Roll swiftly on towards the western world. 
 
 ******* * 
 No despot here shall rule with awful sway, 
 Nor orphan's spoils become the minion's prey; 
 No more the widow'd bleeding bosom mourns, 
 Nor injur'd cities weep their slaughter'd sons; 
 For then each tyrant, bj 7 " the hand of fate, 
 And standing troups, the bane of every state, 
 Forever spuru'd, shall be remov'd as far 
 As bright Hesperus from the polar star ; 
 Freedom and virtue shall united reign, 
 And stretch their empire o'er the wide domain. 
 On a broad base the commonwealth shall stand, 
 When lawless power withdraws its impious hand; 
 When crowns and sceptres are grown useless 
 
 things, 
 Nor petty pretors plunder her for kings. 
 
 GEOKGE BERKELEY. 
 " The arrival in America of the Rev. Mr. George 
 Berkeley, then Dean of Derry, afterwards Bishop 
 of Cloyne," says Samuel Miller, in his Retrospect 
 of the Eighteenth Century, " deserves to be 
 noticed in the literary history of America, not 
 only as a remarkable event, but also as one which 
 had some influence on the progress of literature, 
 particularly in Rhode Island and Connecticut."* 
 
 Berkeley was to the country not only a per- 
 sonal friend and benefactor, through the genial 
 example of his scholar's life and conversation, and 
 the gifts which he directly made, but ho brought 
 with him the prestige which attached to high 
 literary reputation, and was a connecting link to 
 America with what is called the Augustan age 
 of Queen Anne. Born in Ireland, March 12, 
 1(184, and educated at Trinity College, Dublin, he 
 had acquired distinction in mathematics and phi- 
 losophy, and before the age of thirtv had vented 
 his celebrated ideal theory in print. He was 
 introduced by Steele and Swift to the circle of 
 
 London wits, who admired the man while they 
 jested at his immaterial philosophy. To the fine 
 speculations of the scholar, he had added a know- 
 ledge of the world, and the liberal associations of 
 travel through his residence in Italy and France. 
 By the friendship of the Duke of Grafton ha 
 
 * Retrospect, ii. 349. 
 
 received his appointment as Dean of Derry; and 
 the death of Swift's Vanessa, who made him one 
 of her legatees, further added to his resources. 
 With all this good fortune at hand, his benevolent 
 enthusiasm led him to engage in the distant and 
 uncertain project of erecting a college in the Ber- 
 mudas, for converting the American Indians to 
 Christianity. He wrote out his Proposal* and 
 his friend Swift gave him a letter to Lord Car- 
 teret to second the affair, with a humorous ac- 
 count of the amiable projector. " He is an absolute 
 philosopher with regard to money, titles, and 
 power ; and for three years past hath been struck 
 with a notion of founding a university at Ber- 
 muda, by a charter from the crown. He shewed 
 me a little tract which he designs to publish, and 
 there your Excellency will see his whole scheme 
 of a life academico-philosophical of a college 
 founded for Indian schools and missionaries, 
 where he most exorbitantly proposeth a whole 
 hundred pounds a year for himself, forty pounds 
 for a fellow, and ten for a student. His heart will 
 break if his deanery be not taken from him, and 
 left to your Excellency's disposal.' t 
 
 Berkeley was an ingenious political economist, 
 as his book, The Querist, proves; and managing 
 to connect his scheme with plans of advantage to 
 the Government, he gained, through one of his 
 Italian friends, the ear of George I., who ordered 
 Sir Robert Walpole to carry the project through. 
 St. Paul's College, Bermuda, was incorporated, 
 
 * A Proposal for the Better Supplying of Churches in our 
 Foreign Plantations; and for Converting the Savage Americans 
 to Christianity, by a College to be Erected in the Summer 
 Islands, otherwise called the Isles of Bermuda. Lond. 17'.25. 
 
 t Swift to Lord Carteret, Sept. 3, 1724. 
 
166 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and twenty thousand pounds promised for its 
 support. 
 
 Dean Berkeley set sail, or at least was ready to 
 embark from Gravesend, September 6, 1728, for 
 the New World* He had just completed the 
 honeymoon of his marriage with Anne Forster, 
 the daughter of the Speaker of the Irish House 
 of Commons, to whom he had been united on the 
 first of August, — and of "whom he writes before 
 leaving England, at this time, to his friend Thomas 
 Prior, as a lover should, that " her humor and 
 turn of mind pleases me beyond anything I know 
 in her whole sei." This lady accompanied him 
 with her i'riend, " my Lady Hancock's daughter ;" 
 and three gentlemen completed the party, Mr. 
 James, Mr. Dalton, and Mr. Smibert. The last 
 was the artist whose name is prominently con- 
 nected with the early history of American art. 
 He sketched a group of his fellow-travellers in 
 the cabin, at sea, at least this is one of the Berke- 
 ley traditions, — which he afterwards painted, in 
 the interesting picture which now hangs in the 
 Gallery of Yale College.t If so, he made the addi- 
 tion of the child in his wife's arms subse- 
 quently, for that infant was born in Ame- 
 rica.} The travellers reached Newport the 
 23d of January, 1729, after a protracted pas- 
 sage of rive months. § There is a tradition, 
 which is probably worth very little, that 
 Berkeley sent a letter on coming up the bay 
 to the Rev. James Iloneyman, the Episcopal 
 
 * There is a tradition that Berkeley sailed for 
 Bermuda directly, and that the captain of the vessel, 
 not finding his way to that island, accidentally put 
 into Newport. This is so stated in the Memoir in 
 Updike's History of the Narragansett Church (p. 395); 
 but the matter is conclusively set at rest by Berkeley's 
 own letter to his friend Thomas Prior, dated Graves- 
 end, Sept. 5,1728, where he says: "To-morrow, with 
 God's blessing, I set sail for Rhode Island." — Letters 
 appended to Memoir of Berkeley. Edition of, his 
 works by Priestley. London, 1820, i. xxxvi. 
 
 t Smibert," says Mr. H. T. Tuckerman, in an article on 
 Berkeley in the North American Review, for January, 1855, p. 
 190, "was the first educated artist who visited our shores, and 
 this picture was the first of more than a single figure executed 
 in the country." Smibert had risen in his art from the hum- 
 ble fortunes of a house-painter. Horace Walpole describes 
 him in his Anecdotes of Painting as "a silent and modest man, 
 who abhorred the .finesse of some of his profession, and was 
 enchanted with a plan that he thought promised him tranquil- 
 lity and honest subsistence in a healthful elysian climate, and 
 in spite of remonstrances engaged with the Dean."— Walpole, 
 ed. 1849, 673. We follow Walpole. who follows Vertue, as de- 
 cisive authority for the spelling of the name, about which there 
 has been some uncertainty — John Smibert. 
 
 X There is a description of this painting in the well prepared 
 Catalogue of the College Gallery. " The principal figure is the 
 Dean in his clerical habit. The lady with the child is his wife ; 
 the other lady has been said to be her sister, but more proba- 
 bly is the Miss Hancock who accompanied her to America. 
 The gentleman writing at the table is Sir James Dalton The 
 gentleman standing behind the ladies has been thought by 
 some to be a Mr. WainwriL'ht; but. is undoubtedly Mr. James. 
 The other gentleman in brown is a Mr. John Moffat, a friend 
 of the artist. The remaining figure is the artist Smibert. The 
 Dean is resting his hand on a copy of Plato, his favorite author, 
 and appears to be dictating to Sir James, who is acting as 
 amanuensis. This painting was presented to the college in 
 the year 1808, by Isaac Lothrop, of Plymouth, Mass. It had 
 been preserved in Boston, in a room occupied by the 8ml- 
 berts; certainly by the son, and probably bv the father." 
 
 § A Newport letter dated January 24, describing Berkeley's 
 arrival, was printed in the Boston New England Journal, Sep- 
 tember 3, 1729, It says, " Yesterday arrived here Dean Berke- 
 ley, of Londonderry, in a pretty large ship. He is a gentleman 
 of middle stature, of an agreeable, pleasant, and erect aspect. 
 He was ushered into the town with a <rrcat number of gentle- 
 men, to whom he behaved himself after a very complaisant 
 manner. 'Tis said he purposes to tarry here with his family 
 about three months." If the Dean did not embark on the day 
 proposed, and some delay might have occurred, the time of 
 his passage would, of course, be less. We find the date of the 
 Boston paper in Updike's Narr. Ch., p. 394; the date of the 
 letter in Elton's Memoir of Callender, p. 31. 
 
 clergyman'of the town, which found him at church 
 celebrating a holiday. The intelligence was com- 
 municated to the congregation, Mr. Honeyman 
 dismissed them with his blessing, and the wholo 
 body proceeded to meet the distinguished Dean 
 on the wharf.* Six months passed, and the Dean's 
 Bermuda enterprise still lingered for hick of the 
 prompt receipt of "His Majesty's bounty." The 
 opening of summer reconciled him, however, to 
 the delay. He writes in June of the delight of 
 the climate and of the birth of a son. 
 
 "The truth is," he says, "if the king's bounty 
 could be paid in, and the charter could be removed 
 hither, I should like it better than Bermuda." 
 His friends of the voyage were drawn at the close 
 of the year to Boston, and solicitations were made 
 to carry Berkeley thither, but " preferring quiet 
 and solitude to the noise of a great town," and 
 happy in the " two domestic comforts that arc 
 very agreeable, my wife and my little son," he 
 still remained at Newport in the enjoyment of the 
 country estate which he had purchased. There 
 his acquaintance was sought by Samuel Johnson, 
 
 Whitehall, 
 afterwards the president of King's College in New 
 York, and then a resident in Connecticut, who 
 called his attention to the wants of Yale College, 
 to which he became so liberal a donort of books 
 and land ; after his retirement to England set- 
 tling upon the college his farm of ninety-six acres, 
 to which he had given the name of Whitehall, for 
 the assistance of its scholars } He also made valu- 
 able gifts to the library of Harvard, and when he 
 left Newport distributed the books he had with 
 him among the neighboring clergy. 
 
 It was also after his arrival in England, in 1733, 
 that he presented the organ to Trinity church, at 
 Newport, which is still surmounted by the crown 
 of the olden time, and which bears an inscription 
 that it is the gift of Dr. George Berkeley, late 
 Lord Bishop of Cloyne. 
 
 This organ was originally forwarded to Ame- 
 rica by the Dean, as a gift to the town of Berke- 
 
 * Memoir of Trinity Church, Newport, from 1G9S to 1S1I), 
 compiled from the Records; by Henry Bull, Esq., with Notes 
 by the Rector, Rev. Francis Vinton. — Updike's Narr. Ch. 395. 
 
 t Chandler's Life of Johnson, 55-53; ante, S7. 
 
 J The autograph, which we trive, is taken directly from 
 Berkeley's deed of gift to the college. The woodcut head is 
 after the portrait in the Smibert picture. We find the fol- 
 lowing entry in the New England Weekly Journal, October 
 80, 1732 :— " Newport, October 20.— We bear that the Rev. 
 Mr. George Berkeley, Dean of Londonderry, has given his 
 farm on this island, worth about £3,000, to Yale college, in 
 Connecticut.' 1 
 
GEORGE BERKELEY. 
 
 167' 
 
 ley, in Massachusetts, which had been named 
 after him. The select men of the town, how- 
 ever, were not prepared to harbor so dangerous a 
 guest, and voting that " an organ is an instrument 
 of the devil, for the entrapping of men's souls," 
 declined the offer ; when the Dean conferred it 
 on Trinity.* It still sends forth its strains from 
 some of the old pipes. 
 
 During his pleasant sojourn in America, we 
 always hear of Berkeley in some amiable relation. 
 He compliments the Huguenot refugee, Gabriel 
 Bernon,in a letter written in French, on his "zeal 
 for religion and the glory of God." He. preaches 
 constantly for his friend, the rector of Trinity, the 
 Rev. James Iloneyman, in the pulpit which is still 
 there, while the Quakers stand in their broad- 
 brimmed hats in the aisles to hear him; on one 
 occasion humorously announcing that " to give the 
 devil his due, John Calvin was a great man. "t In 
 company with Smibert, Col. Updike, and Dr. 
 McSparran, he visits the Narraghansett Indians. 
 To his friend, Daniel Updike, the attorney-general 
 of the colony, he presents his " well- wrought 
 silver coffee-pot," still preserved as a relic in the 
 family, as the good bishop's old-fashioned chair, 
 " in which he is believed to have composed the 
 Minute Philosopher," is esteemed as an heir-loom 
 at this day by Dr. Ooit.| There is an anecdote of 
 Berkeley's calculations respecting the value of 
 property at Newport, preserved by a traveller, 
 the Church of England clergyman, Andrew Bur- 
 naby, who visited Newport in 1700, which at 
 this time of day is curious. The growth of New- 
 port, which suffjred a relapse after the Revolu- 
 tion, and was for a long while in abeyance, is now 
 again in the ascendant; not as Berkeley may 
 have anticipated with the commerce of Cheap- 
 side, but with the luxury of the American Babe. 
 " About three miles from town," writes Bur- 
 naby, " is an indifferent woolen house, built by 
 Dean Berkeley, when he was in these parts : the 
 situation is low, but commands a fine view of the 
 ocean, and of some wild rugged rocks that are on the 
 left hand of it. Tluy relate here several strange 
 stories of the Dean's wild and chimerical notions ; 
 which, as they are characteristic of that extra- 
 ordinary man, deserve to be taken notice of. 
 One in particular, I must beg the reader's indul- 
 gence to allow ine to repeat to him. The Dean 
 had formed a plan of building a town upon the 
 rocks, and of cutting a road through a sandy 
 beach which lies a little below it, in order that 
 ships might come up and be sheltered in bad 
 weather. He was so full of this project, as one 
 day to say to one Smibert, a designer, whom he 
 had brought over with him from Europe, on the 
 latter asking some ludicrous question concerning 
 
 * Mason's Newport Illustrated: 99. It is said that there is 
 another claimant for the honors of the organ, in a church of 
 Brooklyn, N. Y. The story goes that the Newport organ 
 boing out of repair, was sent to New York to be put in order. 
 A portion of the pipes were found to be so defective that it 
 was considered expedient to replace them by new ones, which 
 were provided, and forwarded in the old case. It afterwards 
 occurred to a workman that the old metal should not be thrown 
 away; so he restored the rejected pipes, and thev were set up 
 in a new case in the Brooklyn Church. Mason states, "the 
 original case, of English oak, is still in use in the church, and 
 it contains a part of the old works, with the addition of such 
 new pipes as were found necessary when it was rebuilt a few 
 years ago. 1 ' 
 
 t Updike's Narr. Church, 129. 
 
 t Ibid. 290, 306. 
 
 the future importance of the place : ' Truly, you 
 have very little foresight, for in fifty years' time 
 every foot of land in this place will be as valuable 
 as the land in Cheapside.' The Dean's house, 
 notwithstanding his prediction, is at present no- 
 thing better than a farm-house, and his library 
 converted into the dairy: when he left America, 
 he gave it to the college at New Haven, in Con- 
 necticut, who have let it to a farmer on a long 
 lease; his books he divided between this college 
 and that in Massachusetts. The Dean is said to 
 have written in this place The Minute Philoso- 
 pher."* For the value of the farm, it must be 
 great to its present holder ; Yale College having 
 in the last century leased out the land for a term 
 of nine hundred and ninety-nine years, at a rent 
 payable in wheat, which was afterwards com- 
 muted into the present annual receipt of one hun- 
 dred and forty dollars. 
 
 Berkeley left America, by the way of Boston, 
 on his return to England, in September, 1731, and 
 in February of the following year, preached a 
 sermon before the Incorporated Society for the 
 Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, in 
 which he speaks of his observations of the 
 American colony, alluding, among other points, 
 to the fashion of infidelity which had spread 
 from the mother country. This was the topic 
 of his chief work, Alciphron, or the Minute 
 Philosopher, which he published the same year, 
 and which he had penned in America. It 
 is a series of dialogues, after the manner of 
 Plato, ingeniously combating the free-thinking 
 spirit of the age as it manifested itself in 
 " the atheist, libertine, enthusiast, scorner, critic, 
 metaphysician, fatalist, and sceptic." The dia- 
 logue is graced by occasional passages of descrip- 
 tion of the scenery at Newport, in the midst of 
 which it was written. It opens with a reference 
 to the disappointment in the Bermuda scheme. 
 
 I flattered myself, Tbeages, that before this time 
 I might have been able to have sent you anagreea- 
 ble account of the success of the affair which brought 
 me into this remote corner of the country. But 
 instead of this, I should now give you the detail of 
 its miscarriage, if I did not rather choose to enter- 
 tain you with some amusing incidents, which have 
 helped to make me easy under a circumstance I 
 could neither obviate nor foresee. Events are not 
 in our power ; but it always is, to make a good use 
 even of the very worst. And I must needs own, 
 the course and event of this affair gave opportunity 
 for reflections that make me some amends for a 
 great loss of time, pains and expense. A life of 
 action, which takes its issue from the counsels, pas- 
 sions, and views of other men, if it doth not draw a 
 man to imitate, will at least teach him to observe. 
 And a mind at liberty to reflect on its own observa- 
 tions, if it produce nothing useful to the world, seldom 
 fails of entertainment to itself. For several months 
 past I have enjoyed such liberty and leisure in this 
 distant retreat, far beyond the verge of that great 
 whirlpool of business, faction and pleasure, which is 
 called the world. 
 
 The writer describes his host Euphranor, the 
 philosopher and the farmer, two characters not so 
 
 * Travels through the Middle Settlements in North America, 
 In the years 1759 and 17*50. By the Rev. Andrew Burnaby, 
 A.M., Vicar of Greenwich. Load. 4to. 1775. 
 
168 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 inconsistent in nature as by custom they seem to 
 be, and bis friend Crito, who maintain the burden 
 of discourse in behalf of truth and Revelation 
 against the sceptical Alciphron and Lysicles. The 
 first conversation is in the open air — a pleasant 
 picture of the landscape. 
 
 Next morning Euphranor rose early, and spent 
 the forenoon in ordering his affairs. After dinner 
 we took a walk to Crito's, which lay through half a 
 dozen pleasant fields planted round witli plane trees, 
 that are very common in this part of the country. 
 We walked under the delicious shade of these trees 
 for about an hour before we came to Crito's house, 
 which stands in the middle of a small park, beauti- 
 fied with two fine groves of oak and walnut, and a 
 winding stream of sweet and clear water. We met 
 a servant at the door with a small basket of fruit, 
 which he was carrying into the grove, where he said 
 his master was, with the two strangers. "We found 
 them all three sitting under a shade. And after the 
 usual forms at first meeting, Euphranor and I sat 
 down by them. Our conversation began about the 
 beauty of this rural scene, the fine season of the 
 year, and some late improvements which had been 
 made in the adjacent country by new methods of 
 agriculture. 
 
 The next " Dialogue" is carried on by the sea- 
 shore : — 
 
 Next morning Alciphron and Lysicle3 said the 
 weather was so fine they had a mind to spend the 
 day abroad, and take a cold dinner under a shade 
 in some pleasant part of the country. Whereupon, 
 after breakfast, we went down to a beach about 
 half a mile off; when we walked on the smooth 
 sand, witli the ocean on one hand, and on the other 
 wild broken rocks, intermingled witli shady trees 
 and springs of waters, till the sun began to be 
 uneasy. We then withdrew into a hollow glade 
 between two rocks. 
 
 These associations are cherished at Newport, 
 and the spot is pointed out where Berkeley wrote 
 Alciphron. It gives a flavor to the region to 
 have had the fine argument and poetic thoughts 
 of the book written there. Though it belongs to 
 English rather than American literature, we may 
 quote one of its passages, for its bearing upon the 
 author's liberality to our colleges, that in which 
 he refutes an attack of Shaftesbury upon " men of 
 the church and universities" as unfriendly to true 
 learning. 
 
 In the mean time, I must beg to be excused, 
 if I cannot believe your great man on his bare 
 word ; when he would have us think, that igno- 
 rance and ill taste are owing to Christian reli- 
 gion or the clergy, it being my sincere opinion, that 
 whatever learning or knowledge we have among us, 
 is derived from that order. If those, who are so 
 sagacious at discovering a mote in other eyes, would 
 but purge their own, I believe they might easily 
 see tins truth. For what but religion could kindle 
 and preserve a spirit towards learning, in such a 
 northern rough people? Greece produced men of 
 active and subtile genius. The public conventions 
 and emulations of their cities forwarded that genius ; 
 and their natural curiosity was amused and excited 
 by learned conversations, in their public walks and 
 gardens and porticos. Our genius leads to amuse- 
 ments of a grosser kind: we breathe a grosser 
 and a colder air: and that curiosity which was 
 general iu the Athenians, and the gratifying of 
 
 which was their chief recreation, is among our 
 people of fashion treated like affectation, and as 
 such banished from polite assemblies and places 
 of resort; and without doubt would in a little 
 time be banished the country, if it were not for the 
 great reservoirs of learning, where those formalists, 
 pedants, and bearded boys, as your profound critic 
 calls them, are maintained by the liberality and 
 piety of our predecessors. For it is as evident that 
 religion was the cause of those seminaries, as it is 
 that they are the cause or source of all the learning 
 and taste which are to be found, even in those very 
 men who are the declared enemies of our religion 
 and public foundations. Every one, who knows any 
 thing, knows we are indebted for our learning to the 
 Greek and Latin tongues. This those severe censors 
 will readily grant. Perhaps they may not be so 
 ready to grant, what all men must see, that we are 
 indebted for those tongues to our religion. What 
 else could have made foreign and dead languages in 
 such request among us? What could have kept in 
 being and handed them down to our times, through 
 so many dark ages in which the world was wasted 
 and disfigured by wars and violence ? What, but a 
 regard to the Holy Scriptures, and theological 
 writings of the fathers and doctors of the church? 
 And in fact, do we not find that the learning of 
 those times was solely in tlte hands of ecclesiastics, 
 that they alone lighted the lamp in succession one 
 from another, and transmitted it down to after-ages; 
 and that ancient books were collected and pre- 
 served in their colleges and seminaries, when all 
 love and remembrance of polite arts and studies were 
 extinguished among the laity, whose ambition 
 entirely turned to arms? 
 
 A eulogy which might be justly extended to 
 our American seats of literature which have been 
 so greatly indebted to clergymen. 
 
 Berkeley soon became Bishop of Cloyne, and 
 some years afterwards again found vent for his 
 amiable enthusiasm in advocating his specific of 
 tar water, which he made quite the fashion of 
 the day,* and for which he gained the attention 
 of philosophers and theologians by the subtle 
 speculations of his Siris ; a Chain of Philosophi- 
 cal Reflections and Inquiries concerning the 
 virtues of Tar Water ; and divers other subjects 
 connected together and arising one from another.^ 
 
 In his death Berkeley realized the Euthanasia 
 which he had desired. On a Sunday evening, 
 Jan. 14, 1753, as he was with his family in his 
 residence at Oxford, lying on a couch listening to 
 his wife reading a sermon by Sherlock, the final 
 messenger came to him in silence, and it was not 
 perceived that he was dead till hu daughter 
 offered him a cup of tea. He was buried at 
 Christ Church, and a weil written inscription in 
 Latin was put upon his monument: but the 
 friendly pen of Pope wrote his lasting epitaph : 
 
 * " It is impossible," writes Mr. Buncombe to Archbishop 
 Herring iu 1744. " to write a letter now without tincturing tho 
 ink with tar water. This is the common topic of discuurso 
 both among the rich and poor, high and low; and the Bi-hop 
 of Cloyne has made it as fashionable as going to Yauxhall or 
 Kanelagll." 
 
 t " Had the conversation(Coleridge's) been thrown upon paper 
 it might have been easy to trace the continuity of the links; 
 just as in Bishop Berkeley's Siris. [Seiris ought to have been 
 the name, i.& Xctpts, a chain] from a pedestal so low and ab- 
 ject,— so culinary as tar water, the method of preparing it and 
 its medicinal effects — the dissertation ascends, like Jacob's 
 ladder, by just gradations, into the Heaven of Heavens aLd Hid 
 Thrones of the Trinity."— De Quincy. 
 
GEORGE BERKELEY. 
 
 109 
 
 To Berkeley every "virtue under heaven.* 
 
 Berkeley's prophetic verses on America, so 
 often quoted,! will secure his popular reputation 
 with our history.! 
 
 As an introduction to them wo may present, 
 with other illustrations of the main idea, a passage 
 from George Herbert's poem of " The Church 
 Militant," published in 1633, in which the pro- 
 gress of religion westward had been a century 
 earlier commemorated. 
 
 Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, 
 
 Ready to pass to the American strand. 
 
 When height of malice, and prodigious lusts, 
 
 Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts, 
 
 The marks of future bane, shall fill our cup 
 
 Unto the brim, and make our measure up ; 
 
 When Seine shall swallow Tiber, and the Thames 
 
 By letting in them both, pollutes her streams ! 
 
 When Italy of us shall have her will, 
 
 And all her calendar of sins fulfil ; 
 
 Whereby one miy foretell what sins next year 
 
 Shall both in France and England domineer: 
 
 Then shall religion to America flee ; 
 
 They have their times of Gospel, e'en as we. 
 
 My God, thou dost prepare for them a way, 
 
 By carrying first their gold from them away: 
 
 For gold and grace did never yet agree : 
 
 Religion always sides with poverty. 
 
 We think we rob them, but we think amiss: 
 
 We are more poor, and they more rich by this. 
 
 Thou wilt revenge their quarrel, making grace 
 
 To pay our debts, and leave our ancient place 
 
 To go to them, while that, which now their nation 
 
 But lends to us, shall be our desolation. 
 
 Yet as the Church shall thither westward fly, 
 
 So sin shall trace and dog her instantly ; 
 
 They have their period also and set times, 
 
 Both for their virtuous actions and their crimes. 
 
 Inlfi81Sir Thomas Browne published " certain 
 Miscellany Tracts," one of which, entitled The 
 Prophecy, contained several reflections of this kind 
 
 * Epilogue to the Satires. 
 
 t And sometimes misquoted, particularly in making one of 
 the lines misread — 
 
 Westward the star of empire takes its way. 
 X These lines, though now familiar to everv schoolboy, were 
 not many years ago brought out by Mr. Verplanck in his anni- 
 versary discourse before the New York Historical Society as a 
 novelty, and Knapp, in his Lectures on American Literature, 
 quotes •' this little poem as extremely scarce' 1 from that source. 
 — Lectures, 04. 
 
 There is a curious reminiscence, or rather unsatisfactory 
 tradition, of these lines of Berkeley, in a letter of John Adams 
 to Benjamin Rush, dated 180T,in which he introduces "brother 
 Crancli, a gentleman of four score," and interrogates him as to 
 a couplet, the second line of which ran- 
 
 And empire rises where the sun descends: 
 His friend, after a moment's pause, gave him — 
 
 The eastern nations sink, their glory ends, 
 And empire rises where the sun descends. 
 " I asked him," continues Adams, " if Dean Berkeley was the 
 author of them. He answered, no. The tradition was, as he 
 had heard it for sixty years, that these lines were inscribed, or 
 rather drilled, into a rock on the shore of Monument Bay, in 
 our old colony of Plymouth, and were supposed to have been 
 written and engraved there by some of the first emigrants 
 from Leydcn, who landed at Plymouth, However this may 
 be, I may add my testimony to Mr. Cl'anch's, that I have 
 heard these verses for more than sixty years. I conjecture 
 that Berkeley became connected with them, in my head, by 
 some report that the Bishop had copied them into some 
 publication. There is nothing in my little reading, more an- 
 cient in my memory than the observation that arts, sciences, 
 and empire had travelled westward; and in conversation it 
 was always added, since I was a child, that their next leap 
 would be over the Atlantic into America."— John Adams's 
 Works, ix. 6'uo. 
 
 on the rise and progress of America, in which, Dr. 
 Johnson says, " Browne plainly discovers his ex- 
 pectation to be the same with that entertained 
 lately with more confidence by Dr. Berkeley, 
 that ' America will be the seat of the fifth em- 
 
 pire. 
 
 It is in verse, with a prose commentary. 
 
 The lines relating to America are, 
 
 When New England shall trouble New Spain, 
 When America shall cease to send out its treasure, 
 But employ it at home in American pleasure; 
 When the new world shall the old invade, 
 Nor count them their lords but their fellows in 
 trade.f 
 
 The benevolent prophecies of Berkeley, in refer- 
 ence to America, also recall to us the later anti- 
 cipations, which, if not the measure of our per- 
 formance, were of his own benevolence, expressed 
 in 1773 by the good Bishop of St. Asaph, the 
 worthy friend of Franklin, before the Society for 
 the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 
 which always had American welfare at heart. 
 "It is difficult," said he, "for men to look into 
 the destiny of future ages, the designs of Provi- 
 dence are too vast and complicated, and our own 
 powers are too narrow to admit of much satisfac- 
 tion to our curiosity. But when we see many 
 great and powerful causes constantly at work, wo 
 cannot doubt of their producing proportionable 
 effects. The colonies in North America have not 
 only taken root and acquired strength, but seem 
 hastening, with an accelerated progress, to such a 
 powerful state as may introduce a new and im- 
 portant change in human affairs." He goes on to 
 describe their opportunities and the prospects of 
 new states. "The vast continent itself, over 
 which they are gradually spreading, may be con- 
 sidered as a treasure, yet untouched, of natural 
 productions that shall hereafter afford ample 
 matter for commerce and contemplation." And 
 he anticipates that " time and discipline may dis- 
 cover some means to correct the extreme inequa- 
 lities of condition between the rich and the 
 poor."J 
 
 VERSES ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS AND LEARNING 
 IN AMERICA. 
 
 The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime, 
 
 Barren of every glorious theme, 
 In distant lands now waits a better time, 
 
 Producing subjects worthy fame: 
 
 Iu happy climes, where from the genial sun 
 And virgin earth such scenes ensue, 
 
 The force of art by nature seems outdone, 
 And fancied beauties by the true: 
 
 In happy climes the seat of innocence, 
 Where nature guides and virtue rules, 
 
 Where men shall not impose for truth and sense, 
 The pedantry of courts and schools: 
 
 There shall be sung another golden age, 
 
 The rise of empire and of arts, 
 The good and great inspiring epic rage, 
 
 The wisest heads and noblest hearts. 
 
 * Life of Sir Thomas Browne. 
 
 t Sir Thomas Browne's Works, iv. 232. Grahame, in his His- 
 tory of the United States, notices this idea of western progress 
 In the country, quoting Bumaby's Travels, and leferring to the 
 language of the Italian irnprovisatoi e to Benjamin West, as the 
 story is related in Gait's Life.— History, iv. 130, MS. 
 
 X Bishop Shipley's Works, ii. 3^S. 
 
170 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ; 
 
 Such as she bred when fresh and young, 
 When heavenly flame did animate her clay, 
 
 By future poets shall be sung. 
 
 Westward the course of empire takes its way; 
 
 The four first acts already past, 
 A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; 
 
 Time's noblest offspring is the last. 
 
 CHAELES THOMSON, 
 
 The "perpetual secretary" of the old Revolutionary 
 Congress from 1775, was a man of literary tastes, 
 who, when he had long served his country and 
 become to his contemporaries one of the best 
 known and most respected personages of our early 
 political annals, occupied the remainder of his 
 life in composition, publishing a' Translation of 
 the Old and New Testaments. He was born in 
 Ireland in 1729, and came to America at the age 
 of eleven. His father died on the pas>age, and he 
 was thrown on his own resources in Maryland. 
 One of his brothers assisted him in entering the 
 school of Dr. Alison, at Thunder Hill in that 
 state. Books were scarce, and a single lexicon 
 did duty for the whole school. A story is told 
 of the boy's eagerness in pursuit of an intellectual 
 pleasure. One of his schoolfellows came down 
 from Philadelphia, bringing with him an odd vo- 
 lume of the Spectator. Thomson read it with 
 great delight, and learning that an entire set 
 could be purchased at a certain place for the 
 small stock of money which he had at command, 
 without asking permission he set off on foot for 
 Philadelphia to buy it. Having obtained it he 
 returned, when the motive of his journey was 
 taken a; sufficient excuse for the truant. An 
 anecdote like this is worth a volume in illustrat- 
 ing the character of the man and the state of 
 literature in America at the time. At Dr. Ali- 
 son's seminary he learnt Greek, Latin, and Mathe- 
 matics enough to undertake a Friends' Academy 
 in Philadelphia, which he conducted with credit. 
 He was an ardent republican, and immediately 
 upon the assembling of the old Continental Con- 
 gress of 1774, was chosen its secretary. John 
 Adams at the time, in his Diary, describes him as 
 "the Sam. Adams of Philadelphia, the life of the 
 cause of liberty."* He retained his post of Secre- 
 tary with every Congress till the close of the 
 war, and was chosen as the person to inform 
 Washington at Mount Vernon of his nomination 
 to the Presidency. His services to Congress 
 were very efficient, and the repute of his integrity 
 gained him the name with the Indians of " The 
 Man of Truth. "t 
 
 The Rev. Ashbel Green, President of the Col- 
 lege of New Jersey, in his Autobiography, says 
 of the sacred regard for truth which marked the 
 statements of the old Congress, that it became a 
 proverb, "It's as true as if Charles Thomson's 
 name was to it;" and adds this personal reminis- 
 cence, — " I had the happiness to be personally 
 acquainted with Charles Thomson. He was tall 
 of stature, well proportioned, and of primitive 
 simplicity of manners. He was one of the best 
 classical scholars that our country has ever pro- 
 
 * Works, ii. 858. 
 
 t Walsh s Article, Am. Biography. Am. Qnar. Rev. i. 29-32. 
 
 duced. He made three or four transcriptions of 
 his trairslation of the whole Bible, from the Sep- 
 tuagint of the Old Testament, and from the 
 original of the New; still endeavoring in each to 
 make improvements on his former labors. After 
 our revolutionary war wa? terminated, and before 
 the adoption of the present Constitution of the 
 United States, our country was in a very deplo- 
 rable state, and many of our surviving patriotic 
 fathers, and Mr. Thomson among the rest, could 
 not easily rid themselves of gloomy apprehen- 
 sions. Mr. Thomson's resource was the study of 
 the Sacred Scriptures. His last work was a 
 Harmony of the Four Gospels, in the language 
 of his own version."* 
 
 In person Thomson was remarkable. The 
 Abbe Robin,who was in the country with Rocham- 
 beau, found him at Philadelphia "the soul of the 
 body politic, r t and was struck with his meagre 
 and furrowed countenance, his hollow and spark- 
 ling eyes, and white erect hair. This description, 
 in 1781, does not argue a condition of perfect 
 health, yet Thomson lived till 1824, dying at the 
 venerable age of ninety-five. 
 
 EOEEET EOGEES. 
 
 Robert was the son of James R. Rogers, an early 
 settler of the town of Dumbarton, New Hamp- 
 shire, entered military service during the French 
 war, and raised a company of Rangers, who ac- 
 quired a high reputation for activity in the region 
 surrounding Lake George, where his name is per- 
 petuated by the precipice known as Rogers's slide, 
 on the edge of the lake, so called from an act of 
 daring of their leader in escaping down its steep 
 side, and so over the ice, from a party of Indians 
 in hot pursuit. In 1760 Rogers received orders 
 from Sir Jeffrey Amherst to take possession of 
 Detroit and other western posts ceded by the 
 French after the fall of Quebec. He ascended the 
 St. Lawrence and the lakes with two hundred of 
 his rangers, visited Fort Pitt, had an interview 
 with the Indian chief, Pontiae, at the site of the 
 present Cleveland on Lake Erie; received the 
 submission of Detroit, but was prevented from 
 proceeding further by the approach of winter. lie 
 afterwards visited England, where he suffered 
 from want until he borrowed the means to print 
 his Journal and present it to the King, when he 
 received the appointment of Governor of Michili- 
 mackinac in 1765.J He returned and entered 
 upon his command, but was afterwards, on an 
 accusation of a plot to deliver up his post to the 
 Spaniards, then the possessors of Louisiana, sent 
 to Montreal in irons. In 1769 he revisited. Eng- 
 land, was presented to the King, and imprisoned 
 for debt. He afterwards, according to his ac- 
 count of himself to Dr. Wheelock at Dartmouth, 
 "fought two battles in Algiers under the Dey." 
 
 In 1775 he made his appearance in the northern 
 states, where lie made loud professions of patriot- 
 ism, and talked of recent interviews with the 
 Congress at Philadelphia. He held a pass from 
 that body, but it had been obtained after he had 
 
 * Life of Ashbel Green, 4S. 
 
 t Nouveau Voyage dans l'Amerique Septcntrionale. en Tan- 
 nee 17S1 ct campagne de l'amire de M. le Comte de Eocham- 
 beau. Par M. l'Abbc Eobin. Paris, 17S2. pp. 91. 
 
 % Diary of John Adams, December 27, 17G5. "Works, U, 
 1C7. 
 
ROBERT ROGERS. 
 
 171 
 
 been their prisoner, and been released on bis 
 parole. In January, 1776, Washington recom- 
 mended that he should be watched, and in June 
 ordered his arrest, lie was taken at South Am- 
 boy, where he professed to be on his way to offer 
 his services to Congress. Washington sent him 
 to that body, by whom he was directed to return 
 to New Hampshire. He soon after openly joined 
 the side of the crown, accepted a colonelcy, and 
 raised a company called the Queen's Rangers. In 
 the fall of 1776 he narrowly escaped being taken pri- 
 soner by Lord Stirling at Mamaroneck. He not long 
 after went to England, and was succeeded in his 
 command by Colonel Siincoe. He was proscribed 
 and banished under the act of New Hampshire in 
 1778, and his subsequent history is unknown.* 
 
 Rogers published, in 1765, his Journals^ a 
 spirited account of bis early adventures as a ran- 
 ger, and in the same year A Concise Account of 
 North America.^ He attempted a bolder flight 
 in the following year in his tragedy of Ponteach. 
 The publication does not bear his name. It is a 
 curious production, the peculiarities of which can 
 be best displayed by analysis and extract. 
 
 The play of Ponteach opens with an interview be- 
 tween two Indian traders, one of whom di -clo?es to 
 bis less experienced associate, the means by which 
 the Indians are cheated in the commerce for furs. 
 Indians enter with packs of skins which they part 
 with for rum. They are defrauded by a juggle in 
 the weight, and paid in well watered spirits. We 
 have njxt Osborne and Honnyman, two English 
 hunters, in possession of the stage, who'expatiate 
 on the advantages of shooting down well laden 
 Indians, and taking possession of their packs 
 without even the ceremony of bargains. The 
 scene changes to an English fort, with Colonel 
 Cockum aud Captain Frisk, a pair of blusterers, 
 who propose immediate extermination of the red- 
 skins. Ponteach enters with complaints that his 
 men are cheated, but receives naught but abuse 
 in return. We have next a scene in which the 
 governors distribute the presents sent by the Eng- 
 lish King to the Indians, reserving half of the 
 stock for themselves and retaining a similar share 
 of the furs brought by the Indians in return. 
 What would, says Catehum, one of these Govern- 
 ors, the King of England do with Wampum? 
 
 Or beaver skins d'ye think ? He's not a hatter ! 
 
 Thus ends the first act. In the second, the In- 
 dian dramatis personaa are brought forward. 
 Ponteach summons Ins sons Philip and Chekitan, 
 and his counsellor Tenesco, to deliberate on war 
 with the English. He feels sure of the support 
 
 * Sabine's American Loyalists. Parkmaa's Ilistorv of Pon- 
 tiac, p. 114. ' 
 
 t Journals of Major Robert Rogers, containing an account of 
 the several excursions he made, under the generals who com- 
 manded on the continent el' America during tile late war. From 
 which may be collected the most material circumstances of 
 every campaign on that continent from the commencement to 
 the conclusion of the war. London, 17(15. 8vo. jip. 236. 
 
 X A concise account of North America, containing a descrip- 
 tion ot the several British colonies on that continent, including 
 the islands of Newfoundland, Cape Breton, &c. ; as to their 
 situation, extent, climate, soil, produce, rise, government, pre- 
 sent boundaries, and the number of inhabitants supposed to be 
 in each. Also,* of the interior or westerly parts of the country 
 upon the rivers St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, Christine, and 
 the great lakes. To which is subjoined an account of the seve- 
 ral nations and tribes of Indians residing in those parts, as to 
 their customs, manners, government, numbers, &c., containing 
 many useful and entertaining facts, never before treated of By 
 Major Robert Rogers. London, 1TU5. Svo. pp. 204. 
 
 of the chiefs, with the exception of the " Mohawk 
 Emperor." Philip undertakes to secure his con- 
 currence, and Ponteach departs to consult his 
 Indian doctor and a French priest, as to the in- 
 terpretation of a dream which he relates. After 
 his exit Philip narrates his plan. It is to secure 
 possession of Monelia and Torax, the children of 
 Ilendrick the Mohawk Emperor, and detain them 
 in case of his opposition; a plan by which ho 
 proposes to serve his brother, who is in love with 
 Monelia, as well as his father. Chekitan joyfully 
 acquiesces and departs, leaving Philip to deliver a 
 soliloquy from which it appears that he hates his 
 brother. After a rhapsody on love he says : — 
 
 Onee have I felt its poison in my heart, 
 
 When this same Chekitan a captive led 
 
 The fair Donauta from the Illinois; 
 
 I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming maid, 
 
 And as a favor ask'd her from his hands, 
 
 But lie refus'd and sold her for a slave. 
 
 My love is dead, but my resentment lives, 
 
 And now's my time to let the flame break forth, 
 
 For while I pay this ancient debt of vengeance, 
 
 I'll serve my country, and advance myself. 
 
 He loves Monelia — Ilendrick must be won — 
 
 Monelia and her brother both must bleed — 
 
 This is my vengeance on her lover's head — 
 
 Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen — - 
 
 And to gain credit both with friends and foes, 
 
 I'll wound myself, aud say that I reeeiv'd it 
 
 By striving to assist them in the combat. 
 
 This will rouse Hendrick's wrath, and arm his 
 
 troops 
 To blood and vengeance on the common foe. 
 And further still my profit may extend ; 
 My brother's rage will lead him into danger, 
 And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own. 
 Thus am I flx'd ; my scheme of goodness laid, 
 And I'll effect it, tho' thro' blood I wade, 
 To desperate wounds apply a desperate cure, 
 And to tall structures lay foundations sure ; 
 To fame and empire hence my course I bend, 
 And every step I take shall thither tend. 
 
 This closes the second act. In the third we 
 have a scene between Ponteach and his ghostly 
 counsellors. Both interpret the dream as an 
 admonition to go to war, and the monarch and 
 Indian depart, leaving the priest solus to take the 
 audience into his confidence, which he does most 
 unlilusliingly, in a curious passage, valuable as 
 showing the perverted views entertained of the 
 Roman Catholic missionaries by the English. 
 
 Next follows an Indian pow-wow, with long 
 speeches, winding up with 
 
 THE WAR SONG. 
 
 To the Tune of " Over the Bills and Far Away," 
 Sung by Tenesco, the Head Warrior. They all 
 join in the Chorus, and dance while (hat is singing, 
 in a circle round hint. ; and during the Chorus the 
 Music plays. 
 
 Where-e'er the sun displays his light, 
 Or moon is seen to shine by night, 
 Where-e'er the noisy rivers flow, 
 Or trees and grass and herbage grow. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Be't known that we this war begia 
 With proud insulting Englishmen; 
 The hatchet we have lifted high 
 
 [holding up their hatchets] 
 And them we'll conquer or we'll die. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
172 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The edge is keen, the blade is bright, 
 Nothing saves them but their flight; 
 And then like heroes we'll pursue, 
 Over the hills aud valleys through. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 They'll like frighted women quake, 
 When they behold a hissing snake; 
 Or like timorous deer away, 
 And leave both goods and arms a prey. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Pain'd with hunger, cold, or heat, 
 
 In haste they'll from our land retreat ; 
 
 While we'll employ our scalping knives — 
 
 [Drawing and flourishing tlicir scalping 
 knives'] 
 Take off their sculls and spare their lives. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Or in their country they'll complain, 
 Nor ever dare return again ; 
 Or if they should they'll rue the day, 
 Ar.d curse the guide that shew'd the way. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 If fortune smiles, we'll not be long 
 Ere we return with dance and song, 
 But ah ! if we should chance to die, 
 Dear wives and children do not cry. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Our friends will ease your grief and woe, 
 By double vengeance on the foe ; 
 Will kill, and scalp, and shed their blood, 
 Where-e'er they find them thro' the wood. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 No pointing foe shall ever say 
 'Twas there the vanquish'd Indian lay. 
 Or boasting to his friends, relate 
 The tale of our unhappy fate. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let us with courage then away 
 To hunt and seize the frighted prey; 
 Nor think of children, friend, or wife, 
 While there's an Englishman alive. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 In heat and cold, thro' wet and dry, 
 
 Will we pursue, and they shall fly 
 
 To seas which they a refuge think 
 
 And there in wretched crowds they'll sink. 
 
 Chorus. Exeunt ontnes singi?ig. 
 
 Philip removes Chekitan from Monelia, by 
 placing him at the head of troops. The piece 
 proceeds in accordance with his programme, but 
 justice is first wreaked on Honnyman, the trader, 
 ■who is despatched on the stage. 
 
 In Act V., Scene 1, Monelia and Torax are also 
 killed, and Philip discovered wounded. His story 
 is believed, until Torax revives sufficiently to 
 declare the truth, after he has left the scene. On 
 his return he is confronted by the injured Cheki- 
 tan. They fight. Philip is slain, and Chekitan 
 kills himself. Tenesco bears the news of this 
 extirpation of his offspring to Ponteach, and is 
 soon followed by tidings of the complete rout of 
 the Indian forces. The monarch closes the piece 
 with the following lines, which possess force and 
 beauty : — 
 
 Ye fertile fields and glad'ning streams adieu, 
 
 Ye fountains that have quench'd my scorching 
 
 thirst, 
 Ye shades that hid the sunbeams from my head, 
 
 Ye groves and hills that yielded me the chace, 
 Ye flow'ry meads, and banks, and bending trees, 
 And thou, proud earth, made drunk with royal 
 
 blood, 
 I am no more your owner and your king. 
 But witness for me to your new base lords, 
 That my unconquer'd mind defies them still ; 
 And though I fly, 'tis on the wings of hope. 
 Yes, I will hence where there's no British foe, 
 And wait a respite from this storm of woe ; 
 Beget more sons, fresh troops collect and arm, 
 And other schemes of future greatness form ; 
 Britons may boast, the gods may have their will, 
 Ponteach I am, and shali be Ponteach still. 
 
 JOSEPH GALLOWAY, 
 
 A loyalist refugee of the Revolution, was in 
 the early part of his career an advocate to the 
 popular interest in Pennsylvania. He was born 
 in Maryland about 1730, came early to Philadel- 
 phia, took part with Franklin in opposition to 
 the proprietary interest, and was a member of the 
 first Continental Congress of 1774. His plan, in 
 that body, of a " a proposed union between Great 
 Britain and the colonies," was published in his 
 pamphlet, A Candid Examination of the Mutual 
 Claims of Great Britain and the Colonies. Two 
 years later he joined the British troops in New 
 Jersey, and entered with them when they took pos- 
 session of Philadelphia. He was employed under 
 Sir William Howe, and when the city was freed 
 from the enemy went to New York, and shortly 
 left for England, where he was examined before 
 the House .of Commons on American affairs. 
 He published there a number of pamphlets : Let- 
 ters to a Nobleman on the Conduct of the War in 
 the Middle Colonies; A Letter to Lord Hoice on 
 his Naval Conduct ; A Reply to the Observations 
 of General Howe, with Thoughts on the Conse- 
 quences of American Independence; Reflections 
 on the American Rebellion* At the close of his 
 life he occupied himself with the study of the 
 Prophecies. Two volumes, the fruits of these 
 studies, were published in London in 1802 and '3, 
 entitled, Brief Commentaries on such Farts of the 
 Revelation and other Prophecies as immediately 
 refer to the Present Times ; in which the several 
 Allegorical Types and Expressions of these Pro- 
 phecies are translated into their literal meaning 
 and applied to their appropriate events : contain- 
 ing a Summary of the Revelation, the Prophetic 
 Histories of the Beast of the Bottomless Pit ; the 
 Beast of the Earth ; the Grand Confederacy or 
 Babylon the Great ; the Man of Sin ; the Little 
 Horn and Antichrist; and The Prop/hetic and 
 Anticipated History of the Church of Rome; 
 written and published six hundred years before 
 the Rise of that Church. In which the Prophetic 
 Figures and Allegories are literally explained ; 
 and her Tricks,, Frauds, Blasphemies, and Dread- 
 ful Persecutions of the Church of Christ are fore- 
 told and described. Prefaced by an Address, de- 
 dicatory, expostnlatory, and critical.t He resided 
 in England till his death in 1803. 
 
 John Adams describes him, in his Diarv, as 
 "sensible and learned, but a cold speaker."! 
 Franklin had confidence in his patriotism, and left 
 
 * Sparks' s Franklin, vii. 277; Sabine's American Loyalists, 
 IC8. 
 t Works, ii. 390. t Watts's Bib. Brit. 
 
HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUE. 
 
 173 
 
 in his charge in America a valuable collection of 
 his letter-books and papers, which were lost. 
 His defection, from his well known talents, was 
 severely commented upon by the friends of the 
 Revolution. Stiles, in his manuscript Diary, of 
 the date of October 1, 1775, says: — "Mr. Gallo- 
 way has also fallen from a great height into con- 
 tempt and infamy ; but he never was entirely 
 confided in as a thorough son of liberty." Trum- 
 bull, too, tells the story in his M'Fingal, how 
 " Galloway began by being a flaming patriot ; but 
 being disgusted at his own want of influence, and 
 the greater popularity of others, he turned Tory, 
 wrote against the measures of Congress, and ab- 
 sconded. Just before his escape, a trunk was put 
 on -board a vessel in the Delaware, to be delivered 
 to Joseph Galloway, Esquire. On opening it, he 
 found it contained only, as Shakespeare says — 
 
 A halter gratis, and leaye to hang himself; 
 
 while M'Fingal himself, in his royalist zeal, de- 
 claims against the popular party, in his left-hand- 
 ed maimer — 
 
 Did you not, in as vile and shallow way. 
 Fright our poor Philadelpliian, Galloway, 
 Your Congress, when the loyal ribald 
 Belied, berated, and beseribbled ? 
 What ropes and halters did you send, 
 Terrific emblems of his end, 
 Till, least he'd hang in more than effigy, 
 Fled in a fog the trembling refugee ?* 
 
 Francis Hopkinson addressed Galloway a wi- 
 thering letter in 1778, when he was " in the seat 
 of power in the city of Philadelphia," and the re- 
 negade Cunningham was made keeper of the pro- 
 vost prison, which was published at the time, 
 and is preserved in his works : — " The temporary 
 reward of iniquity," was his language, " you nov£ 
 hold will soon shrink from your grasp ; and the 
 favor of him on whom you now depend will cease, 
 when your capacity to render the necessary ser- 
 vices shall cease. This you know, and the reflec- 
 tion must even now throw a gloom of horror 
 over your enjoyments, which the glittering tinsel 
 of your new superintendency cannot illumine. 
 Look back, and all is guilt — look forward, and 
 all is dread. "When the history of the present 
 times shall be recorded, the names of Galloway 
 and Cunningham will not be omitted ; and pos- 
 terity will wonder at the extreme obduracy of 
 which the human heart is capable, and at the un- 
 measurablo distance between a traitor and a 
 Washington." 
 
 hectoe st..johx ceeveccetjb. 
 Tue volume entitled Letters from an .American 
 Farmer, describing certain provincial Situations, 
 Manners and Customs, and conveying some idea 
 of the state of the People of North America: 
 written to a Friend in England, by J. Hector St. 
 John, a farmer in Pennsylvania, is one of the 
 most pleasing and agreeable of the books respect- 
 ing the early impressions made by the simple hie 
 of America upon intelligent and sensitive Euro- 
 peans.! With the exception of the Memoirs of an 
 
 * Trumbull's McFingall, canto iii. 
 
 t We have given the title of this book from the copy print- 
 e 1 by Mathew Carey, in 1794. 
 
 American Lady, by Mrs. Grant of Laggan, and 
 some passages in the travels of Brissot de War- 
 ville, we know of no more appreciative pictures 
 of the idyllic life of America in the period just 
 preceding the Revolution. It is all sentiment 
 and susceptibility in the French school of St. 
 Pierre and Chateaubriand, looking at homely 
 American life in the Claude Lorraine glass of 
 fanciful enthusiasm. The author prides him- 
 self upon his good feeling ; and instead of hiding 
 it in his breast, as an Englishman would do, 
 brings it out into the sunlight to enjoy it, and 
 writes it down to see how it will look upon pa- 
 per. The book is written in the character of a 
 plain country farmer, who, having entertained 
 an accomplished scholar from the old world at 
 his farm, is invited by this European friend, on 
 his return home, to communicate to him his 
 observations and reflections on life in America. 
 The farmer, who is a man of acuteness and sensi- 
 bility, is encouraged to undertake the task by the 
 advice of the clergyman at Yale, who tells him, 
 that letter-writing, like preaching, will soon be- 
 come eas} r from practice; and by the good sense 
 and kindliness of his Quaker wife, who is ever 
 ready to cheer him, in her kind, homely way, in 
 whatever he undertakes. There is an introduc- 
 tion, a chapter on " the situation, feelings, and 
 pleasures of an American farmer;" a discussion 
 of the question, " What is an American ?" a long 
 account of Nantucket and its manners, and of 
 Martha's Vineyard ; a description of Charleston, 
 and a notice of the naturalist Bartram. 
 
 The author of these letters, the contents of 
 which we have thus indicated, was a French 
 gentleman, born in 1731, of a noble family, at 
 Caen in Normandy, who, at the age of sixteen, 
 was sent by his parents to England to complete 
 his education, and passed six years there, acquir- 
 ing, among other things, a passion for emigration 
 to the British colonies. In 1754 he embarked for 
 America, and settled upon a farm near New York. 
 He married the daughter of a merchant. In the 
 war, his lands were overrun by the British troops. 
 Affairs of importance, in 1780, requiring his pre- 
 sence in England, he obtained permission of the 
 British commander to cross the lines, and embark 
 with one of his sons from New York. A French 
 fleet on the coast detained the vessel in the har- 
 bor, when he was arrested as a spy in the place, 
 and kept in prison for three months. He was re- 
 leased on examination, and sailed for Dublin, 
 where he arrived in December. He travelled to 
 London, and finally reached the paternal roof, in 
 France, April 2, 1781, after an absence of twenty- 
 seven years. He became a member of the Agri- 
 cultural Society of Caen, and introduced the cul- 
 tivation of the potato into his district. His 
 Letters from an American Farmer were first 
 written in English : a language which had become 
 more familiar to him than his native tongue, and 
 published in 1782, in London.* He translated 
 
 * Ilis Letters from an American Fanner first made their 
 appearance in London, in 1762. Written thus originally in 
 English, they were translated by the author into French on 
 his return to his native countrv, where thev appeared, with 
 some additions, in 1787, with the' title. Lettreed'tm Cultivateur 
 
 Americain, adressees d Win. ,S' :?. Esq., depute Vanned 
 
 1770, jmqu'd 1786. Par Jl St. John lie Crevecmnr. Tra- 
 duites de V Anglais. There was au earlier French edition iu 
 1784. 
 
174 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 them into French, in which language two editions 
 appeared in Paris, in 1784 and 1787. His glow- 
 ing and extravagant pictures of American life 
 induced many families to emigrate to the borders 
 of the Ohio, where they suffered the extremities 
 of famine and fever. His friend, the author Lizay- 
 Marnesia, who trusted to the representations of 
 the Scioto company, was one of the disappointed. 
 
 In 1783 Crevecceur returned to New York as 
 French consul. He found his house burnt, his 
 wife dead, and his children in the hands of a 
 )C stranger, Mr. Flower, a merchant of Boston, who 
 had been led to take charge of them by the kind- 
 ness Crevecceur had shown to prisoners abroad. 
 He was honored by Washington, and retained his 
 office till 1703, when he returned to his native 
 country, residing first at a coimtry-seat near 
 Eouen, and afterwards at Sarcelles. He em- 
 ployed his leisure in writing a book of his travels 
 and observations in America, which lie published 
 in three volumes, in Paris, in 1801 : Voyage dans 
 la Saute Pensylvanie et dans VEtat de New York, 
 par un Membre Adoptif de la Nation Oneida. 
 Traduit ct publii; par Vauteur des Lettres d'un 
 Cultirateur Americain. The translation is an 
 affectation, purporting to be from a manuscript 
 cast ashore from a wreck on the Elbe. The work 
 is dedicated to "Washington in highly complimen- 
 tary terms, recapitulating the public events of his 
 life, of which the translator had been an observer. 
 It contains much interesting matter relating to 
 the Indians, the internal improvements of the 
 country, agriculture, and a curious conversation 
 on the first peopling and the antiquities of the 
 country with Franklin, whom St. John accompa- 
 nied in 1787 to Lancaster, when the sage laid the 
 foundation-stone of his German college at that 
 place. 
 
 Crevecceur died at Sarcelles, November, 1813, 
 leaving behind him a high reputation for worth 
 and agreeable personal qualities. 
 
 An interesting notice of this writer is published 
 in one of the notes to Darlington's biographical 
 sketch of John Bartram, from the recollections of 
 Samuel Breck, of Philadelphia, who saw St. John 
 in Paris in 1787. He describes him as in the 
 midst of Parisian society, where the man and his 
 book were much admired. He made the return 
 voyage home with him, and gives this record of 
 his impressions of his character, which is fully in 
 unison with the manner of his book : — " St. John 
 was by nature, by education, and by his writings 
 a philanthropist; a man of serene temper, and 
 pure benevolence. The milk of human kindness 
 i circulated in every vein. Of manners unas- 
 suming; prompt to serve, slow to censure ; intelli- 
 gent, beloved, and highly worthy of the esteem 
 and respect he everywhere received. His society 
 on shipboard was a treasure."* 
 
 Hazlitt was a great admirer of the freshness 
 and enthusiasm of the American Farmer. In one 
 of the charming letters addressed to him, Charles 
 Lamb interpolates an exclamation, doubtless from 
 Bridget Elia, " O tell Hazlitt not to forget to send 
 me the American Farmer. I dare say it is not 
 so good as he fancies; but a book's a book."t 
 
 * Memorials of Bartram and Marshall, by William Darling- 
 ton, p. 44. 
 t Charles Lamb to Hazlitt, November 18, 1S05. 
 
 Hazlitt kept the Farmer in memory, for in 1829, 
 in an article on American Literature in the Edin- 
 burgh Review, he bestows all his warmth upon 
 him. " The American Farmer's Letters," says he, 
 " give us a tolerable idea how American scenery 
 and manners may be treated with a lively poetic 
 interest. The pictures are sometimes highly co- 
 lored, but they are vivid and strikingly charac- 
 teristic. He gives not only the objects hut the 
 feelings of a new country. He describes himself 
 as placing his little boy in a chair, screwed to the 
 plough which he guides (to inhale the scent of the 
 fresh furrows), while his wife sits knitting under 
 a tree at one end of the field. He recounts a bat- 
 tle between two snakes with a Homeric gravity 
 and exuberance of style. He paints the dazzling, 
 almost invisible flutter of the humming-bird's 
 wing : Mr. Moore's airiest verse is not more light 
 and evanescent. His account of the manners of 
 the Nantucket people, their frank simplicity, and 
 festive rejoicings after the perils and hardships of 
 the whale-fishing, is a true and heartfelt picture. 
 
 The most interesting part of the author's 
 
 work is that where he describes the first indica- 
 tions of the breaking-out of the American war — 
 the distant murmur of the tempest — the threat- 
 ened inroad of the Indians, like an inundation, 
 on the peaceful back-settlements : his complaints 
 and his auguries are fearful."* Hazlitt did not 
 know the author to be a Frenchman, or he would 
 have accounted, in his brilliant wa}', for the con- 
 stitutional vivacity of the book, and its peculiar 
 treatment of an American subject. 
 
 AMERICAN FARMER'S PLEASURES. 
 
 The instant I enter on my own land, the bright . 
 idea of property, of exclusive right, of independence, 
 exalts my mind. Precious soil, I say to myself, by 
 what singular custom of law is it, that thou wast 
 made to constitute the riches of the freeholder? 
 What should we American farmers be, without the 
 distinct possession of that soil ? It feeds, it clothes 
 us; from it we draw even a great exuberancy, our 
 best meat, our richest drink, the very honey of our 
 bees comes from this privileged spot. No wonder 
 we should thus cherish its possession, no wonder that 
 so many Europeans who have never been able to 
 say, that such portion of land was theirs, cross the 
 Atlantic to realize that happiness. This formerly 
 rude soil has been converted by my father into a 
 pleasant farm, and in return it has established all our 
 rights ; on it is founded our rank, our freedom, our 
 power as citizens, our importance as inhabitants of 
 such a district. These images, I must confess, I 
 always behold with pleasure, and extend them as 
 far as my imagination can reach : for this is what 
 may be called the true and the only philosophy of 
 an American farmer. Pray eft> not laugh in thus 
 seeing an artless countryman tracing himself through 
 the simple modifications of his life; remember 
 that you have required it; therefore with can- 
 dour, though with diffidence, I endeavour to follow 
 the thread of my feelings; but I cannot tell you all. 
 Often when I plough my low ground, I place my 
 little boy on a chair, which screws to the beam of 
 the plough — it3 motion, and that of the horses 
 please him ; he is perfectly happy, and begins to 
 chat. As I lean over the handle, various are the 
 thoughts which crowd into my mind. I am now 
 doing for him, I say, what my father formerly did 
 
 * Edinburgh Eeview, October, 1S29, p. ISO, 
 
HECTOR ST. JOHN" CREVECffiUR. 
 
 175 
 
 for me ; may God enable him to live, that lie may 
 perform the same operations, for the same purposes, 
 when I am worn out and old! I relieve his mother 
 of some trouble, while I have him with me; the 
 odoriferous furrow exhilarates his spirits, and seems 
 to do the child a great deal of good, for he looks 
 more blooming since I have adopted that practice ; 
 can more pleasure, more dignity be added to that 
 primary occupation? The father thus ploughing 
 with his child, and to feed his family, is inferior 
 only to the emperor of China, ploughing as au ex- 
 ample to his kingdom. 
 
 SONG AND rNSTINCT. 
 
 The pleasure I receive from the warblings of the 
 birds in the spring, is superior to my poor descrip- 
 tion, as the continual succession of their tuneful 
 notes, is for ever new to me. I generally rise from 
 bed about that indistinct interval, which, properly 
 speaking, is neither night nor day ; for this is the 
 moment of the most universal vocal choir. Who can 
 listen unmoved, to the sweet love tales of our robins, 
 told from tree to tree? or to the shrill eat birds? 
 The sublime accents of the thrush from on high, 
 always retard my steps, that I may listen to the de- 
 licious music. The variegated appearances of the 
 dew drops, as they hang to the different objects, 
 must present, even to a clownish imagination, the 
 most voluptuous ideas. The astouishing art which 
 all birds display in the construction of their nests, ill 
 provided as we may suppose them with proper tools, 
 their neatness, their convenience, always make me 
 ashamed of the slovenliness of our houses ; their love 
 to their dame, their incessant careful attention, and 
 the peculiar songs they address to her, while slie 
 tediously incubates their eggs, remind me of my 
 duty, could I ever forget it. Their affection to their 
 helpless little ones, is a lively precept; and in short, 
 the whole economy of what we proudly call the 
 brute creation, is admirable in every circumstance; 
 and vain man, though adorned with the additional 
 gift of reason, might learn from the perfection of in- 
 stinct, how to regulate the follies, and how to temper 
 the errors which this second gift often makes him 
 commit. This is a subject, on which I have often 
 bestowed the most serious thoughts; I have often 
 blushed within myself, and been greatly astonished, 
 when I have compared the unerring path they all 
 follow, all just, all proper, all wise, up to the neces- 
 sary degree of perfection, with the coarse, the im- 
 perfect systems of men, not merely as governors and 
 kings, but as masters, as husbands, as fathers, as citi- 
 zens. But this is a sanctuary in which an ignorant 
 farmer must not presume to enter. 
 
 THE niTM.MING BIRD. 
 
 One anecdote I must. relate, the circumstances of 
 which are as true as they are singular. One of my 
 constant walks, when I am at leisure, is in my low- 
 lands, where I have the pleasure of seeing my cattle, 
 horses, and colts. Exuberant grass replenishes all 
 my fieids, the best representative of our wealth; in 
 the middle of that track, I have cut a ditch eight 
 feet wide, the banks of which nature adorns every 
 spring with the wild salendine, and other flowering 
 weeds, which, on these luxuriant grounds, shoot up 
 to a great height. Over this ditch I have erected a 
 bridge, capable of bearing a loaded waggon; on 
 each side 1 carefully sow every year some grains of 
 hemp, which rise to the height of fifteen feet, so 
 stiong and so full of limbs, as to resemble young 
 trees: I once ascended one of them four feet above 
 the ground. These produce natural arbours, ren- 
 dered often still more compact by the assistance of 
 
 an annual creeping plant, which we call a vine, that 
 never fails to entwine itself among their branches, 
 and always produces a very desirable shade. From 
 this simple grove I have amused myself an hundred 
 times in observing the great number of humming 
 birds with which our country abounds: the wild 
 blossoms every where attract the attention of these 
 birds, which, like bees, subsist by suction. From 
 this retreat I distinctly watch them in all their va- 
 rious attitudes; but their flight is so rapid that you 
 cannot distinguish the motion of their wings. On 
 i this little bird, nature lias profusely lavished her 
 most splendid colours; the most perfect azure, the 
 most beautiful gold, the most dazzling rod, are for 
 ever in contrast, and help to embellish the plumes 
 of his majestic head. The richest pallet of the most 
 luxuriant painter, could never invent any thing to 
 be compared to the variegated tints with which this 
 insect bird is arrayed. Its bill is as long and as 
 sharp as a coarse sewing needle; like the bee, nature 
 has taught it to find out, in the calix of flowers and 
 blossoms, those mellifluous particles that serve it for 
 sufficient food ; and yet it seems to leave them un- 
 touched, undeprived of anything that our eyes can 
 possibly distinguish. When it feeds, it appears as 
 if immoveable, though continually on the wing ; and 
 sometimes, from what motives I know not, it will 
 tear and lacerate flowers into a hundred pieces: 
 for, strange to tell, they are the most irascible of the 
 feathered tribe. Where do passions find room in so 
 diminutive a body ? They often fight with the fury 
 of lions, until one of the combatants falls a sacrifice 
 and dies. When fatigued, it has often perched 
 within a few feet of me, and on such favourable op- 
 portunities I have surveyed it with the most minute 
 attention. Its little eyes appear like diamonds, re- 
 flecting light on every side: most elegantly finished 
 in all parts, it is a miniature work of our great pa- 
 rent; who seems to have formed it the smallest, 
 and at the same time the most beautiful of the 
 winged species. 
 
 A .TOURNEY WITH FRANKLIN.* 
 
 In the year 1787 I accompanied the venerable 
 Franklin, at that time Governor of Pennsylvania, on 
 a journey to Lancaster, where he had been invited 
 to lay the corner-stone of a college, which he had 
 founded there for the Germans. In the evening of 
 the day of the ceremony, we were talking of the dif 
 ferent nations which inhabit the continent, of their 
 aversion to agriculture, etc., when one of the princi- 
 pal inhabitants of the city said to him : 
 
 " Governor, where do you think these nations 
 came from ? Do you consider them aborigines ? 
 Have you heard of the ancient fortifications and 
 tombs which have been recently discovered in the 
 west ? " 
 
 "Those who inhabit the two Floridas," he replied, 
 " and lower Louisiana, say, that they came from the 
 mountains of Mexico. I "should be inclined to be- 
 lieve it. If we may judge of the Esquimaux of the 
 coasts of Labrador (the most savage men known) by 
 the fairness of their complexion, the color of their 
 eyes, and their enormous beards, they are originally 
 from the north of Europe, whence they came at a 
 very remote period. As to the other nations of this 
 continent, it seems difficult to imagine from what 
 stock they can be descended. To assign them an 
 Asiatic and Tartar origin, to assert that they crossed 
 Behring Straits, and spread themselves over this 
 continent, shocks all our notions of probability. 
 How, indeed, can we conceive that men almost 
 
 * Translated from St. John's Voyage dans la Haute Pennsyl- 
 vania, ch. ii. 
 
176 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE, 
 
 naked, armed with bows and arrows, could have 
 undertaken a journey of a thousand leagues through 
 thick forests or impenetrable marshes, accompanied 
 by their wives and children, with no means of sub- 
 sistence, save what they derived from hunting? 
 "What could have been the motives of such an emi- 
 gration ? If it were the severe cold of their own 
 country, why should they have advanced to Hud- 
 son's Bay and Lower Canada? Why have they not 
 stopped on their way at the beautiful plains on the 
 banks of the Missouri, the Minnesota, the Mississippi, 
 or the Illinois? But it will be said, they did settle 
 there, and those with whom we are acquainted are 
 but the surplus population of these ancient emigra- 
 tions. If it were so, we should discover some analogy 
 between their languages: and it is ascertained be- 
 yond a doubt, that the languages of the Nadouassees 
 and Padoukas no more resemble the Chippewa, the 
 Mohawk, or the Abenaki, than they do the jargon 
 of Kamschatka. 
 
 " On the other hand," he continued, " how can 
 we suppose them to be the aborigines of a region 
 like this, which produces scarcely any fruits or 
 plants on which the primitive man could have sub- 
 sisted until he had learned to make a bow and ar- 
 row, harpoon a fish, and kindle a fire ? How could 
 these first families have resisted the inclemency of 
 the seasons, the stings of insects, the attacks of 
 carnivorous animals? The warm climates, there- 
 fore, and those that abound in natural fruits, must 
 have been the cradle of the human race ; it was 
 from the bosom of these favored regions that the 
 exuberant portion of the early communities gradu- 
 ally spread over the rest of the world. Whence 
 came the nations which inhabit this continent, those 
 we meet with in New Zealand, New Holland, and 
 the islands of the Pacific ? W T hy have the people of 
 the old world been civilized for thousands of ages, 
 while those of the new still remain plunged in igno- 
 rance and barbarism? Has this hemisphere more 
 recently emerged from the bosom of the waters? 
 These questions, and a thousand others we might 
 ask, will ever be to us, frail beings, like a vast 
 desert where the wandering eye sees not the small- 
 est bush on which it may repose. 
 
 "This planet is very old," he continued. " Like the 
 works of Homer and Hesiod, who can say through. 
 how many editions it has passed in the immensity 
 of ages? The rent continents, the straits, the gulfs, 
 the islands, the shallows of the ocean, are but vast 
 fragments on which, as on the planks of some 
 wrecked vessel, the men of former generations who 
 escaped these commotions, have produced new po- 
 pulations. Time, so precious to us, the creatures of 
 a moment, is nothing to nature. Who can tell us 
 when the earth will again experience these fatal 
 catastrophes, to which, it appears to me, to be as 
 much exposed in its annual revolutions, as are the 
 vessels which cross the seas to be dashed in pieces 
 on a sunken rock? The near approach or contact 
 of one of those globes whose elliptical and mys- 
 terious courses are perhaps the agents of our desti- 
 nies, some variation in its annual or diurnal rotation, 
 in the inclination of its axis or the equilibrium of the 
 seas, might change its climate, and render it long 
 uninhabitable. 
 
 "As to your third question," continued the gover- 
 nor, " I will give you some reflections which occurred 
 to me on reading the papers lately presented to our 
 philosophical society by Generals Varnum and Par- 
 sons, and Captains John Hart and Serjeant, in rela- 
 tion to the entrenched camps and other indications 
 of an ancient population, of whom tradition has 
 transmitted no account to our indigenous popula- 
 tion. In travelling through the parts of this state 
 
 beyond the Alleghanies, we often find on the high 
 ground near the rivers remains of parapets and 
 ditches covered with lofty trees. Almost the whole 
 of the peninsula of Muskinghum is occupied by a 
 vast fortified camp. It is composed of three square 
 inclosures ; the central one, which is the largest, 
 has a communication with the former bed of the 
 river, whose waters appear to have retreated nearly 
 three hundred feet. These inclosures are formed by 
 ditches and parapets of earth, in which no cut stones 
 or brick have been found. ■ The centre is occupied 
 by conical elevations of different diameters and 
 heights. Each of these inclosures appears to have 
 had a cemetery. As a proof of the high antiquity 
 of these works, we are assured, as an undisputed 
 fact, that the bones are converted into calcareous 
 matter, and that the vegetable soil with which these 
 fortifications are covered, and which has been formed 
 merely by the falling off of the leaves and of the 
 fragments of trees, is almost as thick as in the places 
 around about them. Two other camps have been 
 likewise discovered in the neighbourhood of Lexing- 
 ton. The area of the first is six acres, that of the 
 second, three. The fragments of earthenware which 
 have been found in digging are of a composition un- 
 known to our Indians. 
 
 " On Paint Creek, a branch of the Scioto, there 
 has been found a series of these fortified inclosures, 
 extending as far as the Ohio, and even south of that 
 river. Similar works have been discovered in the 
 two Miamis, at a distance of more than twenty 
 miles, and likewise on Big Grave Creek. These 
 last are only a series of elevated redoubts on the 
 banks of these rivers at unequal distances apart. 
 Those which have been found on Big Black Creek, 
 and at Byo Pierre, in the neighborhood of the Mis- 
 sissippi, appear to have been embankments intended 
 to protect the inhabitants from the inundations of 
 the river. 
 
 "At a distance of five hundred leagues from the 
 sea, on the eastern shore of Lake Peppin (which is 
 only an extension of the Mississippi), Carver found 
 considerable remains of entrenchments made, like 
 the former, of earth, and covered with high woods. 
 Tne barrows lately discovered in Kentucky and 
 elsewhere, are cones of different diameters and 
 heights; they are covered with a thick layer of 
 earth, and resemble, although smaller, those which 
 are still seen in Asia and some parts of Europe. 
 The first row of bodies lies upon flat stones, with 
 which the whole of the bottom is paved: these are 
 covered over with new layers, serving as beds for 
 other bodies placed like the former, and so on to the 
 top. As in the fortifications on the Muskinghum, we 
 meet with no signs of mortar, and no traces of the 
 hammer. The new state of Tennessee is full of these 
 tombs, and several caves have also been discovered 
 there in which bones have been found. 
 
 " In the neighborhood of several Cherokee vil- 
 lages, in Iveowe, Steccoe, Sinica, <fce., there have 
 been found terraces, pyramids, or artificial hills, of 
 great height, whose origin was unknown to the 
 inhabitants whom the Cherokees drove out at the 
 time of their invasion, nearly two centuries ago. 
 The same artificial heights, the same proofs of the 
 residence and power of ancient nations, are also 
 found in the two Floridas, on the banks of the 
 Oakmulgee, at Taensa, on the Alabama, &c. 
 
 "At what period, by what people, were these 
 works constructed ? What degree of civilization 
 had this people reached ? Were they acquainted 
 with the use of iron ? What has become of them I 
 Can we conceive that nations sufficiently powerful 
 to have raised such considerable fortifications, and 
 who buried their dead with such religious care, can 
 
THE LIBRARY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA 
 
 177 
 
 have been destroyed and replaced by the ignorant 
 and barbarous hordes we see about us at the present 
 day? Could the calamities occasioned by a long 
 state of war have effaced the last traces of their 
 civilization and brought them back to the primitive 
 condition of hunters? Are our Indians the descend- 
 ants of that ancient people ? 
 
 "Such are the doubts and conjectures which arise 
 in our minds on contemplating the traces of the pas- 
 sage and existence of the nations which inhabited 
 the regions of the west ; traces which are not suf- 
 ficient to guide us in the vagueness of the past. 
 Although neither arms nor instruments of iron have 
 yet been discovered, how can we conceive that they 
 could dig such deep ditches, or raise such large 
 masses of earth, without the aid of that metal ? 
 This ancient people must have had chiefs, and been 
 subject to laws ; for without the bonds of subordina- 
 tion, how could they have collected and kept to- 
 gether so great a number of workmen ? They must 
 have been acquainted with agriculture, since the 
 products of the chase would never have sufficed to 
 support them. The extent of these camps also 
 proves that the number of the troops destined to 
 defend these works, and that of the families to 
 which, in moments of danger, they afforded an 
 asylum, was immense. The cemeteries prove that 
 they sojourned there a long time. This people must 
 therefore have been much further advanced in civil- 
 ization than our Indians. 
 
 " When the population of the United States shall 
 have spread over every part of that vast and beauti- 
 ful region, our posterity, aided by new discoveries, 
 may then perhaps form more satisfactory conjec- 
 tures. What a field for reflection ! A new conti- 
 nent, which, at some unknown period, appears to 
 have been inhabited by agricultural and warlike 
 nations ! Were it not for my advanced age, I would 
 myself cross the mountains to examine those old 
 military works. Perhaps a careful and minute 
 inspection would give rise to conjectures which 
 now elude all the combinations of the mind." 
 
 THE LIBEAEY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA. 
 The first record of this institution is as follows : 
 
 Tiie minutes of me, Joseph Breintnall, Secretary 
 to the Directors of the Library Company of Phila- 
 delphia, with such of the minutes of the same direc- 
 tors as they order me to make, begun on the 8th 
 day of November, 1731. By virtue of the deed or 
 instrument of the said company, dated the first day 
 of July last. 
 
 The said instrument being completed by fifty sub- 
 scriptions, I subscribed my name to the following 
 summons or notice which Benjamin Franklin sent 
 by a messenger, viz. : 
 
 " To Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Hopkinson, Wil- 
 liam Parsons, Philip Syng, jun., Thomas Godfrey, 
 Anthony Nicholas, Thomas Cadwalader, John 
 Jones, jun., Robert Grace, and Isaac Penington. 
 Gentlemen, — The subscription to the library being 
 completed, you the directors appointed in the in- 
 strument, are desired to meet this evening at 5 
 o'clock, at the house of Nicholas Scull, to take bond 
 of the treasurer for the faithful performance of his 
 trust, and to consider of and appoint a proper time I 
 for the payment of the money subscribed, and other 
 matters relating to the said library. 
 
 Jos. Breintnall, See'y. 
 Philad., 8th Nov., 1731." 
 
 William Coleman was at this meeting elected 
 treasurer, and signed a bond with sureties for the 
 lull performance of his duties. The price of 
 
 vol. i. — 12 
 
 shares was fixed at forty shillings each, and ten 
 were at onee disposed of, but some difficulty was 
 experienced in collecting the amounts. At a 
 meeting on the 29th of March, 1732, it was 
 determined to proceed to the purchase of books, 
 and Thomas Godfrey having reported that James 
 Logan had expressed a willingness to give advice 
 as to their selection, it was ordered that Thomas 
 Godfrey wait on Mr. Logan, " a gentleman of 
 universal learning and the best judge of books in 
 these parts," and accept his offer. 
 
 The list was made out and intrusted to Thomas 
 Hopkinson, who was about sailing for England, 
 with a draft on London in his favor of £15 ster- 
 ling. Charles Broekden (the uncle of Broekden 
 Brown) having executed the original constitution 
 without charge, was presented with a share in 
 the association. Breintnall was excused from 
 the payment of annual dues for six years in con- 
 sideration of his services as secretary ; Syng, two 
 years, for engraving the seal of the company, and 
 Franklin two years, for printing notices to delin- 
 quent subscribers. 
 
 The books arrived in October, 1732, with the 
 addition of a donation of " Sir Isaac Newton's 
 Philosophy" and " Philip Miller's Gardener's 
 Dictionary," from Peter Oollmsoi*. They were 
 deposited in " Robert Grace's chamber, at his 
 house in Jones Alley :" Louis Timothee, the occu- 
 pant of the house, was appointed librarian, 
 and the collection opened on Wednesdays from 2 
 to 3 p.m. and on Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. 
 to subscribers, who were to be allowed to take 
 books out, while " any civil gentleman" was to be 
 permitted to examine the books on the premises. 
 Both privileges were extended to Mr. Logan, 
 though not a member of the Company. 
 
 In December, 1732, Dr. Franklin prepared and 
 printed a catalogue without charge. On tlie22d 
 of February, 1733, the full number of subscribers 
 originally contemplated, was filled up by the ad- 
 dition of the fiftieth, Joseph Growden. The first 
 American donor was William Rawle, who pre- 
 sented, on the 12th of March, 1733, a set of the 
 works of Edmund Spenser, in six volumes. On 
 the fifteenth of May following, an address was 
 drawn up and presented to Thomas Penn, the 
 son of William, proprietor of the colony, soliciting 
 his aid, which was responded to by the gift of 
 several articles, and in 1737, by the promise of a 
 lot of ground for a building. In May, 1738, Penn 
 presented an air-pump, accompanied by a com- 
 plimentary letter, which commences — 
 
 "Gentlemen, — It always gives me pleasure 
 whes I think of the Library Company of Phila- 
 delphia, as they were the first that encouraged 
 knowledge and learning in the province of Penn- 
 sylvania." 
 
 The praise is not ill deserved, a:, at the time of 
 its foundation, there was not even a good book- 
 store accessible nearer than Boston. 
 
 In 1738, the institution received a donation of 
 £58 6s. 8d. from Dr. Walter Sydserfe, of Antigua. 
 
 On the 7th of April, 17-40, the number of mem- 
 bers having in the meanwhile increased to 
 seventy-four, the library was removed " to the 
 upper room of the westernmost office of the 
 State House," by permission of the Assembly. 
 
 In 1762, the lot of ground promised in 1737 by 
 the Penn family, was conveyed to the institution. 
 
178 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was situated in Chestnut, near Ninth street, 
 and for several years yielded a small revenue. 
 
 Franklin at various times served in the direc- 
 tion, which also includes the names of Charles 
 Thomson, John Dickinson, Francis Hopkinson, 
 and others of high reputation. In 1767, "a 
 woman's hand, taken from an Egyptian mummy, 
 in good preservation," from Benjamin West, was 
 brought home by the librarian, Francis Hopkin- 
 son, for the museum. This collection received for 
 some time donations of similar curious trifles, 
 which were until recently exhibited in the rooms. 
 In 1768 the price of a share was raised to £10, 
 and on the thirteenth of March, the Union Li- 
 brary Company united with the institution, the 
 books and library house in Third Street, in which 
 they had been deposited, being included in the 
 transfer. In 1771 the Association Library Com- 
 pany and the Amicable Company were also incor- 
 porated with the institution. The collections 
 thus acquired seem to have been of small value. 
 
 In 1773 the books were removed to the second 
 floor of Carpenters' Hall, which was rented for 
 the purpose, and the library was for the first time 
 opened daily, from two to seven p.m. The libra- 
 rian's salary was fixed at £60. Large additions 
 were made to the cabinet of coins about the 
 same time. 
 
 On the assemblage of Congress, in 1774, the 
 free use of its library was tendered to its members. 
 The war retarded the progress of the company. 
 In 1777 the room' was occupied as a hospital. 
 Iu the same year the company received a hand- 
 some bequest of books by the will of James 
 Logan. 
 
 In 1784 the Library Company united with the 
 American Philosophical Society in a petition for 
 lots of ground on the State-house square, on which 
 to erect buildings for their separate accommoda- 
 tion, which were to correspond in appearance, 
 anil face on Fifth and Sixth Streets. So action 
 was taken on the petition, but the Philosophical 
 Society finally succeeded in obtaining a grant on 
 Fifth Street, the locality proposed for the Library 
 Company. Subsequent endeavors, in which Dr. 
 Franklin, as President of the Philosophical So- 
 ciety, took a prominent j>art, were made to unite 
 the two institutions under the same roof, but 
 without success. 
 
 The Philadelphia Library. 
 
 In 1789 the long contemplated intention of 
 erecting a suitable building for the library was 
 carried into effect, and the corner-stone of the 
 edifice on Fifth Street, facing the state-house 
 
 square, laid. It bears an inscription prepared by 
 Franklin, with the exception of the portions 
 relating to himself, which were added by the com- 
 mittee having the matter in charge. 
 
 Be it remembered, 
 
 In honour of the Philadelphia youth, 
 
 (then chiefly artificers) 
 
 that in MDCCXXXI, 
 
 they cheerfully 
 
 at the instance of Benjamin Franklin, 
 
 one of their number, 
 
 instituted the Philadelphia Library, 
 
 ■which, though small at first, 
 
 is become highly valuable, and extensively useful, 
 
 and which the walls of this edifice 
 
 are now destined to contain and preserve ; 
 
 the first stone of whose foundation 
 
 was here placed 
 the thirty -first day of August, 17S9. 
 
 The building, from the design of Dr. William 
 Thornton, who received a share as his compensa- 
 tion, was completed, and the books removed and 
 arranged by the close of the year 1790. The 
 libraiw was then opened daily from one o'clock to 
 sunset, and the librarian's salary fixed at £100. 
 William Bingham, a wealthy and liberal citizen, 
 having heard that the directors intended to place a 
 statue of Franklin on a niche in the front of the 
 building, volunteered to present such a work to 
 the institution. A bust and full length drawing 
 of the original were sent to Italy for the guidance 
 of the artist by whom the statue, which still graces 
 the niche, was executed. During the construction 
 of the edifice, a number of apprentices engaged 
 on the work were allowed by their masters to 
 give an amount of labor equivalent to the. pur- 
 chase money of a share, and thus constitute them- 
 selves members, an incident creditable to all 
 concerned. 
 
 In January, 1791, the free use of the library 
 was tendered to the President and Congress of 
 the United States, and in the following year an 
 addition made to the building, for the accommo- 
 dation of the Loganian library, a collection of 
 which we have already given an account.* 
 
 In the same year, the manuscripts of John 
 Fitch, relating to the steam-engine, were deposited 
 in the library, with a condition that they should 
 remain unopened until the year 1828. 
 
 In 1788 a portion of the collections of Pierre 
 du Simiiicre was purchased, on his decease. 
 
 John Adams, writing from Philadelphia, Au- 
 gust 14, 1776, says- 
 There is a gentleman here of French extraction, 
 whose name is Du Simitiere. a painter by profession, 
 whose designs are very ingenious, and his drawings 
 well executed. He has been applied to for his 
 advice. I waited on him yesterday, and saw his 
 sketches. For the medal he proposes, Liberty, with 
 her spear and pilens, leaning on General Washing- 
 ton. The British fleet in Boston harbor with all 
 their sterns towards the town, the American troops 
 marching in. For the seal, he proposes, The arms 
 of the several nations from whence America has 
 been peopled, as English, Scotch, Irish, Dutch, Ger- 
 man, &c, each in a shield. On one side of them, 
 Liberty with her pileus, on the other a rifler in his 
 uniform, with his rifle gun in one hand, and his 
 
 * Ante, p. 7S. 
 
GEORGE "WASHINGTON; 
 
 179 
 
 tomahawk in the other. This dress and these troops 
 with this kind of armor being peculiar to America, 
 unless the dress was known to the Romans. -Dr. 
 Franklin showed me yesterday a book, containing 
 an account of the dresses of all the Roman soldiers, 
 one of which appeared exactly like it. This M. du 
 Simitiere is a very curious man. He has begun a 
 collection of materials for a history of this revolu- 
 tion. He begins with the first advices of the tea 
 ships. He cuts out of the newspapers every scrap 
 of intelligence, and every piece of speculation, and 
 pastes it upon clean paper, arranging them under 
 the head of that State to which they belong, and in- 
 tends to bind them up in volumes. He has a list of 
 every speculation and pamphlet concerning indepen- 
 dence, and another of those concerning forms of go- 
 vernment. 
 
 These scraps and pamphlets form a valuable, 
 though by no means complete, collection of the 
 fugitive literature of the period. 
 
 A collection of " Thirteen portraits of Ameri- 
 can legislators, patriots, and soldiers, who dis- 
 tinguished themselves in rendering 
 their country independent, viz. Ge- 
 neral Washington, Gen. Baron de 
 Steuben, Silas Deane, Gen. Reed, 
 Gov. Morris, Gen. Gates, John Jay, 
 "W. II. Drayton, Henry Laurens, 
 Charles Thomson, S. Huntingdon, 
 J. Dickenson, Gen. Arnold. Drawn 
 from the life by Du Simitiere, 
 painter and member of the Philosophical So- 
 ciety in Philadelphia, and engraved by Mr. B. 
 Reading," was published in London in 1783. 
 The engravings are good, and that of Washing- 
 ton (a profile) is quite different from any others 
 in circulation. 
 
 In 1793, the price of shares was changed to 
 their present value, $40. 
 
 In 1799, a valuable collection of manuscripts 
 relating to the history of Ireland, and including 
 the original Correspondence of James I. with the 
 Privy Council of that country, from 1603 to 1615 
 inclusive, was presented by William Cox, and in 
 1804 the institution was still further enriched by 
 the bequest of one thousand pounds from John 
 Bleakly, and of a very valuable collection of rare 
 and curious books, including many richly illus- 
 trated volumes, from the Rev. Samuel Preston, a 
 friend of Benjamin West, to whose suggestion 
 the library is indebted for the gift. 
 
 Another bequest was received in 1828, by the 
 will of William Mackenzie, of five hundred rare 
 and valuable volume;.* 
 
 The library now numbers 65,000 volumes. It 
 has, until recently, been for several years under 
 the care of John Jay Smith, as librarian, a gen- 
 tleman to whom the public are indebted for the 
 publication of a large and valuable collection of 
 fac-similes of manuscript documents and speci- 
 mens of early and revolutionary newspaper and 
 oilier curiosities.! On Mr. Smith's resignation, in 
 
 * Notes for a History of the Library Company of Philadel- 
 phia, by J. Jay Smith. 
 
 t Mr. Smith was for many years the editor of Waldie's Circu- 
 lating: Library. He is the author of 
 
 A Summer's Jaunt across tlie Water. By J. Jay Smith, 
 Philadelphia, 2 vols. 12mo. 1S46. 
 
 Michaux's Sylva of North American Trees. Edited, with 
 notes, by J. Jay Smith. 8 vols. 8vo. Philadelphia, 1851. 
 
 1851, he was succeeded by his son Lloyd P. Smith, 
 Esq., under whose care an additional volume to 
 the catalogue, published in two volumes 8vo., in 
 1835, has been prepared, which will render still 
 more accessible to the public, the rare pamphlets 
 and fugitive literature relating to the history of 
 the country, scattered through the collection. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 The name of "Washington may be introduced in a 
 collection of American literature, rather to grace 
 it than do honor to him. In any strict sense of 
 the word, Washington was not a literary man ; 
 he never exercised his-mindin composition on any 
 of those topics abstracted from common life, or its 
 affairs, which demanded either art or invention. 
 He prepared no book of elaborate industry. — 
 Yet he was always scrupulously attentive to the 
 claims of literature ; elegant and punctilious in the 
 acknowledgment of compliments from authors 
 and learned institutions ; and had formed a style 
 
 which is so peculiar that it may be recognised by 
 its own ear-mark. He was for nearly the whole 
 of his life actively employed, a considerable part 
 of the time in the field, where the pen was oftener 
 in his hand than the sword. Though he produc- 
 ed no compositions which may be dignified with 
 the title of " works," the collection of his " writ- 
 ings," in the selection of Mr. Sparks, fills twelve 
 large octavo volumes. As embraced in the folio 
 series of Mr. Force, the number will be greatly 
 increased. In the chronicle of American litera- 
 ture, if it were only for their historical material, 
 some mention of these papers would be necessary. 
 In 1754, Washington appeared as an author in 
 the publication at Williamsburg, Virginia, and in 
 London, of hfs Journal of his proceeding " to and 
 from the French of the Ohio," a brief tract, which 
 he hastily wrote from the rough minutes taken on 
 his expedition. 
 
 The Letters of Washington early attracted at- 
 tention, and several publications of them were 
 made in 1777, in 1795 and" '6, in the perusal of 
 which the reader should be on his guard to note 
 the authenticity, a number of these compositions 
 being spurious. Washington's respect for his 
 character led him to prepare a careful list of the 
 fabrications, which he transmitted in a letter to 
 Timothy Pickering, then Secretary of State* The 
 publication by Mr. Sparks of Washington's writ- 
 ings, a selection from the correspondence, ad- 
 dresses, messages, and other papers, was corn- 
 
 American Historical and Literary Curiosities. By J. F. 
 Watson and J. Jav Smith. 2 vols. 4to. Philadelphia, 1S4T, 
 and New York, 1861. 
 
 Celebrated Trials of all Countries. 1 vol. Svo. Philadelphia, 
 1S85. 
 
 Letters of Dr. Richard Hill and his descendants. Edited by 
 J. Jav Smith. Privately printed. Svo. Philadelphia, 1S54. 
 
 * To Timothy Pickering, Philadelphia, March 3, 17D7.— 
 Sparks's Washington, xi. 192. 
 
180 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA CF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 pleted by him in 1837; and is the most accessible 
 work in which the mind of "Washington can be 
 properly studied, as he himself placed its decisions 
 upon record. 
 
 As a question not long since arose with respect 
 to Mr. Sparks's editorship, which enlisted several 
 distinguished combatants, it may not be amiss to 
 present a brief account of it. 
 
 The chief publications on the matter consist of, 
 first, a paper by " Friar Lubin," in the Evening 
 Post, Feb. 12, 1851, then the notice in the ap- 
 pendix of Lord Mahon's sixth volume of his His- 
 tory of England,* which drew forth from Mr. 
 Sparks, A Reply to the Strictures of Lord Mahon 
 and others, on the mode of Editing the Writing!, of 
 Washington, 1852 ; next a letter of Lord Mahon 
 in 1852, addressed to Mr. Sparks, being A Re- 
 joinder to his Reply to the Strictures, &c, to 
 which Mr. Sparks replied in his Letter to Lord 
 Mahon, being an Ansioer to his Letter addressed 
 to the Editor of Washington's Writings, dated 
 Camb. Oct. 25, 1852. Here the matter rested, 
 till Mr. William B. Reed published a Reprint of 
 the Original Letters from Washington to Jo- 
 seph Reed, duriny the American Recolution, re- 
 ferred to in the Pamphlets of Lord Mahon and 
 Mr. Sparks. Phil. Nov. 16, 1852. Tomeetthis 
 Mr. Sparks published a third pamphlet, Re- 
 marks on a " Reprint," &c, dated April 20, 1853. 
 The controversy may thus be summed up. Mr. 
 Sparks was charged, on the evidences of discre- 
 pancies seen in a comparison of his reprint of 
 Washington's Letters to Joseph Peed, with the 
 Letters as published in the Reed Memoirs by W. 
 B. Peed, with omissions and alterations affect- 
 ing the integrity of the correspondence. The 
 alterations were charged to be for the purpose of 
 putting a better appearance on the war, and 
 amending the style of the writer. To the 
 omissions, Mr. Sparks replied that he never in- 
 tended to publish the whole, as he had declared 
 in his preface ; and to this it was answered that 
 if so, the omissions should have been noted where 
 they occur by asterisks and foot-notes. Mr. 
 Sparks justified himself from the imputation of a 
 prejudiced or local purpose in the omissions. 
 Several of the alleged alterations turned out to be 
 defects, not in Mr. Sparks's edition, but in Mr. 
 Reed's ; and others arose from discrepancies be- 
 tween the letters • sent by Washington, and his 
 copy of them in the letter books. A few cases 
 of alteration of Washington's phraseology Mr. 
 Sparks acknowledged, but stated his sense of their 
 slight importance, and his good intentions in the 
 matter. It may be said that all parties were 
 taught something by the discussion; for errors 
 of party judgment and of fact were corrected on 
 all sides. 
 
 There have been several distinct publications 
 of parts of Washington's Writings, which afford 
 matter of literary interest. Of these, the most 
 important is in reference to the Farewell Address 
 to the People of the United States of America. 
 
 The history of this composition would seem to 
 refer its authorship in various proportions .to 
 Madison, Hamilton, and Washington himself. 
 
 * History of England from the Peace of Utrecht. Vol. vi. 
 .Appendix. 1851. 
 
 The first was charged by the President in 1702, 
 on the approaching conclusion of his term of of- 
 fice, to assist him in the preparation of a farewell 
 paper, for which he furnished the chief points. 
 Madison put them briefly into shape ; but Wash- 
 ington accepting a second term of office, the ad- 
 dress was not called for at that time. On his sub- 
 sequent retirement, his intimacy with Madison, in 
 the course of political affairs, had somewhat abat- 
 ed, and Hamilton was consulted in the prepara- 
 tion of the required paper. Washington wrote 
 his views, and committed them to Hamilton, who, 
 instead of making amendments on the copy, wrote 
 out a new paper, including Washington's original 
 draft, which lie sent to the President, who then 
 appears to have re-written it and submitted it again 
 for revision to Hamilton and Jay. The copy en- 
 tirely in Washington's own handwriting, marked 
 with corrections and erasures, which was sent to 
 the printer, Claypoole, and from which the ad- 
 dress was first published, is now in the possession 
 of Mr. James Lenox of New York, by whom it 
 has been printed with a careful marking of all the 
 erasures.* It is considered by Mr. Lenox that 
 this is Washington's second draft of the paper, 
 altered by him after he had received the Llaniil- 
 ton and Jay revision. 
 
 It is impossible to determine accurately the 
 respective shares of Hamilton and Washington in 
 the language. The idea of the whole was pro- 
 jected by Washington, and so far as can be learnt, 
 the parts were mostly contrived and put into 
 shape by him. The deliberation and intelligent 
 counsel bestowed upon the work, proved by the 
 Madison, Hamilton, and Jay letters on the subject, 
 so far from detracting from Washington's own 
 labors, add further value to them. He had a pub- 
 lic duty to perform, and he took pains to discharge 
 it in the most effective manner. The pride of 
 literary authorship sinks before such considera- 
 tions. Yet the temper of this paper is eminently 
 Washingtonian. It is unlike any composition of 
 Madison or Hamilton, in a certain considerate 
 moral tone which distinguished all Washington's 
 writings. It is stamped by the position, the 
 character, and the very turns of phrase of the 
 great man who gave it to his country. 
 
 A publication representing a large part of 
 Washington's cares and pleasures, was published in 
 London in 1800, and "dedicated to the American 
 People," the Letters from his Excellency George 
 Washington, President of the United States of 
 America, to Sir John Sinclair, Bart., M.P., on 
 Agricultural and other Interesting Tojrics. En- 
 graced from the original letters, so as to be an 
 exact facsimile of the hand-writing of that cele- 
 brated character.^ 
 
 A folio volume of "Monuments of Washing- 
 ton's Patriotism," was published in 1811, in a 
 third edition, containing among other things a fac- 
 simile of Washington's Account of his expenses 
 during the Revolutionary War in his own hand- 
 writing — the only payment he would consent to 
 
 * Claypoole preserved the manuscript with care, and it passed 
 into the hands of his administrators, by whom it was sold at 
 auction in Philadelphia, in 1S50. Mr. Lenox becoming the pur- 
 chaser for the sum of $2300. llr.Lenox's reprint was limited to 
 229 copies in folio and quarto, for private circulation. 
 
 + These letters have been reprinted in ftc-simile by Franklin 
 Knight, Washington, 1S44. 
 
JOHN DICKINSON. 
 
 181 
 
 receive from the country. There are sixty -six 
 pages of the accounts.* 
 
 The handwriting of Washington, large, liberal, 
 and flowing, might be accepted as proof of the 
 honesty of the tigures.t Indeed this same hand- 
 writing is a capital index of the style of all the 
 letters, and may help us to what we would say of 
 its characteristics. It is open, manly, and uni- 
 form, with nothing minced, affected, or con- 
 tracted. It has neither the precise nor the slovenly 
 style which scholars variously fall into ; but a cer- 
 tain grandeur of the countenance of the man 
 seems to look through it. Second to its main 
 quality of truthfulness, saying no more than the 
 writer was ready to abide by, is its amenity and 
 considerate courtesy. Washington had, at dif- 
 ferent times, many unpleasant truths to tell ; but 
 he could always convey them in the language of 
 a gentleman. He wrote like a man of large and 
 clear views. His position, which was on an emi- 
 nence, obliterated minor niceties and shades which 
 might have given a charm to his writings in other 
 walks of life. This should always be remembered, 
 that Washington lived in the eye of the public, 
 and thought, spoke, and wrote under the respon- 
 sibility of the empire. Let. his writings be com- 
 pared with those of other rulers and commanders, 
 he will be found to hold his rank nobly, as well 
 intellectually as politically. There will be found, 
 too, a variety in his treatment of different topics 
 and occasions. He can compliment a friend in 
 playful happy terms on his marriage, as well as 
 thunder his demands for a proper attention to the 
 interests of the country at the doors of Congress. 
 Never vulgar, he frequently uses colloquial phra- 
 ses with effect, and, unsuspected of being a poet, 
 is fond of figurative expressions. In fine, a critical 
 examination of the writings of Washington will 
 ■ show that the man here, as in other lights, will 
 suffer nothing by a minute inspection. 
 
 JOHN DICKINSON, 
 
 The author of The Farmer's Letters, the spirited 
 and accurate vindication of the rights of the Colo- 
 nies against the pretensions of the British Parlia- 
 ment, and the writer of several of the most 
 important appeals of the Old Continental Con- 
 gress, was a native of Maryland, where he was 
 born in 1732. His parents shortly removed to 
 Delaware. , He studied law at Philadelphia and 
 prosecuted his studies at the temple in London. 
 On his return to Philadelphia he practised at the 
 bar. In 176± he was one of the members for the 
 county in the House of Assembly of the Province, 
 when he defended in a speech the privileges of 
 the state against the meditated innovations of the 
 Government. It is characterized by the force of 
 argument, weight and moderation of expression 
 by which his style was always afterwards recog- 
 nised. His Address to the Committee of Corre- 
 spondence in Barbadoes who had censured the 
 opposition of the northern colonies to the Stamp 
 Act, published at Philadelphia, in 1766, is an elo- 
 quent and dignified defence of the proceedings of 
 
 * It was published at Washington, " by the Trustees of Wash- 
 ington's Manual Labour School and Male Orphan Asylum, for 
 the benefit of that institution." 
 
 + It is endorsed, by the same hand, "Accounts, G.Washington 
 with the United States, commencing June, 1775, and ending 
 June, 1783. Comprehending a space of eight years." 
 
 the colonies. In this he borrows an illustration 
 since grown familiar in Congressional speaking. 
 " Let any person," says he, " consider the speeches 
 lately made in parliament, and the resolutions 
 
 said to be made there, notwithstanding the con- 
 vulsions occasioned through the British Empire, 
 by the opposition of their colonies to the stamp 
 act, and he may easily judge what would have 
 been their situation, in case they had bent down 
 and humbly taken up the burden prepared for 
 them. When the Exclusion bill was depending 
 in the House of Commons, Col. Titus made this 
 short speech — ' Mr. Speaker, I hear a lion roaring 
 in the lobby. Shall we secure the door, and keep 
 him there : or shall we let him in, to try if we 
 can turn him out again V " * 
 
 The Farmers Letters to the Inhabitants of the 
 British Colonies were printed at Philadelphia in 
 1767. Dr. Franklin caused them to be reprinted 
 in London the next year, with a Preface, which 
 he wrote, inviting the attention of Great Britain 
 to the dispassionate consideration of American 
 " prejudices and errors," if these were such, and 
 hoping the publication of the Letters would 
 " draw forth a satisfactory answer, if they can be 
 answered." In 1769, the book was published at 
 Paris in French. It consists of twelve letters, 
 
 * Pictorial Hist, of England. Bk. viii. ch. 1, p. 733. Notes 
 and Queries, vii. SIS. The last application of this convenient 
 parliamentary proverb, was in the Nebraska question in tho 
 debate of 1864 The versification of the story by the Ecv. Mr. 
 Bramston, in his adaptation of Horace's Art of Poetry, supplies 
 the usual form of quotation. 
 
 With art and modesty vour part maintain; 
 
 And talk like Col'nel Titus, not like Lane. 
 
 The trading knight with rants his speech begins, 
 
 Sun, moon," and stars, and dragons, saints, and kings: 
 
 But Titus said, with his uncommon sense, 
 
 When the Exclusion bill was in suspense, 
 
 I hear a lion in the lobby roar ; 
 
 Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door 
 
 And keep him there, or shall we let him in 
 
 To try if we can turn him out again ? 
 
 Dodsloy's Collection of Poerm, i. 2C5. 
 
182 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 written in the character of " a farmer, settled, 
 after a variety of fortunes, near the banks of the 
 river Delaware, in the province of Pennsylvania," 
 "who claims for himself a liberal education and 
 experience of " the busy scenes of life," but who 
 has become convinced " that a man may be as 
 happy without bustle as with it." He spends his 
 time mostly in his library, and has the friendship 
 of " two or three gentlemen of abilities and 
 learning," and having been " taught by his 
 honored parents to love humanity and liberty," 
 proposes to try the political abuses of the times 
 by these sacred tests. There is very little of the 
 farmer about the work, unless the cool tempered 
 style and honest patriotic purpose is a charac- 
 teristic of the fields. The skill and force of the 
 argument betray the trained constitutional lawyer. 
 The immediate topics handled are the act for 
 suspending the legislation of New York, the act 
 for granting the duties on paper, &c, the pro- 
 priety of peaceful but effective resistance to the 
 oppression of Parliament, the established preroga- 
 tive of the colonies invaded by Grenville, the 
 grievance of an additional tax for the support of 
 the conquests in America from the French, the 
 necessity in free states of " perpetual jealousy 
 respecting liberty" and guardianship of the con- 
 stitutional rights of the British subject and colo- 
 nist. There is little ornament or decoration in 
 these writings ; the style is simple, and, above all, 
 sincere. You feel, as you read, that you are pay- 
 ing attention to the language of an honest gentle- 
 man. England should have taken Franklin's 
 warning of the circulation of these letters, and 
 should not have neglected the force of their 
 mingled courtesy and opposition. "With the 
 firmest they breathe the fondest mind.* The 
 attachment to England is constantly expressed, 
 and was the feeling of the high-minded race of 
 American gentlemen who became the "Whigs of 
 the Revolution. " We have," he writes, " a 
 generous, sensible, and humane nation, to whom 
 we may apply. Let us behave like dutiful chil- 
 dren, who have received unmerited blows from a 
 beloved parent. Let us complain to our parent ; 
 but let our complaints speak at the same time the 
 language of affliction and veneration." 
 
 Thus early in the field in defence of American 
 constitutional liberty was John" Dickinson. In 
 1774, he published his Essay on the Constitu- 
 tional Power of Great Britain oxer the Colonies 
 in America, prepared as a portion of the Instruc- 
 tions of the Committee for the Province of 
 Pennsylvania to their Representatives in Assem- 
 bly. Elected to the Congre=s of 1774, he wrote the 
 Address to the Ink bitants of Quebec, the First Pe- 
 tition to the King, the Perforation to the Amies, the 
 Second PeHtiou to the King, and the Address to the 
 Several States. These are papers of strong and in- 
 nate eloquence. The Declaration of Congress of 
 July 6, 1775, read to the soldiery, contains the me- 
 morable sentences, adopted from the draft by Tho- 
 mas Jefferson, ''Our cause is just. Our Union is per- 
 fect. Ourinternal resources are great, and, if neces- 
 sary, foreign assistance is undoubtedly attainable. 
 "We gratefully acknowledge, as signal instances of 
 the Divine favor towards us, that his providence 
 
 * The poet Crabbe's noble peasant, Isaac Ashford, "who, 
 With the firmest bad the fondest mind. 
 
 would not permit us to be called into this severe 
 controversy, until we were grown up to our pre- 
 sent strength, had been previously exercised in 
 warlike operations, and possessed the means of 
 defending ourselves. "With hearts fortified by 
 these animating reflections, we most solemnly, 
 before God and the world, declare, that exerting 
 the utmost energy of those powers, which our 
 beneficent Creator hath graciously bestowed upon 
 us, the arms we have been compelled by our 
 enemies to assume, we will, in defiance of every 
 hazard, with unabating firmness and perseverance, 
 employ for the preservation of our liberties ; 
 being with one mind resolved to die freemen 
 rather than to live slaves." Its concluding ap- 
 peal was: — "In our own native land, and in 
 defence of the freedom that is our birthright, and 
 which we ever enjoyed till the late violation of 
 it — for the protection of our property, acquired 
 solely by the honest industry of our forefathers 
 and ourselves, against violence actually offered, 
 we have taken up arms. "We shall lay them 
 down when hostilities shall cease on the part of 
 the aggressors, and all danger of their being 
 renewed shall be removed, and not before. With 
 an humble confidence in the mercies of the 
 supreme and impartial Judge and Ruler of the 
 universe, we most devoutly implore his divine 
 goodness to protect us happily through this great 
 conflict, to dispose our adversaries to reconcilia- 
 tion on reasonable terms, and thereby to relieve 
 the empire from the calamities of civil war." 
 When these sentences were read in camp to 
 General Putnam's division, the soldiers " shouted 
 in three huzzas, a loud Amen!'"* They express 
 Dickinson's feeling on the commencement of hos- 
 tilities, and the principles which governed him 
 when of all the members of the Congress of 1776 
 he only did not sign the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence. He was ready /or war as a means of 
 redress, but he would not, at that time, shut the 
 door against reconciliation. His course was ap- 
 preciated by his noble compatriots in Congress, 
 who knew the man and his services ; with the 
 people it cost him two years of retirement from 
 the public service. Though claiming the privi- 
 lege of thinking for himself, he was not one of 
 those impracticable statesmen who refuse to act 
 with a constitutional majority. He proved his 
 devotion to the cause of liberty by immediately 
 taking arms in an advance to Elizabethtown. 
 Retiring to Delaware, he was employed in- 1777 
 in the military defence of that State, whose 
 Assembly returned him to Congress in 1709, when 
 he wrote the Address to the States of the 26th 
 May. He succeeded Cfesar Rodney as President 
 of Delaware in 1781. The next year he filled the 
 same office in Pennsylvania, which he held till 
 Franklin succeeded him in 1785. His Letters of 
 Fabius on the Federal Constitution, in 178S. 
 were an appeal to the people in support of the 
 provisions of that proposed instrument, marked 
 by his habitual energy and precision. In the 
 reprint of this work he compares passages of it 
 with the views and expressions of Paine's Fights 
 of Han. as published three years after his origi- 
 nal. Another series of letters, with the same 
 signature, in 1797, On the Present Situation oj 
 
 * Humphrey's Life of Putiiain. 
 
PELEG FOLGER. 
 
 183 
 
 PuUio Afftirs, present a review of the relations 
 of the country with France, in which there is a 
 spirit of calm historical investigation, with much 
 statesmanlike philosophical discussion, as in his 
 remarks on the connexion of self-love and virtue, 
 applied to the imputed, interested motives of 
 the French government in its American alliances. 
 At this time lie was living at Wilmington, in 
 Delaware, where he superintended the collection 
 of his political writings in 1801.* He passed his 
 remaining years in retirement, in the enjoyment 
 of his literary acquisitions, and the society of his 
 friends, who were attracted by his conversation 
 and manners, dying Feb. 14, 180S, at the age of 
 seventy-six. 
 
 He had married in 1770 Mary Norris, of Fair 
 Hill, Philadelphia county. John Adams, in 1774, 
 dined with him at this seat, and notices " the 
 beautiful prospect of the city, the river, and the 
 country, fine gardens, and a very grand library. 
 The most of his books were collected by Mr. 
 Norris, once speaker of the House here, father of 
 Mrs. Dickinson. Mr. Dickinson (lie adds) is a 
 very modest man, and very ingenious as well as 
 agreeable." Again he describes him in committee 
 duty of Congress " very modest, delicate, and 
 timid," though he forfeited the character with 
 Adams by what the latter thought an attempt to 
 bully him out of his ardent pursuit of indepen- 
 dence. Personally, Adams describes him at that 
 time as subject to hectic complaints. " lie is a 
 shadow ; tall, but slender as a reed ; pale as ashes; 
 one would think at first sight that he could not 
 live a mouth; yet, upon a more attentive inspec- 
 tion, he looks as if the springs of life were strong 
 enough to last many years."t 
 
 PELEG FOLGER. 
 Peleg Folgf.r, a Quaker, was born at Nantucket 
 in the year 1734. His boyhood was passed on a 
 farm, where he remained until twenty-one, when 
 he changed from land to sea, and for several years 
 was engaged in the cod and whale fisheries. He 
 kept a journal of his voyages, which is written in 
 a much more scholarly manner than could be ex- 
 pected from his limited education. He introduced 
 into it a number of poetical compositions, one of 
 which is quoted in Macy's History of Nantucket. 
 
 DOMINU.M COLLAtJDAMUS. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, celebrate his fame, 
 Praise the eternal God, that dwells above ; 
 
 His power will forever be the same, 
 The same for ever his eternal love. 
 
 Long as that, glitt'ring lamp of heaven, the sun, 
 Long as the moon or twinkling stars appear, 
 
 Long as they all their annual courses run, 
 And make the circle of the sliding year ; 
 
 So long our gracious God will have the care 
 To save his tender children from all harms; 
 
 Wherever danger is, he will be near, 
 And, underneath, his everlasting arms. 
 
 * The Political Writing of John Dickinson. Esq.. late Presi- 
 dent of the State of Delaware, and of tli3 Commonwealth of 
 Pennsylvania. 2 vols. 8vo. Wilmington : Bonsai and Niles, 
 IS01. 
 
 t Adams's Diary. Works, ii. 800, 879, 401. 
 
 Lord, I pray, my feeble muse inspire, 
 That, while I touch upon a tender string, 
 
 1 may be filled, as with celestial fire, 
 And of thy great, deliverances sing. 
 
 My soul is lost, as in a wond'rous maze, 
 When I contemplate thine omnipotence, 
 
 That did the hills create, and mountains raise, 
 And spread the stars over the wide expanse. 
 
 Almighty God, thou didst create the light, 
 That swiftly through th' etherial regions flies ; 
 
 The sun to rule the day, the moon the night, 
 With stars adorning all the spangled skies. 
 
 Thou mad'st the world and all that is therein, 
 Men, beasts, and birds, and fishes of the sea: 
 
 Men still against thy holy law do sin, 
 Whilst all the rest thy holy voice obey. 
 
 Monsters that in the briny ocean dwell, 
 
 And winged troops that every way disperse, 
 
 They nil thy wonders speak, thy praises tell, 
 O thou great ruler of the universe. 
 
 Ye sailors, speak, that, plough the wat'ry main, 
 Where raging seas and foaming billows roar, 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, and in a lofty strain, 
 Sing of his wonder-working love and power. 
 
 Thou did'st, O Lord, create the mighty whale, 
 That wondrous monsterof a mighty length; 
 
 Vast is his head and body, vast his tail, 
 
 Beyond conception his unmeasured strength. 
 
 When he the surface of the sea hath broke, 
 Arising from the dark abyss below, 
 
 His breath appears a lofty stream of smoke, 
 The circling waves like glitt'ring banks of snow. 
 
 But, everlasting God, thou dost ordain, 
 That we poor feeble mortals should engage 
 
 (Ourselves, our wives and children to maintain,) 
 This dreadful monster with a martial rage. 
 
 And, though he furiously doth us assail, 
 
 Thou dost preserve us from all dangers free; 
 He cuts our boat in pieces with his tail, 
 
 And spills us all at once into the sea. 
 * w * * * 
 I twice into the dark abyss was cast, 
 
 Straining and struggling to retain my breath, 
 Thy waves and billows over me were past. 
 
 Thou didst, O Lord, deliver me from death. 
 
 Expecting every moment still to die, 
 
 Methought I never more should see the light: 
 Well nigh the gates of vast eternity 
 
 Environed nte with everlasting night. 
 Great was my anguish, earnest were my cries, 
 
 Above the power of human tongue to tell, 
 Thou hear'dst, OLord, my groans and bitter sighs, 
 
 Whilst I was lab'ring in the womb of hell. 
 
 Thou saved'st me from the dangers of the sea, 
 That I might bless thy name for ever more. 
 
 Thy love and power the same will ever be, 
 Thy mercy is an inexhausted store. 
 
 Oh, may I in thy boundless power confide, 
 
 And in thy glorious love for ever trust, 
 Whilst I in thy inferior world reside. 
 
 Till earth return to earth and dust to dust. 
 And when I am unbound from earthly clay, 
 
 Oh, may my soul then take her joyful flight 
 Into the realms of everlasting day, 
 
 To dwell in endless pleasure and delight, 
 
 At God's right hand, in undiminished joy, 
 In the blest tabernacles made above, 
 
 Glory and peace without the least alloy, 
 Uninterrupted, never dying love. 
 
184 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 There angels and archangels still remain, 
 The saints in their superior regions dwell, 
 
 They praise their God, and in a heavenly strain, 
 The wond'rous works of great Jehovah telL 
 
 And when I shall this earthly ball forsake, 
 And leave behind me frail mortality, 
 
 Then may my soul her nimble journey take 
 Into the regions of eternity. 
 
 Then may my blessed soul ascend above, 
 To dwell with that angelic, heavenly choir, 
 
 And in eternal songs of praise and love, 
 Bless thee, my God, my King, for evermore. 
 
 Folger was a man of pure and exemplary life, 
 and on his retirement from the sea, much sought 
 after for counsel by his neighbors, lie died in 
 1789. 
 
 JOHN ADAMS. 
 TnE Adams family had been thoroughly Ameri- 
 canized by a residence of three generations in 
 Massachusetts, when one of the most ardent 
 heralds and active patriots of the Revolution, 
 John Adams, was born at Braintree, the original 
 settlement of his great-great-grandfather, the 19th 
 October, 1735. His lather, who was a plain 
 fanner and mechanic, was encouraged by his apt- 
 ness for books to give him a liberal education, 
 lie was instructed by Mr. Marsh, for Cambridge, 
 at which institution he took his degree in the 
 year 1755. At this period, his Diary, published 
 by his grandson, Charles Francis Adams, com- 
 mences. It is a curious picture of an active and 
 politic struggle with the world, full of manly and 
 ingenuous traits. He kept this diary for thirty 
 years. At its commencement* he is at Worcester, 
 at the age of twenty, fresh from his college educa- 
 tion, thinking of preaching, and, in the mean time, 
 teaching school after the good American fashion, 
 as a means of livelihood. He records his visits 
 to the best houses of the place, while he studies 
 character closely, and picks up knowledge where 
 it is always most forcibly taught — in the oral, 
 conversational lessons of men of weight and expe- 
 rience. He questioned points of the Calvinistic 
 creed, discussed freely the Puritan theology : — in 
 later life referred his Unitarian views to this 
 period, — and the result was an abandonment of 
 his proposed ministerial study for the law. His 
 independent chopping of logic with; the country 
 gentlemen and clergy wa3 good discipline for a 
 revolutionist, who was to cope in the court room 
 and the senate with British political authority .+ 
 
 * It might be taken as an omen of the future undaunted 
 revolutionist, that the first entry in this Diary, of the date of 
 Nov. 18, 1755, relates to an earthquake in America: "We had 
 a very severe shock of an earthquake. It continued near four 
 minutes. I then was at my father's in Braintree, and awoke 
 out of my sleep in the midst of it. The house seemed to rock, 
 and reel, and crack, as if it would fall in ruins about us. 
 Chimnies were shattered by it, within one mile of my father's 
 house. 1 ' This was a vibration of the great shock which 
 destroyed the city of Lisbon. Other "shocks'' of the political 
 and social world were to be entered upou Mr. Adams's Diary 
 and Correspondence. 
 
 t This is a marked trait of the Diary, and is commented 
 upon by a writer .in the North American Review (Oct. 1850), 
 as " an important feature in the intellectual character of the 
 times. Burke, in his admirable sketch of the love of freedom 
 In the American Colonies, alludes to their religious character, 
 and especially to the prevalence in the northern colonies of 
 dissent from the Established Church of the mother country. 
 The religious discussion and controversy between diiferent 
 parties among the dissidents from the Church, had escaped his 
 
 His legal development as a student in the office of 
 Samuel Putnam follows : stiff, formal, constrained 
 reading in the days before Blackstone, with many 
 soul and body conflicts, between flesh and spirit, 
 all set down in the Diary : — memorials of idle- 
 ness, pipe-smoking, gallanting ladies, reading 
 Ovid's Art of Love to Dr. Savil's wife, and form- 
 ing resolutions against all of them, in favor of 
 "Wood and Justinian, Locke and Bolingbroke. 
 His self-knowledge appears to have been accurate 
 and unflinching. It is sometimes displayed with 
 considerable naivete. We may smile at his model- 
 ling a professional manner upon that of his pre- 
 ceptor, where he says, " I learned with design to 
 imitate Putnam's sneer, his sly look, and his look 
 of contempt. This look may serve good ends in 
 life, may procure respect ;" and at his deliberate 
 studies to ingratiate himself with the deacons by 
 small conversational hypocrisies, and his inten- 
 tions as a thing " of no small importance, to set 
 the tongues of old and young men and women a 
 prating in one's favor." His analysis of his vanity 
 is frequent; a vanity which was the constant 
 spur to action, allied to constitutional boldness 
 and courage, balanced by ready suspicion of his 
 motives and bearing. In his youth Adams was 
 at once self-reliant and self-denying : a combina- 
 tion which guaranteed him success in the world. 
 This training and formation of the man, as his 
 own pen set it down from day to day, is a cheer- 
 ful, healthy picture of conscientious exertion. 
 
 In 1765, he printed in the Boston Gazette the 
 papers which form his Dissertation on the Canon 
 and Feudal Law — a spirited protest against the 
 ecclesiastical and political systems of Europe, 
 with a general incitement to cultivate earnestly 
 civil and religious liberty, and the principles of 
 .American freedom independently of England. 
 
 It is not necessary here to pursue his political 
 career, which began in 1770 with his election to 
 the legislature, after he had secured a position at 
 the bar. In 1774, he travelled to Philadelphia a 
 member of the first Continental Congress, and 
 has left us some spirited notices of its eminent 
 characters. He found time to write in the same 
 year his Nozanglvs ; a History of the Dispute 
 with America, from its Origin in 1754 to the 
 Present Time. This was a series of papers in the 
 Boston Gazette, written in reply to the articles 
 of " Massachusettensis," the productions of 
 Daniel Leonard, which were much thought of on 
 the Eoyalist side, and were reprinted by Riving- 
 ton. Adams's language is direct and energetic, 
 and meets Tory assumptions with at least equal 
 vehemence.* 
 
 penetration. It had no doubt contributed materially to 
 sharpen the public mind and strengthen tiie existing predispo- 
 sition of the people to canvass with aeuteness, aiike for tho 
 purposes of defence and opposition, important propositions on 
 which they were called upon to make up their minds. Neither 
 of the parties, arrayed against each other mainly under tho 
 influence of the preaching of Whitefield. allied itself with tho 
 government in the political struggle ; and the entiie force of 
 the excitement of intellect and controversial skill, produced 
 \ by these controversies, was, between the years 1TG1 and 1775, 
 ■ turned upou the discussion of the light of Parliament to tax 
 America. 1 ' 
 
 * These were republished at Boston in 1819. under the direc- 
 tion of Adams, as a reply to the claims of Wirt for the early 
 Virginia movement, in his Life of Patrick Henry, — with the 
 title, "Novanglus and Massachusetteusis, or Political Essays, 
 published in the years 1774 and 1775, on the principal points 
 1 of Controversy between Great Britain aud her Colonies. The 
 
JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 185 
 
 John jJdawu 
 
 In the Congress of the next year, he had the 
 honor of first nominating George Washington as 
 Commander-in-Chief of the American forces. 
 Jefferson, with whom he was on the committee 
 for preparing the Declaration of Independence, 
 has celebrated his doughty championship of that 
 instrument. The letter which he wrote to his 
 wife when the act was resolved upon, has become 
 familiar to American ears as "household words." 
 Its anticipations have been fulfilled in every 
 syllable. " The second day of July, 177G," he 
 write-, "will lie the most memorable epocha in the 
 history of America. I am apt to believe that it 
 will be celebrated by succeeding generations as 
 the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be 
 commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by 
 solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It 
 ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, 
 with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, 
 and illuminations, from one end of this continent 
 to the other, from this time forward, for ever- 
 more."* 
 
 In 1777, Adams succeeded Silas Deane as Com- 
 missioner to France, where I*e was again sent in 
 1779, as minister, to negotiate peace. His pen 
 was employed in Holland in exhibiting the ideas 
 and resources of the United States. He arranged 
 the treaty of peace of 1783, at Paris, with Frank- 
 lin, Jay, and Laurens. In 1785, he became the 
 first minister to the court of England. In 1787, 
 in London, he published the first volume of his 
 Defence of the Constitutions of Government of 
 the United States of America, and the second and 
 third the year following. This work was pri- 
 marily suggested by a letter of Turgot, appended 
 to the "Observations on the Importance of the 
 American Revolution," by Dr. Richard Price, in 
 
 former by John Adams, late President of the United States ; 
 the latter by Jonathan Bewail, then Kind's Attorney-General 
 of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. To which are added a 
 number of Letters, lately written by President Adams to the 
 Hon. William Tudor." Adams then thought his opponent to 
 have been Mr. Sewall. — Works of Adams, iv. 4; Kennedy's 
 Life of Wirt. ii. 43. 
 
 * The letter in which this famous sentence of Adams occurs 
 was written to Mrs. Adams, and was dated Philadelphia, July 
 3. 1770. It refers to the second of July, the day of the resolu- 
 tion in Congress to make the declaration. The convenience of 
 referring the sentence to the fourth i5 obvious. 
 
 which comments are made on the Constitutions 
 of the States, the imitation of English usages 
 objected to, and the preference given to a single 
 authority of the nation or assembly, over a 
 balanced system of powers. The reading which 
 Adams brings to bear in the discussion of this 
 subject is very great, as he describes the conduct 
 of ancient and modern republics, and scrutinizes 
 the opinions of historians and political philoso- 
 phers. The Italian republics, in particular, occu- 
 py a large share of his attention. The work was 
 prepared in great haste, and with some defects of 
 form, which the editor of the Collected Works 
 has endeavored to amend by changing the original 
 style of letters to a friend into chapters, embracing 
 the whole or a distinct portion of a particular 
 topic, and by the arrangement of some dislocated 
 passages. 
 
 On his return to the United States, in 1788, he 
 was elected the first Vice-President of the United 
 States, an office which he held during both terms 
 of Wa-hingi oil's Presidency, to which he succeeded 
 in 1797. His Discourses on Davila ; a series of 
 papers on political history, were published in 
 1790, in the Gazette of the United States, at Phi- 
 ladelphia, as a sequel to the Defence. In 1812, he 
 wrote of this work : " This dull, heavy volume 
 still excites the wonder of its author, — first, that 
 he could find, amidst the constant scenes of busi- 
 ness and dissipation in which he was enveloped, 
 time to write it; secondly, that he had the 
 courage to oppose and publish his own opinions 
 to the universal opinion of America, and, indeed, 
 of all mankind." The opinions to which ho 
 alludes were supposed to be of an aristocratical 
 complexion. If Adams had a political system to 
 convey, it is to be regretted he did not adopt a , 
 clearer and more methodical form of writing 
 about it.* 
 
 The year 1817 brought to Adams a great per- 
 sonal affliction, in the death of his wife, his pub- 
 lished correspondence with whom has created a 
 lasting interest with posterity, in the intellectual 
 and patriotic resources of his home. This lady, 
 whose maiden name was Abigail Smith, was the 
 daughter of a Congregational clergyman at Wey- 
 mouth. She was married in her twentieth year, 
 in 176L Often separated from her husband by 
 the employments of his public life', the corre- 
 spondence between the two was a matter of 
 necessity, and in her hands became a pleasure as 
 well. Her style is spirited: she shows herself 
 versed in public affairs; with a good taste in the 
 poetic reading of the times.f 
 
 The last years of Adams were passed in the re- 
 tirement of a scholar and a politician, at his farm 
 at Quincy, till the dramatic termination of his 
 
 * Fessenden (Christopher Caustic), in one of the notes to his 
 Democracy Unveiled, speaks of -the tricks of the shuffling 
 Jacobins of the present period (18U6), who mutilate, garble, 
 and misquote Adams's Defence of the American Constitution, 
 in order to show that the author of a treatise written in defence 
 of a republican form of government is at heart a monarchist." 
 
 + The letters of Mrs. Adams, with a memoir by her L'rand- 
 son. C. F. Adams, were published in two volumes, in 1S40; 
 followed, the next year, by a similar publication of the letters 
 of John Adams, addressed to his wife. The latter are three 
 hundred in number. Thejournal and correspondence of Miss 
 Adams, the wife of Col. Smith, Secretary to the American 
 Legation at London, the daughter of John Adams, were pub- 
 lished in New York, in two vols. 1S41-2. Edited by her daugh- 
 ter, Mrs. J. P. DeWint, 
 
186 
 
 CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 career, parallel -with the death-bed of Jefferson, 
 on the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration 
 of Independence, in his ninety-first year. Still 
 in his ashes lived their wonted fires. On the 
 morning of his last day, he was asked for a senti- 
 ment for the public celebration. " Independence 
 for ever ! " exclaimed the dying patriot, in almost 
 his last words — words which carry back our 
 thoughts of John Adams over the period of his 
 political controversies — nearly a century — to the 
 early days of the Revolution, when Otis was " a 
 flame of fire," and the heart of the young Braintree 
 lawyer beat high as he rode on his way through 
 New England to the heroic old Continental Con- 
 gress. 
 
 PASSAGES FROM TITE DIARY. 
 
 Meditates Hie Choke of Ilercides. 
 
 Braintree, Jan. 8, 1759. — The other night the 
 choice of Hercules came into my mind, and left 
 impressions there which I hope will never be effaced, 
 nor long unheeded. I thought of writing a fable 
 on the same plan, but accommodated, by omitting 
 some circumstances and inserting others, to my own 
 case. 
 
 Let Virtue address me : " Which, dear youth, will 
 you prefer, a life of effeminacy, indolence, and 
 obscurity, or a life of industry, temperance, and 
 honor? Take my advice; rise and mount your 
 horse by the morning's dawn, and shake away, 
 amidst the great and beautiful scenes of nature that 
 appeal' at that time of the day, all the crudities that 
 are left in your stomach, and all the obstructions 
 that are left in your brains. Then return to your 
 studies, and bend your whole soul to the institutes 
 of the law and the reports of cases that have been 
 adjudged by the rules in the institutes ; let no 
 trifling diversion, or amusement, or company, decoy 
 you from your book ; that is, let no girl, no gun, no 
 cards, no flutes, no violins, no dress, no tobacco, no 
 laziness, decoy you from your books. (By the way, 
 laziness, languor, inattention, are my bane. I am 
 too lazy to rise early and make a fire ; and when 
 my fire is made, at ten o'clock my passion for know- 
 ledge, fame, fortune, for any good, is too languid to 
 make me apply with spirit to my books, and by 
 reason of my inattention my mind is liable to be 
 called off from law by a girl, a pipe, a poem, a love- 
 letter, a Spectator, a play, &c. <fec.) But keep your 
 law book or some point of law in your mind, at 
 least, six hours in a day. (I grow too minute and 
 lengthy.) Labor to get distinct ideas of law, right, 
 wrong, justice, equity; search for them in your own 
 mind, in Roman, Grecian, French, English treatises 
 of natural, civil, common, statute law; aim at an 
 exact knowledge of the nature, end, and means of 
 government ; compare the different forms of it with 
 each other, and each of them with their effects on 
 public and private happiness. Study Seneca, Cicero, 
 and all other good moral writers ; study Montes- 
 quieu, Bolingbioke, Vinnius, &c., and all other good 
 civil writers." 
 
 What am I doing ? shall I sleep away my whole 
 seventy years? no, by every thing I swear I will 
 renounce this contemplative, and betake myself to 
 an active, roving life by sea or land, or else I will 
 attempt some uncommon, unexpected enterprise in 
 law; let me lay the plan, and arouse spirit enough 
 to push boldly. I swear I will push myself into 
 business; I'll watch my opportunity to speak in 
 court, and will strike with surprise — surprise bench, 
 bar, jury, auditors and all. Activity, boldness, for- 
 wardness, will draw attention. I'll not lean with 
 my elbows on the table for ever, like Read, Swift, 
 
 Fitch, Skinner,, Story, <fcc. ; but I will not forego the 
 pleasure of ranging the woods, climbing cliffs, walk- 
 ing in fields, meadows, by rivers, lakes, &c, and 
 confine myself to a chamber for nothing. I'll have 
 some boon in return, exchange ; fame, fortune, or 
 something. 
 
 Here are two nights and one day and a half spent 
 in a softening, enervating, dissipating series of 
 hustling, prattling, poetry, love, courtship, marriage; 
 during all tins time I was seduced into the course of 
 unmanly pleasures that Vice describes to Hercules, 
 forgetful of the glorious promises of fame, immor- 
 tality, and a good conscience, which Virtue makes to 
 the same hero as rewards of a hardy, toilsome, 
 watchful life in the service of mankind. I could 
 reflect with more satisfaction on an equal space of 
 time spent in a painful research of the principles of 
 law, or a resolute attempt of the powers of elo- 
 quence. But where is my attention? 16 it fixed 
 from sunrise to midnight on Grecian, Roman, Gallic, 
 British law, history, virtue, eloquence ? I don't see 
 clearly the objects that I am after ; they are often 
 out of sight ; motes, atoms, feathers, are blown into 
 my eyes and blind me. Who can see distinctly the 
 course he is to take and the objects that he pursues, 
 when in the midst of a whirlwind of dust, straws, 
 atoms, pnd feathers ? 
 
 Let me make this remark. In Parson Wibird's 
 company something is to be learned of human 
 nature, human life, love, courtship, marriage. He 
 has spent much of his life from his youth in conver- 
 sation witli young and old persons of both sexes, 
 married and unmarried, and yet has his mind stuffed 
 with remarks and stories of human virtues and vices, 
 wisdom and folly, <fec. But his opinion, out of 
 poetry, love, courtship, marriage, politics, war, 
 beauty, grace, decency, <fcc, is not very valuable; 
 his soul is lost in a dronish effeminacy. I'd rather 
 be lost in a whirlwind of activity, study, business, 
 great and good designs of promoting the honor, 
 grandeur, wealth, happiness of mankind. 
 
 The Year 1765. 
 
 Braintree, December 18 of that date. — The year 
 1705 has been the most remarkable year of my 
 life. That enormous engine, fabricated by the 
 British Parliament, for battering down all the rights 
 and liberties of America, I mean the Stamp Act, lias 
 raised and spread through the whole continent a 
 spirit that will be recorded to our honor with all 
 future generations. In ever)' colony, from Georgia 
 to New Hampshire inclusively, the stamp distributers 
 and inspectors have been compelled by tiie uncon- 
 querable rage of the people to renounce their offices. 
 Such and so universal lias been the resentment of the 
 people, that every man who has dared to speak in 
 favor of the stamps or to soften the detestation in 
 which they are held, how great soever his abilities 
 and virtues had been esteemed before, or whatever 
 his fortune, connections, and influence had been, has 
 been seen to sink into universal contempt and 
 ignominy. 
 
 The people, even to the lowest ranks, have become 
 more attentive to their liberties, more inquisitive 
 about them, and more determined to defend them, 
 than they were ever before known or had occasion 
 to be ; innumerable have been the monuments of 
 wit, humor, sense, learning, spirit, patriotism, and 
 heroism, erected in the several colonies and provinces 
 in the course of this year. Our presses have groaned, 
 our pulpits have thundered, our legislatures have 
 resolved, our towns have voted ; the crown officers 
 have everywhere trembled, and all their little tools 
 and creatures been afraid to speak and ashamed to 
 be seen. 
 
JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 187 
 
 This spirit, however, has not yet teen sufficient to 
 banish from persons in authority that timidity which 
 they have discovered from the beginning. The exe- j 
 cutive courts have not yet dared to adjudge the ; 
 Stamp Act void, nor to proceed with business as ! 
 usual, though it should seem that necessity alone 
 would be sufficient to justify business at present, 
 though the act should be allowed to be obligatory. 
 The stamps are in the castle. Mr. Oliver has no 
 commission. The Governor has no authority to dis- 
 tribute or even to unpack the bales; the Act has 
 never been proclaimed nor read in the Province ; 
 yet the probate office is Bhut, the custom-house is 
 shut, the courts of justice are shut, and all business 
 seems at a stand. Yesterday and the day before, 
 the two last days of service for January Term, only 
 one man asked me for a writ, and he was soon 
 determined to waive his request. I have not drawn 
 a writ since the first of November. 
 
 How long we are to remain in this languid condi- 
 tion, this passive obedience to the Stamp Act, is not 
 certain. But such a pause cannot be lasting. 
 Debtors grow insolent; creditors grow angry; and 
 it is to be expected that the public offices will very 
 soon be forced open, unless such favorable accounts 
 should be received from England as to draw away 
 the fears of the great, or unless a greater dread of 
 the multitude should drive away the fear of censure 
 from Great Britain. 
 
 It is my opinion that by this inactivity we dis- 
 cover cowardice, and too much respect to the Act. 
 This rest appears to be, by implication at least, an 
 acknowledgment of the authority of Parliament to 
 tax us. And if this authority is once acknowledged 
 and established, the ruin of America will become 
 inevitable. 
 
 A very Pleasant Evening. 
 
 Boston, May 14, 1771. — A very pleasant evening. 
 Otis gave us an account of a present from Doctor 
 Cummiugs of Concord to Harvard College chapel, 
 of a brass branch of candlesticks, such as Isaac 
 Royal, Esq., gave to the Representatives' room, and 
 that it was sent to N. Hurd's to have an inscription 
 engraved on it. The inscription is — 
 
 In sacelli hujusee ornatum et splendorem 
 Phosphoron hoc munus, benigne contulit 
 Cuniicgs, armiger, medicos, Concordiensis. 
 
 Danforth. " The inscription was much faulted by 
 the wits at club, and as it was to be a durable thing 
 for the criticisms of strangers and of posterity, it was 
 thought that it ought to be altered." Doctor Cooper 
 mentioned an old proverb, that an ounce of mother 
 wit is worth a pound of clergy. Mr. Otis mentioned 
 another, which he said conveyed the same senti- 
 ment, — An ounce of prudence is worth a pound of 
 wit. This produced a dispute, and the sense .of the 
 company was, that the word wit in the second 
 proverb meant, the faculty of suddenly raising 
 pleasant pictures in the fancy ; but that the phrase, 
 mother wit, in the first proverb, meant natural 
 parts, and clergy-acquired learning — book learning. 
 Doctor Cooper quoted another proverb from his 
 Negro Glasgow, — A mouse can build an house with- 
 out trouble. And then told us another instance of 
 Glasgow's intellect, of which I had before thought 
 him entirely destitute. The Doctor was speaking 
 to Glasgow about Adam's Fall, and the introduction 
 of natural and moral evil into the world, and Glas- 
 gow said, they had in his country a different account 
 of this matter. The tradition was, that a dog and a 
 toad were to run a race, and if the dog reached the 
 goal first, the world was to continue innocent and 
 happy; but if the toad should outstrip the dog, the 
 
 world was to become sinful and miserable. Every 
 body thought there could be no danger; but in the 
 midst of the career the dog found a bone by the 
 way, and stopped to gnaw it ; and while he was 
 interrupted by his bone, the toad, constant in his 
 malevolence, hopped on, reached the mark, and 
 spoiled the world. 
 
 Col. Putnam's Indian Story. 
 Nov. 10, 1772. — Sunday. Heard Mr. Cutler of 
 Ipswich Hamlet; dined at Dr. Putnam's, with Colonel 
 Putnam andlady, and two young gentlemen, nephews 
 
 of the Doctor, and Colonel , and a Mrs. Seollay. 
 
 Colonel Putnam told a story of an Indian upon Con- 
 necticut River, who called at a tavern, in the fall of 
 the year, for a dram. The landlord asked him two 
 coppers for it. The next spring, happening at the 
 same house, he called for another, and had three 
 coppers to pay for it. " How is this, landlord <" 
 says he ; " last fall, you asked but two coppers for a 
 glass of rum, now you ask three." " Oh ! " says the 
 landlord, " it costs me a good deal to keep rum over 
 winter. It is as expensive to keep a hogshead of 
 rum over winter as a horse." " Ay ! " says the 
 Indian, "I can't see through that; he wont eat so 
 much hay : — Maybe he drink as much water." This 
 was sheer vjit, pure satire, and true humor. Humor, 
 wit and satire, in one very short repartee. 
 
 Madame Helvetius. 
 
 Paris, April 15, 1778. — Dined this day with 
 Madame Helvetius. One gentleman, one lady, Dr. 
 Franklin, his grandson, and myself, made the com- 
 pany ; an elegant dinner. Madame is a widow ; her 
 husband was a man of learning, and wrote several 
 books. She has erected a monument to her husband, 
 a model of which she has. It is herself weeping over 
 his tomb, with this inscription. 
 
 Toi dont l'Ame sublime et tendre, 
 A fait ma Gloire, et mon Bonheur, 
 Je V ai perdu : pivs de ta Ccndre, 
 Je viensjouir de ma l)uuleur. 
 
 Voltaire and Franklin. 
 Paris, April 29, 1778. — After dinner we went to 
 the Academy of Sciences, and heard M. d'Alembert, 
 as perpetual secretary, pronounce eulogies on several 
 of their members, lately deceased. Voltaire and 
 Franklin were both present, and there presently 
 arose a general cry that M. Voltaire and M. Franklin 
 should be introduced to each other. This was done, 
 and they bowed and spoke to each other. This was 
 no satisfaction ; there must be something more. 
 Neither of our philosophers seemed to divine what 
 was wished or expected ; they, however, took each 
 other by the hand. But this was not enough; the 
 clamor continued, until the explanation came out. 
 " II faut s'embrasser a la Francoise." The two aged 
 actors upon this great theatre of philosophy and 
 frivolity then embraced each other, by hugging one 
 another in their arms, and kissing each other's 
 cheeks, and then the tumult subsided. And the cry 
 immediately spread through the whole kingdom, 
 and, I suppose, over all Europe — " Qu'il etnit char- 
 maut de voir embrasser Solon et Sophocle ! "* 
 
 FROM TnE LETTERS. 
 
 John Adams to his Wife. 
 Philadelphia, May 22d, four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. After a series of the severest and harshest 
 
 * This anecdote is told in the Life of Voltaire, by Condorc.t, 
 (Euvres Completes, vol. c. p. 161.— -Vote to Works. 
 
183 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ■Breather that I ever felt in this climate, we are at 
 last blessed with a bright 6un end a soft air. The 
 weather here has been like our old easterly winds to 
 me and southerly winds to you. The charms of the 
 morning at this hour are irresistible. The streaks 
 of glory dawning in the east ; the freshness and 
 purity in the air, the bright blue of the sky, the 
 sweet warblings of a great variety of birds in- 
 termingling with the martial clarions of a hundred 
 cocks now within my hearing, all conspire to cheer 
 the spirits. 
 
 This kind of puerile description is a very pretty 
 employment for an old fellow whose brow is fur- 
 rowed with the cares of politics and war. I shall be 
 on horseback in a few minutes, and then I shall enjoy 
 the morning in more perfection. I spent the last 
 evening at the war office with General Arnold. He 
 has been basely slandered and libelled. The regu- 
 lars say, " he fought like Julius Caesar" [at Danbury]. 
 I am wearied to death with the wrangles between 
 military officers, high and low. They quarrel like 
 cats and dogs. They worry one another like mas- 
 tiffs, scrambling for rank and pay, like apes for nuts. 
 I believe there is no one principle which predomi- 
 nates in human nature so much, in every stage of 
 life, from the cradle to the grave, in males and 
 females, old and young, black and white, rich and 
 poor, high and low, as this passion for superiority. 
 Every human being compares itself in its imagina- 
 tion with every other round about it, and will find 
 some superiority over every other, real or imagin- 
 ary, or it will die of grief and vexation. I have 
 seen it among boys and girls at school, among lads 
 at college, among practitioners at the bar, among the 
 clergy in their associations, among clubs of friends, 
 among the people in town meetings, among the mem- 
 bers of a House of Representatives, among the grave 
 councillors, on the more solemn bench of Justice, 
 and in that awfully august body, the Congress, and 
 on many of its committees, and among ladies every- 
 where ; but I never saw it operate with sueh keen- 
 ness, ferocity, and fury, as among military officers. 
 They will go terrible lengths in their emulation, 
 their envy and revenge, in consequence of it. 
 
 So much for philosophy. I hope my five or six 
 babes are all well. My duty to my mother and 
 your father, and love to sisters and brothers, aunts 
 and uncles. Pray how does your asparagus perform ? 
 &c. I would give three guineas for a barrel of your 
 cider. Not one drop is to be had here for gold, and 
 wine is not to be had under six or eight dollars 
 a gallon, and that very bad. I would give a guinea 
 for a barrel of your beer. The small beer here is 
 wretchedly bad. In short, I can get nothing that I 
 can drink, and I believe I shall be sick from this 
 cause alone. Rum at forty shillings a gallon, and 
 bad water will never do, in this hot climate, in sum- 
 mer, when acid liquors are necessary against putre- 
 faction. 
 
 The same to the same. 
 
 Passy, April 25th, 1778. My Deaeest Feiend, — 
 Monsieur Chaumont has just informed me of a vessel 
 bound to Boston, but I am reduced to such a mo- 
 ment of time, that I can only inform you that I am 
 well, and enclose a few lines from Johnny to let you 
 know that he is so. I have ordered the things you 
 desired to be sent you, but I will not yet say by 
 what conveyance, for fear of accidents. 
 
 If human nature could be made happy by any 
 thing that can please the eye, the ear, the taste, or 
 any other sense, or passion, or fancy, this country 
 would be the region for happiness. But if my 
 country were at peace, I should be happier among 
 the rocks and shades of Penn's hill; and would 
 
 cheerfully exchange all the elegance, magnificence, 
 and sublimity of Europe, for the simplicity of Brain- 
 tree and Weymouth. 
 
 To tell you the truth, I admire the ladies here. 
 Don't be jealous. They are handsome, and very 
 well educated. Their accomplishments are exceed- 
 ingly brilliant, and their knowledge of letters and 
 arts exceeds that of the English ladies, I believe. 
 
 Tell Mrs. Warren that I shall write her a letter, as 
 she desired, and let her know some of my reflections 
 in this country. My venerable colleague [Dr. Frank- 
 lin] enjoys a privilege here, that is much to be 
 envied. Being seventy years of age, the ladies not 
 only allow him to embrace them as often as he 
 pleases, but they are perpetually embracing him. 
 I told him, yesterday, I would write this to America. 
 
 Mrs. Adams to her husoand. 
 
 Sunday, June ISth, 1775. Deaeest Feiend, — The 
 day, — perhaps, the decisive day r , — is come, on which 
 the fate of America depends. My bursting heart 
 must find vent at my pen. I have just heard, that 
 our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but fell glori- 
 ously fighting for his country ; saying, better to die 
 honorably in the field, than ignominiously hang upon 
 the gallows. Great is our loss. He has distil guish- 
 ed himself in every engagement, by his couiage and 
 fortitude, by animating the soldiers, and leading 
 them on by his own example. A particular account 
 of these dreadful, but I hope glorious days will be 
 transmitted to you, no doubt, in the exactest man- 
 ner. 
 
 " The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the 
 strong; but the God of Israel is he that giveth 
 strength and power unto his people. Trust in him 
 at all times, ye people, pour out your hearts before 
 him ; God is a refuge for us." Chnrlestown is laid 
 in ashes. The battle began upon our inti'enehmenta 
 upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning about three 
 o'clock, and lias not ceased yet, and it is now three 
 o'clock Sabbath afternoon. 
 
 It is expected they will come out over the Neck 
 to-night, and a dreadful battle must ensue. Almighty 
 God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and be a 
 shield to our dear friends! How many have fallen, 
 we know not. The constant roar of the cannon is so 
 distressing, that we cannot eat, drink, or sleep. 
 May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful 
 conflict. I shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe 
 by my friends, and then I have secured myself a 
 retreat at your brothers, who has kindly offered me 
 part of his house. I cannot compose myself to write 
 any further at present. I will add more as I hear 
 further. 
 
 Tuesday afternoon. — I have been so much agitated, 
 that I have not been able to write since Sabbath 
 day. When I say, that ten thousand reports are 
 passing, vague and uncertain as the wind, I believe 
 I speak the truth. I am not able to give you any 
 authentic account of last Saturday, but you will not 
 be destitute of intelligence. Colonel Palmer has 
 just sent me word, that he has an opportunity of 
 conveyance. Incorrect as this scrawl may be, it 
 6hall go. I ardently pray, that you may be sup- 
 ported through the arduous task you have before 
 you. I wisli I could contradict the report of the 
 Doctor's death ; but it is a lamentable truth, and the 
 tears of multitudes pay tribute to his memory; 
 those favorite lines of Collins continually sound in 
 my ears; 
 
 "How sleep the brave," &c* 
 
 I must close, as the Deacon waits. I have not 
 
 * Collins's Ode is too well known to need iosertion. 
 
HUGH WILLIAMSON. 
 
 189 
 
 pretended to be particular with regard to what I 
 have heard, because I know you will collect better 
 intelligence. The spirits of the people are very 
 good: the loss of Charlestowu affects them no more 
 than a drop of the bucket. I am, most sincerely, 
 Yours, Poetia. 
 
 Mrs. Adams to Mrs. Smith. 
 
 Quiney, Feb. 3d, 1794. My Dear Mrs. Smith, — I 
 have not written to you since I received yours of 
 January 5th. I go from home but very little, yet I 
 do not find my time hang heavy upon my hands. 
 You know that I have no aversion to jom in the 
 cheerful circle, or mix in the world, when oppor- 
 tunity offers. I think it tends to rub off those aus- 
 terities which age is apt to contract, and reminds us, 
 as Goldsmith says, " that we once were young." 
 Whilst our presence is easy to youth, it will tend 
 to guide and direct them. 
 
 "Be to their faults a little blind, 
 Be to their virtues ever kind, 
 And fix the padlock on the mind." 
 
 To-morrow our theatre is to open. Every pre- 
 caution has been taken to prevent such unpleasant 
 seenes as you represent are introduced upon yours. 
 I hope the managers will be enabled to govern the 
 mobility, or the whole design of the entertainment 
 will be thwarted. 
 
 Since I wrote you last, a renewal of the horrid 
 tragedies has been acted in France, and the Queen 
 is no more. 
 
 "Set is her star of life; — the pouring storm 
 Turns its black delude from that aching head; 
 The fiends of murder quit that bloodless form, 
 And the last animating hope is fled. 
 
 "Blest is the hour of peace, though cursed the hand 
 Which snaps the thread of life's disastrous loom; 
 Thrice blest tiie great, invincible command, 
 That deals the solace of the slumb'ring tomb." 
 
 Not content with loading her with ignominy, whilst 
 living, they blacken her memory by ascribing to her 
 the vilest crimes. Would to Heaven that the destroy- 
 ing angel might put up his sword, and say, " It is 
 enough ;" that he would bid hatred, madness, and 
 murder cease. 
 
 "Peace o'er the world her olive branch extend, 
 And white-robed Innocence from Heaven descend." 
 
 I wish, most ardently, that every arm extended 
 against that unhappy country might be withdrawn, 
 and they left to themselves, to form whatever con- 
 stitution they choose; and whether it is republican 
 or monarchical is not of any consequence to us, pro- 
 vided it is a regular government of some form or 
 other, which may secure the faith of treaties, and 
 due subordination to the laws, whilst so many go- 
 vernments are tottering to the foundations. Even 
 in one of the freest and happiest in the world, rest- 
 less spirits will aim at disturbing it. They cry "A 
 lion! a lion!" when no real danger exists, but from 
 their own halloo, which in time may raise other 
 ferocious beasts of prey. 
 
 Sirs. A dams to her husband, an his election to the Presidency. 
 Quiney. February 8th, 1797. 
 
 "The sun is dressed in brightest beams, 
 To give thy honors to the day." 
 
 And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each en- 
 suing season. You have this day to declare your- 
 self head of a nation. " And now, O Lord, my God, 
 thou hast made thy servant ruler over the people. 
 Give unto him an understanding heart, that he may 
 know how to go out and come in before this great 
 people ; that he may discern between good andbad. 
 
 For who is able to judge this thy so great a people ?" 
 were the words of a royal sovereign ; and not less 
 applicable to him who is invested with the chief 
 magistracy of a nation, though he wear not a crown, 
 nor the robes of royalty. 
 
 My thoughts and my meditations are with you, 
 though personally absent ; and my petitions to 
 Heaven are, that " the things which make for peace 
 may not be hidden from your eyes." My feelings 
 are not those of pride or ostentation, upon the occa- 
 sion. They are solemnized by a sense of the obli- 
 gations, the important trusts, and numerous duties 
 connected with it. That you may be enabled to 
 discharge them with honor to yourself, with justice 
 and impartiality to your country, and with satisfac- 
 tion to this great people, shall be the daily prayer 
 of your A. A. 
 
 HUGH WILLIAMSON. 
 A physician, patriot of note and historical writer, 
 was born of Irish parentage in West Nottingham 
 township, Pennsylvania, Dec. 5, 1735. He was 
 taught at the country academy of the Rev. Fran- 
 cis Alison. After leaving the college of Philadel- 
 phia, he became a Presbyterian preacher, which 
 his ill health did not permit him to continue. 
 He was then Professor of Mathematics in his 
 college at Philadelphia, carrying on his medical 
 studies, which he further prosecuted in a resi- 
 dence at Edinburgh in 1704; obtaining his medi- 
 
 ^^*-/<^^Z_ 
 
 cal degree at Utrecht. On his return to Phila- 
 delphia lie was engaged in several important 
 astronomical observations, which he published in 
 the transactions of the Philadelphia and New 
 York Philosophical Societies. He travelled in 
 1772 to the West India Islands, and the next 
 year through Great Britain, to collect funds for 
 an academy at Newark, in Delaware. He had 
 the honor of reporting to the British Government 
 the destruction of the tea in Boston harbor, and 
 prophesying before the Privy Council a civil war 
 if the coercive 'policy was continued. It is not 
 true, as has been stated, that he procured while 
 in London the letters of Hutchinson which 
 Franklin sent to America; for the letters had 
 been received in Boston before he reached Eng- 
 land. Returning home at the outbreak of the 
 war, he employed himself as a mercantile trader 
 at the South, offering his services in the army 'to 
 the state of North Carolina, which were accepted. 
 He was present at the battle of Camden, adminis- 
 tering to the wounded of his countrymen in the 
 enemy's camp, under the protection of a flag. In 
 1782 he was a member of the legislature of North 
 Carolina, and afterwards of Congress, and in 
 1787 signed the Constitution of the United States. 
 After 1790 he became a resident of New York. 
 His chief literary productions are his anniversary 
 discourse On the Benefit of Civil History, before 
 the New York Historical Society in 1810; his 
 Observations on the Climate in different parts 
 of America, compared with the climate in Corre- 
 sponding parts of the other Continent, and his 
 History of North Carolina, published in 1812. 
 He also wrote a number of medical papers, one 
 
190 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 on the fascination of serpents, in the Medical 
 Repository and American Medical and Philoso- 
 phical Register. He was a contributor to Ca- 
 rey's Museum of several papers on languages and 
 politics. An active promoter of the medical, lite- 
 rary, and philanthropical associations of New 
 York, and of its material interests, especially in 
 his advocacy of the canal policy, he enjoyed the 
 friendship of the excellent society then at its 
 height in New York, the Clintons, Hosacks, 
 Mitchells, and others, till his death in his eighty- 
 fifth year, May 22, 1819. In his personal charac- 
 ter Williamson was a man of strength and inte- 
 grity. No one could approach him with flattery 
 or falsehood. The style of his writing is direct 
 and forcible. His appearance was noticeable, 
 tall, dignified, with strongly marked features. 
 His portrait was painted by Trumbull.* 
 
 SAMUEL PETEES. 
 
 Saio-el Peters, the " Parson Peters" of M'Fin- 
 gal, and the reputed and undoubted author of a 
 History of Connecticut, very generally read, but 
 deservedly much impugned as an authority, be- 
 longed to that one family of Peters which has 
 become so widely spread in the country, and of 
 which, in its first generation in America, the 
 celebrated Hugh Peters was the representative. 
 There were three brothers who came to New 
 England in 1634 to avoid star-chamber persecu- 
 tion, William, Thomas, and Hugh. The last suc- 
 ceeded Roger Williams at Salem, repudiating his 
 alleged heresies, and remained there five years, 
 paying much attention to its civil affairs, his pro- 
 ficiency in which led to his being sent to England 
 to regulate some matters of trade in 16-11. He 
 there became the active parliamentary leader and 
 preacher, and on the restoration was somewhat 
 unnecessarily beheaded, as a return for his political 
 career. His publications were sermons, reforming 
 pamphlets, and poems. His Good Work for a 
 Good Magistrate, in 1651, contained the radical 
 proposition of burning the historical records in 
 the Tower. 
 
 Hugh Peters, during his imprisonment in the 
 Tower, wrote a book of religious advice and con- 
 solation, addressed to his daughter Elizabeth — 
 Mr.Hvgh Peters's Last Legacy to an only Child.f 
 His great nephew, Samuel, says .of it, " it was 
 printed and published in Old and New England, 
 and myriads of experienced Christians have read 
 his legacy with ecstasy and health to their souls. 
 No doubt but the book Will be had in remem- 
 brance in America as long as the works of the 
 Assembly of Divines (at Westminster) and the 
 holy Bible."]: Notwithstanding this prediction it 
 would probably be difficult to procure a copy of 
 the book now. Its spirit may be known by the 
 rules which he sent to his daughter from his 
 prison — 
 
 * Biographical Memoir, by Dr. Hosack. Collections of the 
 New York Historical Society, iii. 
 
 + A Dying Father's Last Legacy to an only Child: or Mr. 
 Hugh Peters's Advice to his Daughter: written by his own 
 hand, during his late imprisonment in the Tower of London; 
 and given her a little before his death. London ; Printed for 
 G. Calvert and T. Brewster. 1660. 
 
 X History of the Kev. Hugh Peters, 77. 
 
 Whosoever would five long and 
 
 Blessedly, let him observe these 
 
 Following Rules, by which 
 
 He shall attain to that 
 
 Which he desireth. 
 
 Thoughts 
 
 
 'Divine, Awful, 
 Godly. 
 
 Talk 
 
 
 Little, Honest, 
 True. 
 
 Words 
 
 
 Profitable, Holy, 
 Charitable. 
 
 Manners 
 
 
 Grave, Courteous, 
 Cheerful. 
 
 Dyet 
 
 
 Temperate, Convenient, 
 Frugal. 
 
 Apparel 
 
 -be* 
 
 Sober, Seat, 
 Comely. 
 
 Will 
 
 
 Constant, Obedient, 
 Ready. 
 
 Sleep 
 
 
 Moderate, Quiet, 
 Seasonable. 
 
 Prayers 
 
 
 Short, Devout, Often, 
 Fervent. 
 
 Recreation 
 
 
 Lawful, Brief, 
 Seldom. 
 
 Memory, 
 
 
 Of Death, Punishment, 
 
 , 
 
 
 Glory. 
 
 by the verses which he wrote for her. 
 
 
 Ml 
 
 WISHES. 
 
 I wish your Lamp and Vessel 
 
 full of oyl 
 Like the Wise Virgins 
 
 (which all fools neglect), 
 And the rich Pearl, 
 
 for which the Merchants toyl, 
 Yea, how to purchase 
 are so circumspect : 
 
 I wish you that White Stone 
 
 With the new Name, 
 Which none can read 
 but who possess the same 
 
 I wish you neither Poverty, 
 
 nor Riches, 
 But Godliness, 
 
 so gainful, with Content; 
 No painted Pomp, 
 
 nor Glory that bewitches ; 
 A blameless Life 
 
 is the best monument : 
 And sucli a Soul 
 
 that soars above the Sky, 
 Well pleased to live, 
 
 but better pleased to dye, 
 
 I wish you such a Heart 
 
 as Mary had, 
 Minding the Main, 
 
 open'd as Lydia's was : 
 . A hand like Dorcas 
 
 who the naked clad ; 
 Feet like Joanna's, 
 
 posting to Christ apace. 
 And above all, 
 
 to live yourself to see 
 Marryed to Him, 
 
 who must your Saviour be, 
 
 The son of the eldest brother, William, settled 
 at Hebron, Connecticut, in 1717, where his fifth 
 son, Samuel, was born Dec. 12, 1735. He was gra- 
 duated at Yale in 1757; travelled the next year to 
 Europe ; abandoned the family Puritanism and 
 
SAMUEL PETERS. 
 
 191 
 
 became a clergyman of the Church of England in 
 1760, when lie returned to Connecticut, marrying 
 a descendant of learned Dr. John Qwen. He had 
 charge of the churches at Hartford and Hebron. 
 In 1774, he was compelled to leave the country 
 
 as a Royalist clergyman. The circumstances of 
 this exit Were characteristic of the times. He was 
 considered by the Whigs who were conducting 
 the Revolution, as an arrant Tory, who was med- 
 dling with and marring the work of Indepen- 
 dence by his communications to his correspon- 
 dents in England. If his humorous, voluble style 
 is to be taken as evidence of his conversational 
 powers, his tongue must also have been an un- 
 welcome scourge of his rebellious townspeople. 
 So a committee of the public paid him a domicilia- 
 ry visit to secure from him a decided declaration 
 of his opinions. Three hundred gathered at his 
 house at Hebron, stated his offences, and hinted at 
 a suit of tar and feathers. It was a committee 
 with power ; and they called for books and pa- 
 pers, demanding copies of the letters which he 
 had forwarded, and of the malignant articles 
 which be had sent to the newspapers. They pro- 
 cured from him a declaration in writing, that he 
 had not " sent any letter to the Bishop of Eon- 
 don or the Venerable Society for the Propagation 
 of the Gospel, relative to the Boston Port Bill, or 
 the Tea affair, or the Controversy between Great 
 Britain and the Colonies, and designed not to, 
 during his natural life, as these controversies 
 were out of his business as a clergyman; also, he 
 had not written to England to any other gentle- 
 man, or designed Company, nor would he do it." 
 He gave them up, also, a copy of Thirteen Re- 
 solves Which he had written for the press, which 
 were found, when they came to be published and 
 read, to be not satisfactory to the public mind. 
 This was in August. In September, he received 
 another visit from a committee, and undertook to 
 defend himself by argument ; but they were there' 
 to act and not to talk, and referred him to the 
 sovereign people in full assembly without. He 
 addressed the latter convocation in an harangue; 
 and in the midst of it a gun was heard to go off 
 in his house, notwithstanding his declaration that 
 he had no serviceable fire-arms. He was allowed 
 to go on, and another paper was proposed to be 
 signed by l>im. He prepared one, and it was not 
 satisfactory. The committee requested his signa- 
 ture to one of their own writing, which he de- 
 clined. To cut short the parley, "the whole body 
 broke into the house by door and windows, and 
 seizing Dr. Peters, carried him off to the meeting- 
 house green, three quarters of a mile away. He 
 was now convinced by this rough logic, ami sign- 
 ed the required document. u During the affair," 
 we are told, " his gown and shirt were torn, one 
 sash of his house was somewhat shattered, a table 
 was turned over, and a punch-bowl and glass were 
 broken."* 
 
 After this the Doctor fled to Boston, on his 
 
 * Sabine's Loyalists, Art. Peters. 
 
 way to England, smarting with the wrongs of 
 the Yankees, and bent on revenge. His design 
 was to accumulate stories of the desperate acts of 
 the people of the state for the government in 
 England, and procure a withdrawal of the Char- 
 ter. This was suspected by his Connecticut 
 friends, and they made sure of it by intercepting 
 his letters. In one of these, dated Boston, ad- 
 dressed to the Rev. Dr. Auchmuty, of New York, 
 he intimates as in prospect, that " the bounds of 
 New York may directly extend to Connecticut 
 River, Boston meet them, and New Hampshire 
 take the Province of Maine, and Rhode Island be 
 swallowed up as Dathan."* 
 
 Doctor Peters did not carry his point of dis- 
 membering Connecticut, but he punished the na- 
 tives almost as effectually by writing a book — his 
 history of the State. t It was published anony- 
 mously, but it was as plainly Peters's as if every 
 page had been subscribed by him, like the extort- 
 ed declarations. Looked at as history, we may 
 say it is unreliable ; but regarded as a squib, 
 which the author almost had the opportunity of 
 writing with quills plucked from his writhing 
 body, and planted there by his over-zealous breth- 
 ren of Hebron, it is vastly enjoyable and may be 
 forgiven. 
 
 The General History of Connecticut is as good, 
 in its way, as Knickerbocker's New York. The 
 full-mouthed, humorous gravity of its style is ir- 
 resistible. Its narrations are independent of time, 
 place, and probability. A sober critic would go 
 mad over an attempt to correct its misstate- 
 ments ; though the good Dr. Dwight thought the 
 subject once of importance enough to do some- 
 thin'g of the kind in his Travels, where be amends 
 the historian's account of the magnificent flight 
 of steps which led up to the church at Green- 
 wich, by stating that they were simply stones of 
 the street placed there to protect visitors from 
 the mud. J 
 
 In the reprint of the work at New Haven, in 
 1829, illustrated by eight very remarkable engra- 
 vings, there is a species of apologetic preface, 
 which would lift the work into the dignity of 
 history, after making liberal allowances for the 
 author's "excited feelings," and particularly ins 
 revenge npon the Trumbull family for " that no- 
 table tetrastic," which was put into the mouth of 
 the hero by the author of M'Fingal : — 
 
 "What warnings had ye of your duty, 
 From our old rev'rend Sam Auchmuty ; 
 From priests of all degrees and metres, 
 To our fag-end man Parson Peters. 
 
 But all this will not do. What are we to think 
 of a sober writer, on the eve of the nineteenth 
 century, publishing such a geographical statement 
 
 * Sabine's Loyalists, 584. 
 
 + A General History of Connecticut: from its First Settle- 
 ment, under George Fenwick, Esq., to its latest period of ami- 
 ty with Great Britain, including a description of the Country, 
 and many curious and interesting Anecdotes ; to which is add- 
 ed an Appendix, wherein new and the true sources of the pre- 
 sent Rebellion in America an' pointed out; together with the 
 particular part taken by the People of Connecticut in its Pro- 
 motion. By a Gentleman of the Province. Plus apud me ra- 
 tio valebit, quam vulgi opinio. — Clc. London, printed for the 
 author. Sold by J. Bew, 1781. 
 
 $ "This is the building pompously exhibited in that mass 
 of folly andfalsehood commonly called Peters's History of Con- 
 necticut."— Dwight's Travels, iii. 405. 
 
192 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of a well known river as that which we place in 
 italics in the following paragraph : — 
 
 The middle river is named Connecticut, after the 
 great Sachem to whom that part of the province 
 through which it runs belonged. This vast river is 
 500 miles long, and four miles wide at its mouth: 
 its channel, or inner banks, in general, half a mile 
 wide. It takes its rise from the White Hills, in the 
 north of New England, where also springs the river 
 Kennebec. Above 500 rivulets, which issue from 
 lakes, ponds, and drowned lands, fall into it; many 
 of them are larger than the Thames at London. In 
 March, when the rain and sun melt the snow and 
 ice, each stream is overcharged, and kindly hastens 
 to this great river, to overflow, fertilize, and preserve 
 its trembling meadows. They lift up enormous 
 cakes of ice, bursting from their frozen beds with 
 threatening intentions of plowing up the frighted 
 earth, and carry them rapidly down the falls, where 
 they are dashed in pieces and rise in mist. Except 
 at these falls, of which there are five, the first sixty 
 miles from its mouth, the river is navigable through- 
 out. In its northern parts are three great bondings, 
 called cohosses, about 100 miles asunder. Two hun- 
 dred miles from the Sound is a narrow of five yards 
 only, formed by two shelving mountains of solid 
 rock, whose tops intercept the clouds. Through 
 this chasm are compelled to pnss all the waters 
 which in the time of the floods bury the northern 
 country. At the upper cohos the river then spreads 
 several miles wide, and for fiv^e or six weeks ships 
 of war might sail over lands, that afterwards pro- 
 duce the greatest crops of hay and grain in all 
 America. People who can bear the sight, the groans, 
 the tremblings, and surly motion of water, trees, 
 and ice, through this awful passage, view with as- 
 tonishmentone of the greatest phenomenons in nature. 
 Here water is consolidated, without frost, by pressure, 
 by swiftness, between the pinching, sturdy rocks, to 
 such a degree of induration, that an iron crow floats 
 smoothly down its current : — here iron, lead, and 
 cork, have one common weight : — here, steady as time, 
 and harder than marble, the stream passes irresisti- 
 ble, if not swift, as lightning : — the electric fire 
 rends trees in pieces with no greater ease, than does 
 this mighty water. The passage is about 400 yards 
 in length, and of a zigzag form, with obtuse cor- 
 ners. 
 
 or how can we accept for anything but a wag the 
 narrator of this marvel at Windham : — 
 
 Windham resembles Rumford, and stands- on 
 Winnomantic river Its meeting-house is elegant, 
 and has a steeple, bell, and clock. Its court-house 
 is scarcely to be looked upon as an ornament. The 
 township forms four parishes, and is ten miles 
 square. 
 
 Strangers are very much terrified at the hideous 
 noise made on summer evenings by the vast number 
 of frogs in the brooks and ponds. There are about 
 thirty different voices among them ; some of which 
 resemble the bellowing of a bull. The owls and 
 whippoorwills complete the rough concert, which 
 may be heard several miles. Persons accustomed 
 to such serenades are not disturbed by them at their 
 proper stations; but one night, in July, 1758, the 
 frogs of an artificial pond, three miles square, and 
 about five from Windham, finding the water dried 
 up, left the place in a body, and marched, or rather 
 hopped towards Winnomantic river. They were 
 under the necessity of taking the road and going 
 through the town, which they entered about mid- 
 night The bull frogs were the leaders, and the 
 pipers followed without number. They filled a road 
 
 40 yards wide for four miles in length, and were for 
 several hours in passing through the town, unusual- 
 ly clamorous. .The inhabitants were equally per- 
 plexed and frightened ; some expected to find an 
 army of French and Indians ; others feared an 
 earthquake, and dissolution of nature. The con- 
 sternation was universal. Old and young, male and 
 female, fled naked from their beds with worse shriek- 
 ings than those of the frogs. The event was fatal 
 to several women. The men, after a flight of half 
 a mile, in which they met with many broken shins, 
 finding no enemies in pursuit of them, made a halt, 
 and summoned resolution enough to venture back 
 to their wives and children ; when they distinctly 
 heard from the enemy's camp these words, Wight, 
 Hilderkcn, JJier, Tete. ■ This last they thought mgarrt 
 treaty ; and plucking up courage, they sent a trium- 
 virate to capitulate with the supposed French and 
 Indians. These three men approached in their 
 shirts, and begged to speak with the general ; but 
 it being dark, and no answer given, they were sore- 
 ly agitated for some time betwixt hope and fear ; at 
 length, however, they discovered that the dreaded 
 inimical army was an army of thirsty frogs, going 
 to the river for a little water. 
 
 Such an incursion was never known before nor 
 since; and yet the people of Windham have been 
 ridiculed for their timidity on this occasion. I ve- 
 rily believe an army under the Duke of Marlbo- 
 rough, would, under like circumstances, have acted 
 no better than they did. 
 
 His story of Old Put and the Wolf too has some 
 variations from acknowledged versions : — 
 
 AVe read that David slew a lion and a bear, and 
 afterwards that Saul trusted him to fight Goliath. 
 In Pomfret lives Col. Israel Putnam, who slew a she- 
 bear and her two quhs with a billet of wood. The 
 bravery of this action brought him into public no- 
 tice: and, it seems, he is one of fortune's favorites. 
 The story is as follows : — In 1754, a large she-bear 
 came in the night from her den, which was three 
 miles from Mr. Putnam's house, and took a sow out 
 of a pen of his. The sow, by her squeaking, awoke 
 Mr. Putnam, who hastily ran to the poor creature's 
 relief; but before he could reach the pen, the bear 
 had left it, and was trotting away with the sow in 
 her mouth. Mr. Putnam took up a billet of wood, 
 and followed the screamings of the sow, till he 
 came to the foot of the mountain, where the den 
 was. Dauntless he entered the horrid cavern; and, 
 after walking and crawling upon his hands and knees 
 for fifty yards, came to a roomy cell, where the bear 
 met him with great fury. He saw nothing but the 
 fire of her eyes ; but that was sufficient for our 
 hero: he accordingly directed his blow, which at 
 once proved fatal to the bear and saved his own life 
 at a most critical moment. Putnam then discovered 
 and killed two cubs ; and having, though in Egyp- 
 tian darkness, dragged them and the dead sow, one 
 by one, out of the cave, he went home, and calmly 
 reported to his family what had happened. The 
 neighbors declared, on viewing the place by torch." 
 light, that his exploit exceeded those of Sampson or 
 David. Soon afterwards the General Assembly ap- 
 pointed Mr. Putnam a Lieutenant in the Army 
 marching against Canada. His courage and good 
 conduct raised him to the rank of Captain the next 
 year. The third year he was made a Major; and 
 the fourth a Colonel. Putnam and Rogers were the 
 heroes through the last war. Putnam was so hardy, 
 at a time when the Indians had killed all his men, 
 and completely hemmed him in upon a river, as to 
 leap into a stream, which in a minute carried him 
 
SAMUEL PETERS. 
 
 193 
 
 down a stupendous fall, where no tree could pass 
 without being torn in picees. The Indians reasona- 
 bly concduded that Putnam, their terrible enemy, was 
 dead, and made their report accordingly at Ticon- 
 deroga ; but soon after, a scouting party found 
 their sad mistake in a bloody rencontre. Some few 
 that got off declared that Putnam was yet living, 
 and that he was the first son of Hobbamockow, 
 and therefore immortal. However, at length the 
 Indians took this terrible warrior prisoner, and tied 
 him to a tree; where he hung three days without 
 food.or drink. They did not attempt to kill him for 
 fear of offending Hobbamockow ; but they sold him 
 to the French at a great price. The name of Put- 
 nam was more alarming to the Indians than cannon, 
 and they never would fight him after his escape 
 from the falls. He was afterwards redeemed by 
 the English. 
 
 The sketch of the manners of the country is 
 amusing. Passing over some graver topics we 
 light upon this picture of a courtship. 
 
 An English gentleman, during a short residence in 
 a certain town, had the good luck to receive some 
 civilities from the Deacon, Minister, and Justice. 
 The Deacon had a daughter, without beauty, but 
 Bensible and rich. The Briton (for that was the 
 name he went by), having received a present from 
 the West Indies, of some pine-apples and sweet- 
 meats, sent his servant with part of it to the Dea- 
 con's daughter, to whom at the same time he ad- 
 dressed a complimentary note, begging Miss would 
 accept the pine-apples and sweetmeats, and wishing 
 he might be able to make her a better present. 
 Miss, on reading the note, was greatly alarmed, and 
 exclaimed " Mama! Mama! Mr. Briton has sent me 
 a love-letter." The mother read the note, and 
 shewed it to the Deacon; and, after due considera- 
 tion, both agreed in pronouncing it a love-letter. 
 The lawyer, justice, and parson, were then sent for, 
 who in council weighed every word in the note, to- 
 gether with the golden temptation which the lady 
 possessed, and were of opinion that the writer was 
 in love, and that the note was a love-letter, but 
 worded so carefully that the law could not punish 
 Briton for attempting to court Miss without obtain- 
 ing her parents' consent. The parson wrung his 
 hands, rolled up his eyes, shrugged up his shoulders, 
 groaned oat his hypocritical grief, and said, "Dea- 
 con, I hope you do not blame me for having been 
 the innocent cause of your knowing this imprudent 
 and haughty Briton. There is something very odd 
 in all the Britons ; but I thought this man had some 
 prudence and modesty : however, Deacon," putting 
 his hand on his breast, and bowing with a pale, de- 
 ceitful face, " I shall in future shun all the Britons, 
 for they are all strange creatures." The lawyer and 
 justice made their apologies, and were sorry that 
 Briton did not consider the quality of the Deacon's 
 daughter before he wrote his letter. Miss, all ap- 
 prehension and tears, at finding no punishment 
 could reach Briton in the course of law, cried out 
 to her counsellors, " Who is Briton? Am I not the 
 Deacon's daughter? What have I done that he 
 should take such liberties with me? Is lie not the 
 natural son of some priest or foundling? Ought he 
 not to be exposed for his assurance to the Deacon's 
 daughter ?" 
 
 Her words took effect. The council voted that 
 they would show their contempt of Briton by 
 neglecting him for the time to come. On his return 
 home, the parson, after many and great signs of sur- 
 
 f)rise, informed his wife of the awful event which 
 lad happened by the imprudence of Briton. She 
 vol.. I. — 13 
 
 soon communicated the secret to her sister gossips, 
 
 Erudently cautioning them not to report it as from 
 er. But, not content with that, the parson himself 
 went among all his acquaintance, shaking his head 
 and saying " Sirs ! have } T ou heard of the strange 
 conduct of friend Briton ? — how he wrote a love- 
 letter, and sent it with some pine-apples to the Dea- 
 con's daughter? My wife and I had a great friend- 
 ship for Briton, but cannot see him any more." 
 Thus the afflicted parson told this important tale to 
 every one except Briton, who, from his ignorance 
 of the story, conducted himself in his usual manner 
 towards his supposed friends, though he observed 
 they had a show of haste and business whenever he 
 met with any of them. Happily for Briton, he de- 
 pended not on the Deacon, Minister, or Colony, for 
 his support. At last, a Scotchman heard of the evil 
 tale, and generously told Briton of it, adding that 
 the parson was supposed to bo in a deep decline 
 merely from the grief and fatigue he had endured 
 in spreading it. Briton thanked the Scotchman, and 
 called on the friendly parson to know the particu- 
 lars of his offence. The parson, with sighs, bows, 
 and solemn smirkings, answered, " Sir, the fact is, 
 you wrote a love-letter to the Deacon's daughter, 
 without asking her parents' consent, which has given 
 great offence to that lady, and to all her acquain- 
 tance, of whom I and my wife have the honor to be 
 reckoned a part." Briton kept his temper. " So 
 then," said he, " I have offended you by my insolent 
 note to the Deacon's daughter! I hope my sin is 
 venial. Pray, Sir, have you seen my note?" "Yes," 
 replied the parson, "to my grief and sorrow: I 
 could not have thought you so imprudent, had I not 
 seen and found the note to be your own writing." 
 "How long have you known of this offence?" 
 " Some months." " Why, Sir, did you not seasona- 
 bly admonish me for this crime ?" " I was so hurt 
 and grieved, and my friendship so great, I could 
 not bear to tell you." Mr. Briton then told the par- 
 son, that his friendship was so fine and subtle, it was 
 invisible to an English eye; and that Gospel minis- 
 ters in England did not prove their friendship by 
 telling calumnious stories to everybody but the per- 
 son concerned. " But I suppose," added he, " this 
 is genuine New England friendship, and merits 
 thanks more than a supple-jack !" The parson, with 
 a leering look, sneaked away towards his wife; and 
 Briton left the colony without any civil or ecclesias- 
 tical punishment, telling the Scotchman that the 
 Deacon's daughter had money, and the parson faith 
 without eyes, or he should never have been accused 
 of making love to one who was naturally so great 
 an enemy to Cupid. Of such or worse sort being 
 the reception foreign settlers may expect from the 
 inhabitants of Connecticut, it is no wonder that few 
 or none choose to venture among them. 
 
 As a satirical and humorous writer Peters cer- 
 tainly had his merits; and with all its nonsense 
 there is some " sharpened sly inspection" in his 
 pages. 
 
 When the war was ended, Peters was chosen in 
 I'TO-i, bishop, by a convention of the Protestant 
 Episcopal Church in Vermont, and accepted tho 
 office ; but, on the ground that the act of Parlia- 
 ment limited the number of bishops for America, 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury declined his con- 
 secration. Dr. Peters had gone so far, not only as 
 to accept tho proffered call, but to write an 
 Episcopal letter, his pen armed with all the graces 
 and dignity of St. Paul. He addresses his epistle 
 "to the churches of Christ spread abroad in tho 
 State of Vermont, mercy, peace, and love be 
 
194 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 multiplied ;" and goes on with an apostolic unc- 
 tion, the humor of which is irresistible when we 
 consider Saint Paul, Dr. Peters, and that the 
 writer was no bishop after all. He was only 
 trying on the mitre. 
 
 " Until I come," writes he, parodying the Apostle, 
 "give attendance to reading, prayer, and faith. 
 When present with you, by the grace of God, I will 
 lead you through the wilderness of life, up to a 
 world that knows no sorrow. I will guide you with 
 mine eye, and feed your lambs and sheep, with bread 
 more durable than the everlasting hills. While 
 absent from you in body I am present with you in 
 mind, thanking God always in every prayer of mine, 
 and making request with joy for your fellowship in 
 the gospel of his Son; that you may be of good 
 cheer, and overcome a world yielding no content, 
 the only wealth of man ; and that you may know 
 how to be abased, and how to abound ; everywhere 
 and in all things to be instructed to obey the laws 
 of Christ. The spirit which heals all our infirmities, 
 no doubt led you to glorify God in me, when you 
 appointed the least of all saints to fill the highest 
 Btation in the Church of Jesus Christ ; duty and 
 inclination (with feeble blood flowing in my veins) 
 inspire my soul to seek and do you good in that 
 6acred office to which you have invited me ; being 
 confident that j"ou will receive me with nil gladness, 
 and hold me in reputation for the work of Christ, 
 which brought me near to death, and shall finally 
 make you my glory and my joy. * * Should my 
 insufficiency in spiritual and scientific knowledge 
 appear too manifest among you, my zeal and labors 
 in the vineyard of the Lord shall, I trust, be your 
 pride and bonst: in this hope, and resting on the 
 candor, order, morality, learning, piety, and religion 
 of those over whom I am well chosen to preside, I 
 shall with some degree of confidence undertake the 
 charge, and claim the wisdom of the wise to enlighten 
 my understanding, and the charity and prayers of 
 all to remove any wants, and to lessen my manifold 
 imperfections. * * Salute one another with faith 
 and love."* 
 
 Peters seems to have resided in England till 
 1805, when he returned to America. He pub- 
 lished in New York, in 1807, his History of the 
 Rev. Hugh Petersj a book which is set forth as a 
 vindication of the character of that parliamentary 
 divine. The appendix contains some interesting 
 notices of his own, and of some of the royalist 
 families in America. The calculation of the rapid 
 growth of the Peters family in the country is 
 curious. As a specimen of his waggery and skill 
 in telling a story we may quote his account of an 
 interview between Ward, the simple cobbler of 
 Agawam, and Cotton Mather. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Ward, being an eminent Puritan in 
 England, disliked the spiritual and star-chamber 
 courts under the control of tiie hierarchy of Eng- 
 land ; he fled to New England, and became minister 
 of Agawam, an Indian village, making the west 
 
 * The Churchman's Magazine, N. T. June, 1S^7. Art. Sup- 
 plement to American Episcopate. 
 
 + A History of the Eev. Hugh Peters. A.M.. Avch-Intemlant 
 of the Prerogative Court of Doctors' Commons ; member of tbo 
 celebrated Assembly of Divines at the Savoy, Westminster; 
 and Piincipal Chaplain to the Lord Protector and to the Lords 
 and House of Commons, from the yc3r 1640 to 1660. With an 
 Appendix. By the Eev. Samuel Peters, LL.D. "Let us 
 praise famous men, and our fathers who begat us: the Lord 
 hath wrought great glorv by them." — Eccles. xliv. New 
 York: Printed for tbo Author. 1S07. 
 
 part of Springfield, in the State of Massachusetts. 
 He was an exact scholar, a meek, benevolent, and 
 charitable Christian. He used the Indians with 
 justice and tenderness, and established one of the 
 best towns on Connecticut river. He was free from 
 hypocrisy, and stiff bigotry, which then domineered 
 in New England, and which yet remain at Hadley 
 and Northampton, not much to the credit of morality 
 and piety. Mr. Ward had a large share of Hudi- 
 brastic wit, and much pleasantry with his gravity. 
 This appears in his history of Agawam, wherein 
 he satirized the prevailing superstition of tlie times; 
 which did more good than Dr. Mather's book, 
 entitled, Stilts for JJnarfs in Christ toWade through 
 the Mud, or his Magnalia, with his otlier twenty- 
 four books. His posterity are many, and have dona 
 their part in the pulpit, in the field, and at the bar, 
 in the six States of Kew England, and generally 
 have followed the charitable temper of their vene- 
 rable ancestor, and seldom fail to hish the avarice of 
 the clergy, who are often recommending charity 
 and hospitality to the needy stranger, and at the 
 same time never follow their own advice to others. 
 Mr. Ward, of Agawam, has left his children an 
 example worthy of imitation. The story is thus 
 related : 
 
 Dr. Mather, of Boston, was constantly exhorting 
 his hearers to entertain strangers, for by doing so 
 they might entertain angels. But it was remarked, 
 that Dr. Mather never entertained strangers, nor 
 gave any relief to beggars. This report l cached 
 Mr. Ward, of Agawam, an intimate chum of, the 
 Doctor while at the university. Ward said he 
 hoped it was not true ; but resolved to discover the 
 truth ; therefore he set off for Boston on foot, one 
 hundred and twenty miles, aid arrived at the door 
 of Dr. Mather on Saturday evening, when most 
 people were in bed, and knocked at the door, which 
 the maid opened. Ward said, " I come from the 
 country, to hear good Dr. Mather preach to-morrow. 
 I am hungry, and thirsty, without money, and I 
 beg the good Doctor will give me relief and a bed 
 in his house until the Sabbath is over." The maid 
 replied, " The Doctor is in his study, it is Saturday 
 night, the Sabbath is begun, we have no bed, or 
 victuals, for ragged beggars," and shut the door 
 upon him. Mr. Ward again made use of the 
 knocker: the maid went to the Doctor, and told 
 him there was a sturdy beggar beating the door, 
 wdio insisted on coming in and stayii g there over 
 the Sabbath. The Doctor said, " Tell him to depart, 
 or a constable shall conduct him to a prison." The 
 maid obeyed the Doctor's order; and Mr. Ward said, 
 " I will not leave the door until I have seen the 
 Doctor." This tumult roused the Doctor, with his 
 black velvet cap on his head, and he came to the 
 door and opened it, and said, "Thou country villain, 
 how dare you knock thus at my door after the Sab- 
 bath has begun ?" Mr. Ward replied, " Sir, I am a 
 stranger, hungry and moneyless; pray take me in, 
 until the holy Sabbath is past, so that I may hear 
 one of your godly sermons." The Doctor said, 
 "Vagrant, go thy way, and trouble me no more; I 
 will not break the Sabbath by giving thee food and 
 lodging," and then shut the door. The Doctor had 
 scarcely reached his stud}', when Ward began to 
 exercise the knocker with continued violence. The 
 Doctor, not highly pleased, returned to the door and 
 said, " Wretched being, why dost thou trouble me 
 thus ? what wilt thou have s" Ward replied, " En- 
 tertainment in your house until Monday morning." 
 The Doctor said, "You shall not, therefore go thy 
 way." Mr. Ward replied, " Sir, as that point is 
 settled, pray give me a sixpence or a shilling, 
 and a piece of bread and meat" The Doctor 
 
THOMAS GODFREY. 
 
 195 
 
 said, " I will give thee neither," and again shut 
 the door. And then Mr. Ward thundered with the 
 knocker of the door, and the Doctor returned in 
 great, wrath and said, " Thou art mad, or possessed 
 with an evil spirit: what wilt thou have now?" 
 Mr. Ward replied, " Since you, sir, will not give lodg- 
 ings, nor money, nor food, nor drink to me, I pray 
 for your advice; will you direct me to a stew!" 
 The'Doctor cried out, " Vagrant of all vagrants ! the 
 curse of God will fall on thee ; thou art one of the 
 non-elects. Dost thou, villain, suppose that I am 
 acquainted with bad houses? What dost thou want 
 at a stew?" Mr. Ward replied, "I am hungry, 
 weary, thirsty, moneyless, and almost naked ; and 
 Solomon, the wisest king the Jews ever had, tells 
 me and you, that a whore will bring a man to a 
 morsel of bread at the last." Now Dr. Mather awoke 
 from his reverend dream, and cried, " Tu es Ward- 
 onus vel Diabolus." Mr. Ward laughed, and the 
 Doctor took him in and gave him all he wanted ; and 
 Mr. Ward preached for the Doctor next day, both 
 morning and evening This event had its due effect 
 on the Doctor ever after, and he kept the Shnna- 
 mite's chamber, and became hospitable and charita- 
 ble to all in want. 
 
 ' It corrected the Doctor's temper to such a degree, 
 that six months after, lie ceased to pray more 
 against the pope and conclave of Rome, and sup- 
 plied the vacuum, by praying for the downfall of 
 the red drag mi at Morocco, Egypt, and Arabia, on 
 the east side of the Red Sea, even at Mecca and 
 Medina ; words which helped the sand to pass 
 through the hour-glass, the orthodox length of a 
 prayer. 
 
 It is, perhaps, not the best manners to apply 
 chronology to an anecdote, but if we look at the 
 facts of this case, it is rather unfortunate for 
 good Dr. Peters that Ward died ten years before 
 Cotton Mather, whom the story was probably 
 intended to lit, was born; and if, to give the 
 joke another chance, we carry it back to In- 
 crease Mather, Ward left New England when that 
 quaint divine was but eight years old, and died 
 tlirej years before that elder Mather graduated. 
 If we were disposed still further to go into par- 
 ticulars, we might remark that Ward's Agawam 
 was not on the Connecticut; that he did not write 
 a history ol that place; that the cobbler was not 
 remarkably free from bigotry ; and that Dr. 
 Mather's "Stilts for Dwarfs" is not to be found 
 mentioned in any respectable bibliographical work. 
 
 Dr. Peters made a journey to the We,3t, to the 
 Falls of St. Anthony, in prosecution of some 
 land claims, in 1817. lie died at New York, 
 April 11), 1836, at the venerable age of 90. 
 
 In conclusion, if he may be allowed to be his 
 own eulogist, "he is reputed," says he of him- 
 self, "to have the faculties of his uncle Hugh, the 
 zeal and courage of his grand-parent, General 
 Thomas Harrison, mixed with the benevolence 
 that characterized his great-grand-parent, William 
 .Peters, Esq., of 1634.'' 
 
 THOMAS GODFREY. 
 Thomas Godfrey was born in the city of Philadel- 
 phia, in the year 1736. His father, a glazier by 
 trade, was an accomplished mathematician, and 
 the inventor of the quadrant,* commonly known 
 
 * Barlow, in his notices of the men of science in America 
 in the eighth book of the Columbiad, pays this tribute to God- 
 frey : — 
 
 as Hadley's Quadrant. He died a few years after 
 the birth of his son, who, after receiving " a com- 
 mon education in his mother tongue," was ap- 
 prenticed to a watch-maker by his relatives. The 
 pursuit was one contrary to his inclinations, 
 which were bent on the study of painting, but he 
 remained at the trade until 1758, when he ob- 
 tained a lieutenant's commission in the Pennsyl- 
 vania forces raised in that year for the expedition 
 
 5^>^y^- 
 
 against Fort Du Quesne. On the disbanding of 
 the troops he removed to Carolina, to accept a 
 situation as a factor, which had been offered to 
 him. Here he remained three years, during 
 which he wrote his tragedy of The Prince of Par- 
 thia. He sent the manuscript on to a friend in 
 Philadelphia, to be offered to the American com- 
 pany performing in that city in 1759, but it was 
 never produced. On the death of bis employer 
 he returned to his native city, and, no opening 
 offering there, sailed as a supercargo to the 
 island of New Providence, returning from thence 
 to North Carolina, where a few weeks after his 
 arrival, by exposure to the sun on horseback, an 
 exercise to which he was unaccustomed, lie con- 
 tracted a fever which put an end to his life after 
 a week's illness, on the third of August, 1763. 
 
 Godfrey, in addition to his tragedy, wrote a 
 poem of five hundred lines, entitled, The Court 
 of Fancy, modelled on Chaucer's House of Fame, 
 a number of short poems on subjects of the day, 
 a few pastorals in the style then in vogue, and a 
 modernized version of a portion of Chaucer's 
 Assembly of Fowles. Most of these appeared 
 during his lifetime in the American Magazine, 
 published in Philadelphia, from which a portion 
 were copied with commendatory remarks in the 
 London Monthly Review. His poetical writings 
 were published in Philadelphia in 1767, with a 
 biographical preface by N. Evans, in which he 
 " bespeaks the candour of the public in behalf of 
 the collection, as the first of the kind which the 
 Province has produced." The volume also con- 
 tains an anonymous critical analysis of the poems, 
 written by Dr. William Smith.* The whole 
 work forms a quarto volume of 22-i pages. 
 
 The Prince of Parthia was the first dramatic 
 work written in America. It possesses much 
 merit, with many marks of hasty composition, 
 and want of mental maturity. The plot is drawn 
 from an ancient story, and is well developed, 
 though the fifth act presents the usual excess of 
 bloodshed common to tragedies by youthful 
 authors. The opening scene, descriptive of the 
 triumphant return of the youthful hero, Arsaces, 
 from a successful war, is one of the best in the 
 play, but shows, like many subsequent pas- 
 
 To snide the sailor in his wandering way, 
 See 'Godfrey's glass reverse the beams of day. 
 His lifted quadrant to the eye displays 
 From adverse skies the counteracting rays; 
 And marks, as devious sails bewilder'd roll, 
 Each nice gradation from the steadfast pole. 
 
 Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia, supported his claims to 
 the invention. 
 
 * Fisher's Early Poets of Fa. 
 
196 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 sages, that the youCg dramatist had read Shake- 
 speare. 
 
 FROM THE PRINCE 07 PAETHIA. 
 
 Glad Ctes'phon 
 Pouts forth her numbers, like a rolling deluge, 
 To meet the blooming Hero ; all tlie ways, 
 On either side, as far as sight can stretch. 
 Are lin'd with crowds, and on the lofty walla 
 Innumerable multitudes are rang'd. 
 On ev'ry countenance impatience sate 
 With roving eye, before the train appear'd. 
 But when they saw the Darling of the Fates, 
 They rent the air witli loud repeated shouts ; 
 The mother show'd hini to her infant son, 
 And taught his lisping tongue to name Arsaces : 
 E'en aged sires, whose sounds are scarcely heard, 
 By feeble strength supported, toss their caps. 
 And gave their murmur to the general voice. 
 
 Gotar.es. The spacious streets, which lead up to the 
 temple, 
 Are strew'd witli flow'rs ; each, with frantic joy, 
 His garland forms, and throws it in the way. 
 What pleasure, Phraates, must swell his bosom, 
 To see the prostrate nation all around him, 
 And know he's nuide them happy ! to hear them 
 Tease the gods, to shower their blessings on him! 
 Happy Arsaces ! fain I'd imitate 
 Thy matchless worth, and be a shining joy 1 
 
 The following lines are happily expressed : — 
 
 Vardancs. Ileav'ns ! what a night is this I 
 Lysias. 'Tis filled with terror. 
 
 Vardunes. Terror indeed! it 6eems as sick'ning 
 Nature 
 Had given her order up to gen'ral ruin ; 
 The heavens appear as one continu'd flame, 
 Earth with her terror shakes, dim night retires, 
 And the red lightning gives a dreadful day, 
 While in the thunder's voice each sound is lost; 
 Fear sinks the panting heart in ev'ry bosom, 
 E'en the pale dead, affrighted at the horror, 
 As though unsafe, start from their marble goals, 
 And howling through the streets are seeking shelter. 
 
 Fain would I cast this tiresome being off, 
 Like an old garment worn to wretchedness. 
 
 How sweet the eloquence of dying men ! 
 Hence poets feigned the music of the Swan, 
 When death upon her lays his icy hand, 
 She melts away in melancholy strains. 
 
 "With a license to be matched nowhere out of 
 Thomas Ileywood and a few other early English 
 dramatists, he has introduced, amidst his Persian 
 scenes, a song to Phillis. 
 
 Among his miscellanies is what may he called 
 a patriotic version of the first Psalm. Its open- 
 ing stanza is — 
 
 Blest is the man who never lent 
 To bold, designing men his ear, 
 
 Who, on his country's good intent, 
 From bribing offices is clear. 
 
 He also wrote A Pastoral to the Memory of 
 General Wolfe, and an ambitious poem on Vic- 
 tory, which contains some forcible imagery. 
 
 P0E8T — FKOM THE COURT OF FANCY. 
 
 Sweet Poesy was seen their steps behind, 
 With golden tresses sporting in the wind ; 
 
 In careless plaits did her bright garments flow, 
 And nodding laurels wav'd around her brow ; 
 Sweetly she struck the string, and sweetly sung. 
 The attentive tribe on the soft accents hung. 
 'Tis her's to sing who great in arms excel, 
 Who bravely conquer'd or who glorious fell ; 
 Heroes in verse still gain a deathless name, 
 And ceaseless ages their renown proclaim. 
 Oft to philosophy she lends her aid, 
 And treads the sage's solitary shade ; 
 Pier great first task is nobly to inspire 
 Th' immortal soul with virtue's sacred fire. 
 
 Young Thyrsis with sighs often tells me his tale, 
 
 And artfully strives o'er my heart to prevail, 
 
 He sings me love-songs as we trace through the 
 
 grove, 
 And on each fair poplar hangs sonnets of love. 
 Though I often smile on him to soften his pain, 
 (For wit I would have to embellish my train,) 
 I still put him off, for I have him so fast, 
 I know he with joy will accept me at last 
 
 Among the gay tribe that still flatter m}' pride, 
 There's Cloddy is handsome, and wealthy beside ; 
 With such a gay partner more joys I can prove 
 Than to live in a cottage with Thyrsis on love. 
 Though the shepherd is gentle, yet blame me who 
 
 can, 
 Since wealth and not manners, 'tis now makes the 
 
 man. 
 But should I fail here, and my hopes be all past, 
 Fond Thyrsis, I know, will accept me at last. 
 
 Thus Delia enliven'd the grove with her strain, 
 When Thyrsis the shepherd came over the plain ; 
 Bright Chloris he led, whom he'd just made his bride, 
 Joy shone in their eyes, as they walk'd side by side; 
 She scorn'd each low cunning, nor wish'd to deceive, 
 But all her delight was sweet pleasure to give. 
 In wedlock she chose to tie the swain fast, 
 For shepherds will change if put off to the last. 
 
 A DITIIYRAMBIC ON WINK. 
 
 Come ! let Mirth our hours employ, 
 
 The jolly God inspires; 
 
 The rosy juice our bosom fires, 
 
 And tunes our souls to joy. 
 
 See, great Bacchus now descending, 
 
 Gay, with blushing honours crown'd ; 
 
 Sprightly Mirth and Love attending, 
 
 Around him wait. 
 
 In smiling state — 
 
 Let Echo resound 
 
 Let Echo resound 
 
 The joyful news all around. 
 
 Fond Mortals come, if love perplex, 
 
 In wine relief you'll find ; 
 
 Who'd whine for woman's giddy sex 
 
 More fickle than the wind? 
 
 If beauty's bloom thy fancy warms, 
 
 Here see her shine, 
 
 Cloth'd in superior charms; 
 
 More lovely than the blushing morn. 
 
 When first the op'ning day 
 
 Bedecks the thorn, 
 
 And makes the meadows gay. 
 
 Here see her in her crystal shrine; 
 
 See and adore ; confess her all divine, 
 
 The Queen of Love and Joy 
 
 Heed not thy Chloe's scorn — 
 
THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 19T 
 
 This sparkling glass, 
 With winning grace, 
 Shall ever meet thy fond embrace, 
 And never, never, never cloy, 
 No never, never cloy. 
 
 Here, Poet, see, Castalia's spring- 
 Come, give me a bumper, I'll mount to the skies, 
 Another, another — 'Tis done! I arise; 
 
 On fancy's wing, 
 
 I mount, I sing, 
 
 And now, sublime, 
 Parnassus' lofty top I climb — 
 But hark ! what sounds are these I hear, 
 Soft as the dream of her in love, 
 Or zephyrs whisp'ring thro' the grove f 
 And now, more solemn far than fun'ral woe, 
 The heavy numbers flow! 
 
 And now again, 
 
 The varied strain, 
 Grown louder and bolder, strikes quick on the ear, 
 And thrills through every vein. 
 
 Tis Pindar's song! 
 
 His softer notes the fanning gales 
 
 Waft across the spicy vales, 
 
 While, thro' the air, 
 
 Loud whirlwinds bear 
 The harsher notes along. 
 
 Inspir'd by wine, 
 He leaves the lazy crowd below, 
 Who never dar'd to peep abroad, 
 And, mounting to his native sky, 
 For ever there shall shine. 
 
 No more I'll plod 
 
 The beaten road ; 
 Like him inspir'd, like him I'll mount on high; 
 
 Like his my strain shall flow. 
 
 Haste, ye mortals ! leave your sorrow; 
 Let pleasure crown to-day — to-morrow 
 
 Yield to fate. 
 Join the universal chorus, 
 
 Bacchus reigns 
 Ever great ; 
 
 Bacchus reigns 
 
 Ever glorious — 
 
 Hark ! the joyful groves rebound, 
 
 Sporting breezes catch the sound. 
 
 And tell to hill and dale around — 
 
 " Bacchus reigns" — 
 
 While far away, 
 The busy echoes die away. — * 
 
 THOMAS PAINE. 
 The literary merits of Paine, associated with 
 his services to the American cause during the 
 Revolution, well entitle him to a place in this 
 collection. The grossness of his pen in his attacks 
 on the Christian religion, and the miserable last 
 years of his life as painted by no friendly biogra- 
 pher, have thrown into the shade both his patri- 
 otism and the merits of his style, in those days 
 when he came to America, and in clear trumpet 
 
 * As our Poet appears so warm on his subject it may not be 
 amiss to remark here, that ha never drank any icint, and that 
 his Immpers are all ideal, which may serve, perhaps, as a refu- 
 tation of that noted ada^e, that a water drinker can never be 
 a good Dithyrarabic Poet. 
 
 tones sounded the notes of resistance to oppres- 
 sion, and faith in the success of the armies of 
 Washington. In this mixed world of good and 
 evil, we must learn to separate virtues and vices, 
 and "pick our good from out much ill." 
 
 ■r 
 
 Thomas Paine was born of Quaker parentage, 
 the son of a stay-maker, at Thetford, in the 
 county of Norfolk, England, January 29, 1736. 
 He received a grammar-school education in his 
 native town, and early developed a taste for 
 poetry, which his parents discouraged, confining 
 him at the age of thirteen, for the next five years, 
 to his father's uninteresting and laborious calling. 
 In his twentieth year, young Paine went to Lon- 
 don, where he worked at his trade, relieving its 
 monotony by a cruise in a privateer. In 1758 
 he is stay-maker again at Dover, and in 1759, in 
 the same occupation at Sandwich, where he mar- 
 ried the daughter of an exciseman, who died the 
 following year. The occupation of his father-in- 
 law opened a new prospect for him, and he aban- 
 doned his trade for an office in the excise, which 
 he attained after some preliminary training in his 
 home at Thetfi >rd, at the age of twenty-five. His 
 business of exciseman was varied by employment 
 as teacher in two London academies, a position 
 which enabled him to acquire some philosophical 
 knowledge from the lectures delivered in the 
 metropolis. In 1768 he became established at 
 Lewes, in Sussex, as exciseman, where he married 
 the daughter of a grocer and tobacconist recently 
 deceased, to whose trade he succeeded. He be- 
 longed to a club of the place, where he maintained 
 his stiff Whig opinions with pertinacity and ele- 
 gance of expression. He wrote at Lewes his ode 
 on the Death of General Wolfe, which was pub- 
 lished in the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 His business as a grocer seems to have led him 
 into some unwarrantable smuggling practices, for 
 which he was dismissed the service in 1774, 
 when he went to London as an adventurer, 
 having previously parted with his wife by mutual 
 
19S 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 agreement. lie was fortunate in procuring a 
 letter to Benjamin Franklin from a commissioner 
 of the excise, who had been impressed with the 
 ability with which Paine had urged an increase 
 of salary for the officers of that body, in a pam- 
 phlet which he had drawn up in their behalf. 
 Franklin advised him to go to America, whither 
 he set off immediately, reaching Philadelphia in 
 the beginning of the year 1775, on the eve of the 
 actual outbreak of the Bevolution. He was at 
 once employed by Aitken,* a bookseller of that 
 city, with a salary of £25 currency a year, as 
 editor of the Peniuyhauian Magazine, for which 
 he wrote the introduction, a felicitous sentence 
 of which has been noticed by his biographers. 
 Alluding to the season, January, and the quite as 
 chilling nature of such enterprises in those times, 
 he says : " Thus encompassed with difficulties, 
 this first number of the Pennsylvanian Magazine 
 entreats a favorable reception; of which we shall 
 only say, that like the early snowdrop it comes 
 forth in a barren season, and contents itself with 
 foretelling the reader that choicer flowers are pre- 
 paring to appear." Dr. Eush, who was attracted 
 by his clever conduct of the Magazine,! formed 
 his acquaintance in Aitken's bookstore, and sug- 
 gested to him the preparation of a popular book 
 to meet the objections to separation from the 
 mother country. This was the origin of the 
 famous pamphlet Common Sensc.\ Paine thought 
 of calling it "Plain Truth," when Eush suggested 
 the title which it bears. 
 
 Its influence upon the American cause was very 
 great. Eush says it was published " with an 
 effect which has been rarely produced by types 
 and paper in any age or country." " 1 think 
 this pamphlet," says Ashbel Green, of Princeton, 
 in his autobiography, "had a greater run than 
 any other ever published in our country. It was 
 printed anonymously, and it was a considerable 
 time before its author was known or suspected. 
 In the meantime large editions were frequently 
 issued; and in newspapers, at taverns, and at al- 
 most every place of public resort, it wus adver- 
 tised, and very generally in these words : ' Com- 
 mon Sense, for eighteen-pence.' I lately looked 
 
 * Robert Aitken was a Scotchman who came to Philadel- 
 
 fthia in 17G9. and wafi a bookseller and printer. In the Revo- 
 ntion he sided -with the American interest, and narrowly 
 escaped a residence in the prison ships of New York. Ho 
 published the Pennsylvania Magazine, or American Monthly 
 Museum, from .Tan. 1775, to June 1776. It had Francis Hop- 
 kinson and Witherspoon for contributors. Aitken died in 
 ISf 2, at the age of sixty-eight. — Thomas's Hist, of Printing, 
 ii. 76. 
 
 t The ode on Wolfe and some spirited Reflections on Lord 
 Clive, from his pen, printed in the Magazine, were noticeable 
 articles for the time. 
 
 X The original edition of "Common Sense" was published in 
 Philadelphia by Robert Bell, with whom it is said that Paine 
 was then employed as a clerk. — Notes on the Provincial Hist, 
 of Penn. by T. J. Wharton. Penn. Hist. Soc. Memoirs, 1625, 
 p. 151, where some amusing details are given of Bell. He was 
 a Scotsman, who came to Philadelphia in 1766. He had been a 
 partner as a bookseller in Dublin with the facetious George 
 Alexander Stevens. He was first an auctioneer, and after- 
 wards a bookseller in Philadelphia, where lie published Black- 
 stone's Commentaries by subscription in 1772, '-a stupendous 
 enterprise for the time." The Revolution broke up his busi- 
 ness, and he turned auctioneer again and peddler, dying at 
 Richmond, in Virginia, in 17S4. He headed his auction an- 
 nouncements, "Jewels and diamonds to be sold or sacrificed 
 by Robert Bell, humble provedore to the sentimentalists." and 
 sought subscribers to Blackstone with the invitation, "Inten- 
 tional encouragers who wish for a participation of this senti- 
 mental banquet, are requested to scud their names to Robert 
 BelL" 
 
 into a copy of this pamphlet, and was ready to 
 wonder at its popularity, and the effect it pro- 
 duced when originally published. But the truth 
 is, it struck a string which required but a touch 
 to make it vibrate. The country was ripe for 
 independence, and only needed somebody to tell 
 the people so, with decision, boldness, and plau- 
 sibility. Paine did this recklessly, having no- 
 thing to do whether his suggestions were received 
 favorably or unfavorably, while wiser and better 
 men than he were yet maturing their minds by 
 reflection, and looking well to every step which 
 they took or advised. Paine's talent, and lie cer- 
 tainly possessed it eminently, was, to make a tak- 
 ing and striking appeal to popular feelings, when 
 he saw it tending towards a point to which he 
 wi-hed to push it, whether for good or for evil."* 
 
 " I sent you from New York," writes John 
 Adams to his wife, Philadelphia, February 18, 
 1776, "a pamphlet intituled Common Sense, 
 written in vindication of doctrines which there is 
 reason to expect that the further encroachments 
 of tyranny and depredations of oppression will 
 soon make the common faith; unless the cunning 
 ministry, by proposing negotiations and terms of 
 reconciliation, should divert the present current 
 from its channel.''! 
 
 No copyright was taken out ; it was printed to 
 the number of a hundred thousand, and its author, 
 in the midst of success, was in debt to his printer 
 for the work. 
 
 Paine's subsequent pretensions to priority in 
 his Common Sense in setting the ball of revolu- 
 tion in motion were simply absurd. He arrived 
 a foreigner under difficulties, a few months be- 
 fore the battle of Lexington. John Adams, in a 
 letter to Eush, May 1, 1807.J seriously notices 
 these vaporings. The fact is that Paine, admit- 
 ting his merits to the full, was a humble though 
 useful servant of the cause, never its master. 
 
 The University of Pennsylvania made him Mas- 
 ter of Arts, and the legislature voted him the 
 substantial honor of five hundred pounds. In 
 1776 he served as a volunteer in the army, and 
 was with Washington in his retreat before Howe 
 to the Delaware. To arouse the spirit of the 
 people and soldiery he commenced the publica- 
 tion of the series of patriotic tracts, The Crisis, 
 the first number of which appeared December 19, 
 1776, and the last on the attainment of peace, 
 April 19, 1783. There were eighteen numbers 
 in all. Number one is now before us, as it may 
 have been read to the corporal's guard in the 
 camp — eight small octavo pages, in neat pica, and 
 on very dingy paper. Its first stirring sentence 
 is still familiar as a proverb: — "These are the 
 times that try men's souls : the summer soldier 
 
 * Life of Ashbel Green, 46. The following lines appear In 
 Carey's American Museum, i. 167 : — 
 
 American Indrper.d nee. 
 When pregnant Nature strove relief to gain, 
 Her nurse was Washington, her midwife Paine : 
 The infant, Independence, scarce began 
 To be, ere he had ripen'd into man. 
 France bis godfather, Britain was his rod. 
 Congress his guardian, and his father God. 
 t John Adams, in his diary of 1779, tells us that on bis ar- 
 rival in France in that year, he was greeted as the famous 
 Adams on the stieiiirth of the authorship of this pamphlet, 
 which was translated into French, having been ascribed to 
 him. — Works, iii. 1E9. 
 X Works, ix. 591. 
 
THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 199 
 
 and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink 
 from the service of his country ; but he that 
 stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of 
 man and woman." The rest was as good ; sar- 
 casm for the enemy, eulogy for Washington, and 
 a picturesque account of the camp scenes in which 
 he had been engaged. After this, as Cheetham 
 remarks: " Pafne's pen wa-i an appendage almost 
 as necessary to the army of independence, and as 
 formidable, as its cannon;" and he attributes 
 "much of the brilliant little affair" which in the 
 same month followed at Trenton, to the confi- 
 dence inspired by this first number. Paine wrote 
 a second on that victory ; a third at Philadelphia 
 in April, 1777, in which month he was elected 
 by Congress Secretary to the Committee of Fo- 
 reign Affairs, a post which he held till 1779, 
 when he was dismissed from the office for a vio- 
 lation of confidence in publishing a delicate state- 
 ment affecting the loan or gift from France in 
 opposition to the claim of the negotiator Silas 
 Deane. The remaining numbers of the Crisis 
 were occupied, as occasion arose, with war or 
 finance, the encouragement of the army at home, 
 and witty disparagement of the enemy in America 
 and in Parliament. General Sir William Howe 
 and Lord North were particular objects of his in- 
 vective. Of the honors paid to the former, he 
 says: " There are knights of various orders, from 
 the knight of the windmill to the knight of the 
 post," and proposes as a final substitute for the 
 Egyptian method of embalming the more frugal 
 American plan: "In a balmage, sir, of humble 
 tar, you will be as secure as Pharaoh, and in a 
 hieroglyphic of feathers rival in finery all the 
 mummies of Egypt." 
 
 In 1780, Paine was appointed clerk to the As- 
 sembly in Pennsylvania. In 1781, he accom- 
 panied Col. Laurens in his mission to France, to 
 obtain a loan. They set out in February, and re- 
 turned in August with two millions and a half of 
 specie. In 1782, he had published at Philadel- 
 phia his Letter to the Abbe Raynal ; a neat pro- 
 duction, correcting erroneous statements touching 
 the Revolution, in which he shows his own skill 
 in rhetoric at the expense of the foreign writer. 
 
 Paine's services during the war time were pro- 
 perly acknowledged by the government. When 
 Washington was about resigning his commission 
 to Congress, and was at Rocky Bill in the neigh- 
 borhood of Princeton, be sent a letter to Paine at 
 Bordentown, acknowledging his services, offering 
 to impress them upon Congress, and inviting him 
 to his table. In 1785, Congress discharged the 
 obligation by a grant of three thousand dollars ; 
 Pennsylvania presented him five hundred pounds, 
 and New York conferred upon him a handsome 
 estate at New Rochelle, confiscated from a Royal- 
 ist, which embraced three hundred acres of land. 
 
 In 1787, Paine returned to Europe, carrying 
 with him the model of an iron bridge, winch he 
 made some stir with in England. Finding his 
 mother in want, he settled upon her a stated pay- 
 ment for her support. When Burke's Reflections 
 on the French Revolution appeared, he published 
 his reply, the Rights of Man, the first part in 
 1791 ; the second in 1792. It has been generally 
 acknowledge 1 to be a work of ability. Many of 
 its points of attack upon the British constitution 
 are strongly taken, and held with success. Its 
 
 views of hereditary Kingcraft and of Democra- 
 tic representations, have passed, in this country 
 at least, into truisms. One passage is very feli- 
 citous in expression, where he is picturing in 
 terms equal to the language of the great writer 
 whom he is answering, that orator's oversight of 
 the victims of despotism in his poetical commi- 
 seration for the fate of its royal perpetrators. 
 " Not one glance of compassion, not one commi- 
 serating reflection, that I can find throughout his 
 book, has he bestowed on those who lingered out 
 the most wretched of lives, a life without hope, in 
 the most miserable of prisons. It is painful to 
 behold a man employing his talents to corrupt 
 himself. Nature has been kinder to Mr. Burke 
 than he is to her. He is not affected by the reali- 
 ty of distress touching his heart, but by the showy 
 resemblance of it striking his imagination. He 
 pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. Ac- 
 customed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath 
 purloined him from himself, he degenerates into 
 a composition of art, and the genuine soul of na- 
 ture forsakes him. His hero, or his heroine, 
 must be a tragedy victim expiring in show, and 
 not the real prisoner of misery sliding into death 
 in the silence of a dungeon." 
 
 A state prosecution was on foot against him 
 when a French deputation called him to France, to 
 sit in Convention for the department of Calais. 
 His reception on his arrival there in 1792 was 
 sufficiently gratifying to his vanity. In the Con- 
 vention, though he voted for the trial of the king, 
 he endeavored to preserve his life by a speech, in 
 which be recommended banishment to America. 
 " Let," said he, " the United States be the safe- 
 guard and asylum of Louis Capet. There, here- 
 after, far removed from the miseries and crimes of 
 royalty, he may learn, from the constant aspect 
 of public prosperity, that the true system of go- 
 vernment consists in fair equal, and honorable 
 representation." He was engaged in Constitution- 
 making with Condorcet. He attracted the ill will 
 of the extreme part}', and was arrested and sent to 
 prison by Robespierre, on the plea of being a fo- 
 reigner, by the same vote which consigned famous 
 Anacharsis Clootz to a dungeon and the guillo- 
 tine. Paine escaped the latter fate by an acci- 
 dent. He was imprisoned (he writes in one of his 
 letters) on a corridor of the Luxembourg, the door 
 of his room opening outwards. While in this po- 
 sition it was marked by the officers for its supply 
 of victims. When they came round the door was 
 shut and the mark on the inside ; so Paine was 
 not guillotined ; and the tyrant failing shortly 
 after, Monroe, the American ambassador, reclaim- 
 ed him and took him to his house. Bis imprison- 
 ment lasted eleven months, from Dec. 1793 to 
 Nov. 179-4. A first part of Ins infidel work, The 
 Age of Reason, was published while Paine was in 
 prison. The second part appeared in 1796. 
 
 In the same year with the completion of this 
 wretched publication, Paine sent forth in Paris 
 his Letter to George Washington, whom he 
 charged with neglecting to use the influence of 
 government for his release as an American citizen, 
 and not content with this discussion, depreciated 
 for the lack of qualities which he had expressly 
 attributed to him in his American publications.* 
 
 * Paine gave vent to his feelings in the following epigram- 
 
200 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 He had now by these writings made enemies of 
 every friend of religion and his country (for pa- 
 triotism was identical with respect for Washing- 
 ton), and when he returned to America in 1802, 
 it was to fall rapidly in public estimation, with 
 the additional incumbrance of the personal ne- 
 glect and vices of intemperance and avarice into 
 which he fell in his old age. That the former 
 had anticipated his return to America is proved 
 by the Paris correspondence of Gouverneur Mor- 
 ris, who writes of him June 25, 1793, as " a little 
 more drunk than usual," and the following year, 
 March G, " in the best of times he had a larger 
 share of every other sense than of common sense, 
 and lately the intemperate use of ardent spirit 
 has, I am told, considerably impaired the small 
 stock which he originally possessed." 
 
 He visited Jefferson at Washington, who, re- 
 membering his early position, had agreed to his 
 request to bring him home in a national vessel; 
 but the most ardent political reminiscences could 
 not compensate for Paine's personal habits, and 
 the popular contempt into which he had fallen. 
 His friend and biographer Packman takes Barlow 
 to task for omitting any mention of him among 
 the heroes of the American war in the Columbiad, 
 and proposes to give him a snug place between 
 Washington and Franklin in the fifth book of that 
 poem. His last days at New Eochelle and New 
 York have been ruthlessly brought to the gaze 
 of the world by his American biographer, Cheet- 
 ham, who sometimes forgets the decencies due 
 even to drunkenness, and always to old age* 
 Paine's vanity was wounded by the neglect into 
 which he had fallen; his early habits of neatness, 
 when he was painted by Eomney, and " looked 
 altogether like a gentleman of the old French 
 school," could not be detected in the filth into 
 which he had fallen. His intemperance was noto- 
 rious. His treatment of Madame Bonneville, 
 whom he had induced to follow him from Paris, 
 not without scandal, was cruel. He was ar- 
 raigned in court for a petty debt, and exposed by 
 his servants : one of whom is said to have at- 
 tempted his life in revenge for his ill treatment. 
 Janis, the painter, tolerated his presence in his 
 bachelor's quarters, and has left us a melancholy 
 memorial of his appearance in the plaster bust 
 which is preserved in the rooms of the New York 
 Historical Society. While the artist was at work 
 
 matic direction to the sculptor who should make the statue of 
 Washington : 
 
 Take from the mine the coldest, hardest stone, 
 It needs no fashion, it is Washington ; 
 But if you chisel, let your strokes be rude, 
 And on his breast engrave Ingratitude. 
 * Cheetham's revised private copy of the Life of Paino is in 
 the New York Historical Society; the corrections in his own 
 handwriting and intended for a second edition. In the preli- 
 minary address to Clinton, the strong animadversions on the 
 despotism of Jefferson's democracy, and Ids fears of the dura- 
 tion of the Republic, are mitted. The style is generally im- 
 proved by slight verbal alterations. In the description of his 
 first interview with Paine in the Preface, the comparison of 
 the philosopher's nose to Bardolph's. as described by Falstaff, 
 is stricken out. Cheetham was an English radical from Man- 
 chester, who edited in New York the Amwican Citizen, hold- 
 ing a trenchant pen for a newspaper. At first he was the 
 friend of Paine. Paine has had numerous biographers, includ- 
 ing Francis Oldys, a fictitious name on a partisan pamphlet, 
 written by the refugee loyalist, the author of the Political An- 
 nuls, George Chalmers. Paine's name is spelt Pain throughout 
 this production. There is a volume of Memoirs by W. T. 
 Sherwin, London, 1S19 ; by Thomas Ciio Hickman, of the 
 same date ; and a later volume by G. Yale, New York. 1S41. 
 
 upon it, he exclaimed, " I shall secure him to a 
 nicety, if I am so fortunate as to get plaster enough 
 for his carbuncled nose."* He would lodge at 
 different places about town as opportunity served, 
 his habits rendering frequent changes of lodging 
 inevitable. One of his tenements, in not the 
 most agreeable locality, he shared with a show 
 of wild beast-. Death approaching, he desired, 
 in recollection of his Quaker parentage, to be 
 interred in the cemetery of that body, but this 
 consolation was refused him, — a circumstance 
 which is said to have affected him deeply. In 
 his closing days he was visited by clergymen and 
 others to convert him from his irreligion or testify 
 to his infidelity. He died quietly in New York, 
 June 8, 1809. His remains were taken to New 
 Bochelle where he was interred on his farm, with 
 an inscription on a stone, " Thomas Paine, author 
 of Common Sense." In 1819, ten years after- 
 wards, when Cobbett wished to create a sensa- 
 tion, he absurdly rifled the grave of the bones, 
 which he carried to England. 
 
 The merit of Paine's style as a prose writer is 
 very great. He had the art of saying a familiar 
 thing in a familiar way, and at the same time im- 
 parting to it great spirit and freshness. He could 
 sometimes introduce an apposite story almost as 
 well as Franklin. His wit was ready, and generally 
 pungent enough. After his return to America in 
 1802, he writes, " Some of John Adams' loyal 
 subjects, I see, have been to present him with an 
 address on his birth-day ; but the language they 
 use is too tame for the occasion. Birth-day ad- 
 dresses, like birth-day odes, should not creep along 
 like drops of dew down a cabbage leaf, but roll 
 in a torrent of poetical metaphor.''t To Frank- 
 lin's saying, " Where liberty is, there is my coun- 
 try," his retort was, " Where liberty is not, there 
 is my country." A minister of a new sect came 
 to him to explain the Scriptures, asserting that 
 the key had been lost these four thousand years, 
 and they had found it. " It must have been very 
 rusty, then," was his reply. Some of his sentences 
 are felicitous as Sheridan's for neatness and point. 
 Tims in his letter to the Earl of Shelbnrne, of the 
 loss of reputation : " There are cases in which it 
 is as impossible to restore character to life, as it 
 is to recover the dead. It is a phoenix that can 
 expire but once,' and from whose ashes there is 
 no resurrection ;" and to the same nobleman on 
 obedience to outlandish authority : " For a thou- 
 sand reasons England would be the last country 
 to yield it to. She has been treacherous, and wo 
 know it. Her character is gone, and we have seen 
 the funeral." To the Abbe Raynal he says, hold- 
 ing Britain to account for keeping the world ir 
 disturbance and war : " Is life so very long that 
 it is necessary, nay even a duty, to shake the 
 sand and hasten out the period of duration ? n 
 " Science," he says, "the partisan of no country, 
 but the benevolent patroness of all, has liberally 
 opened a temple where all may meet. The phi- 
 losopher of one country sees not an enemy in the 
 philosopher of another : he takes his seat in the 
 
 * Francis's Reminiscences of Printers, Authors, &c There 
 was an old couplet sung by the boys in the streets : — 
 Tom Paine is come from far. from far, 
 llis nose is like a blazing star ! 
 t Second Letter to the Citizens of the U. S. Nov. 19, 1S.2, 
 in the Nat IntelL 
 
THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 201 
 
 temple of science, and asks not who sits beside 
 him." Literature, he calls " the tongue of the 
 world." " War," he says in the Rights of Man, 
 " is the Pharo table of governments, and nations 
 the dupes of the game." It was this word and a 
 blow, this powerful expression in ordinary sym- 
 bols, which gained Paine the ear of the public 
 during the Revolutionary war. His phrases put 
 American resistance in an incontrovertible form. 
 
 Paine's slight claims as a poet depend upon a 
 few showy pieces, more remarkable for their 
 collocation of fine words than just thought or ex- 
 pression. He had fancy, but wanted poetic 
 feeling. 
 
 In another light the study of Paine's character 
 may be of importance to the world, in showing 
 that a certain degree of ready tact and ability, 
 and a certain amount of benevolence, may consist 
 with the utter absence of the higher philosophical 
 and mural qualities. Paine had a great deal of 
 wit and sagacity, but their exercise was confined 
 to a narrow field. "When he undertook his attack 
 upon the Christian religion, it was without the 
 learning, the thought, or the feeling requisite for 
 its study. It is much to ask us to believe that he 
 was sustained by any better motive than vanity. 
 Notwithstanding his experience of the French 
 Revolution in the cell of the Luxembourg, he 
 could not relinquish the egotism and self-suffi- 
 ciency productive of the excesses which had placed 
 him there. Suffering from lawlessness, he was 
 vain and empty enough to seek to inflict that 
 curse upon the world in its most important re- 
 lations. The Age of Season is justly treated with 
 contempt, but it points a most significant moral 
 of the worthlessness of the shallow powers of the 
 understanding divorced from the control of the 
 higher faculties of the soul. " It must soon sink 
 into infamy," said William Linn, from the pulpit, 
 who had commended Paine's political writings in 
 the same place, and " carry his own name along 
 with it. There is nothing new in the perfor- 
 mance, save the bold and indecent manner. In- 
 deed it is provoking to see the Christian religion, 
 after having withstood the roarings of the lion, in- 
 sulted by the brayings of the ass."* The pro- 
 phecy has been verified, and under the odium into 
 which he cast himself few readers of the present 
 day are familiar with the brilliant qualities which 
 once excited our forefathers. 
 
 ODE, OH THE DEATH OF GENERAL WOLFE. 
 
 Is a mouldering cave where the wretched retreat, 
 
 Britannia sat wasted with care; 
 She moura'd for her Wolfe, and exclaim'd against 
 fate, 
 
 And gave herself up to despair. 
 The walls of her cell she had sculptured around 
 
 With the feats of her favorite son ; 
 And even the dust, as it lay on the ground, 
 
 Was engraved with the deeds he had done. 
 
 The sire of the Gods from his crystalline throne 
 
 Beheld the disconsolate dame, 
 And moved with her tears he sent Mercury down, 
 
 And these were the tidings that eauie. 
 
 * Linn's Discourse, fall of Antichrist. Series "Signs of the 
 Times." 1T94. An Epigrammatist wrote : 
 
 Here lies Tom Paine, who wrote in liberty's defence. 
 But iu his "Age of Reason" lost bis "Common Sense." 
 
 Britannia forbear, not a sigh nor a tear 
 
 For thy Wolfe so deservedly loved, 
 Your tears shall be changed into triumphs of joy, 
 
 For thy Wolfe is not dead but removed. 
 
 The sons of the East, the proud giants of old, 
 
 Have crept from their darksome abodes, 
 And this is the news as in heaven it was told, 
 
 They were marching to war with the Gods; 
 A council was held in the chambers of Jove, 
 
 And this was their final deeree, 
 That Wolfe should be called to the armies above, 
 
 And the charge was entrusted to me. 
 
 To the plains of Quebec with the orders I flew, 
 
 He begg'd for a moment's dela}' ; 
 He cry'd, Oh! forbear, let me victory hear, 
 
 And then thy command I'll obey. 
 With a darksome thick film I encompass'd his eyes, 
 
 And bore him away in an urn, 
 Lest the fondness he bore to his own native shore, 
 
 Should induce him again to return. 
 
 EEFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LORD CLIVE. 
 
 Ah ! the tale is told — the scene is ended — and the 
 curtain falls. As an emblem of the vanity of all 
 earthly pomp, let his monument be a globe, but, be 
 that globe a bubble ; let his effigy be a man walking 
 round it in his sleep; and let Fame, in the character 
 of a shadow, inscribe his honors on the air. 
 
 I view him but as yesterday on the burning plains 
 of Plassey, doubtful of life, health, or victory. I see 
 him in the instant when " To be, or not to be," 
 were equal chances to a human eye. To be a lord 
 or a slave, to return loaded with the spoils, or remain 
 mingled with the dust of India. Did necessity 
 always justify the severity of a conqueror, the rude 
 tongue of censure would be silent, and however 
 painfully he might look back on scenes of horror, 
 the pensive reflection would not alarm him. Though 
 his feelings suffered, his conscience would be ac- 
 quitted. The sail remembrance would move serene- 
 ly, and leave the mind without a wound. But, oh, 
 India! thou loud proclaimer of European cruelties, 
 thou bloody monument of unnecessary deaths, be 
 tender in the day of enquiry, and shew a Christian 
 world thou canst suffer and forgive. 
 
 Departed from India, and loaded with the plun- 
 der, I see him doubling the Cape and looking wist- 
 fully to Euro-e. I see him contemplating on years 
 of pleasure, a..d gratifying his ambition with ex- 
 pected honours. I see his arrival pompously an- 
 nounced in every newspaper, his eager eye rambling 
 through the crowd in quest of homage, and his ear 
 listening lest an applause should escape him. Hap- 
 pily for him he arrived before his fame, and the 
 short interval \vas a time of rest. From the crowd 
 I follow him to the court, I see him enveloped in the 
 sunshine of popular favour, rivalling the great in 
 honours, the proud in splendour, and the rich in 
 Avealth. From the court I trace him to the country, 
 his equipage moves like a camp; every village bell 
 proclaims his coming ; the Avandering peasants 
 admire his pomp, and his heart runs over with joy. 
 
 But, alas! not satisfied Avith uncountable thou- 
 sands, I accompany him again to India. I mark the 
 variety of countenances Avhich appear at his landing. 
 Confusion spreads the neAvs. Every passion seems 
 alarmed. The wailing Avidow, the crying orphan, 
 and the childless parent remember and lament; the 
 rival nabobs court his faA-our; the rich dread his 
 power and the poor his severity. Fear and terror 
 march like pioneers before his camp, murder and 
 rapine accompany it, famine and Avretcheduess fol- 
 low in the rear. 
 
202 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Resolved on accumulating an unbounded fortune, 
 he enters into all the schemes of war, treaty, and 
 intrigue. The British sword is set up for sale ; the 
 heads of contending nabobs are offered at a price, 
 and the bribe taken from both sides. Thousands of 
 men or money are trifles in an Indian bargain. The 
 field is an empire, and the treasure almost without 
 end. The wretched inhabitants are glad to com- 
 pound for offences never committed, and to purchase 
 at any rate the privilege to breathe, while he, the 
 sole lord of their lives and fortunes, disposes of 
 either as he pleases, and prepares for Europe. 
 
 Uncommon fortunes require an uncommon date 
 of life to enjoy them in. The usual period is spent 
 in preparing to live: and unless nature prolongs 
 the time, fortune bestows her excess of favours in 
 vain. 
 
 The conqueror of the East having nothing more 
 to expect from the one, has all his court to make to 
 the other. Anxiety for wealth gives place to 
 anxiety for life; and wisely recollecting that the sea 
 is no respecter of persons, resolves on taking his 
 route to Europe by land. Little beings move un- 
 seen, or unobserved, but he engrosses whole king- 
 doms in his march, and is gazed at like a comet. 
 The burning desert, the pathless mountains, and the 
 fertile valleys, are in their turns explored and 
 passed over. Ko material accident distresses his 
 progress, and England once more receives the 
 spoiler. 
 
 How sweet is rest to the weary traveller; the 
 retrospect heightens the enjoyment ; and if the 
 future prospect be serene, the days of ease and hap- 
 piness are arrived. An uriinquiring observer might 
 have been inclined to consider Lord Give, under all 
 these agreeable circumstances: one, whose every 
 care was over, and who had nothing to do but to sit 
 down and say, sow/, take thine ease, thou hast goods 
 laid up in store for many years. 
 
 The reception which he met with on his second 
 arrival was in every instance equal, and in many, it 
 exceeded, the honours of the first. 'Tis the peculiar 
 temper of the English to applaud before they think. 
 Generous of their praise, they frequently bestow it 
 unworthily; but when once the truth arrives, the 
 torrent stops, and rushes back again with the same 
 violence. Scarcely had the echo of applause ceased 
 upon the ear, than the rude tongue of censure took 
 up the talc. The newspapers, fatal enemies to ill- 
 gotten wealth, began to buzz a general suspicion of 
 his conduct, and the inquisitive public soon refined 
 it into particulars. Every post gave a stab to fame 
 — a wound to his peace, and a nail to his coffin. 
 Like spectres from the grave they haunted him in 
 every company, and whispered murder in his ear. 
 A life chequered with uncommon varieties is seldom 
 a long one. Action and care will, in time, wear 
 down the strongest frame, but guilt and melancholy 
 are poisons of quick dispatch. 
 
 Say, cool deliberate reflection, was the prize, 
 though abstracted from the guilt, worthy of the 
 pains ? Ah ! no. Fatigued with victory, he sat 
 down to rest, and while he was recovering breath 
 he lost it. A conqueror more fatal than himself 
 beset him, and revenged the injuries done to India. 
 
 As a cure for avarice and ambition, let us take a 
 view of him in his latter years. Hah ! what gloomy 
 Being wanders yonder? How visibly is the melan- 
 choly heart delineated on his countenance. He 
 mourns no common care — his very steps are timed 
 to sorrow — he trembles with a kind of mental palsy. 
 Perhaps 'tis some broken-hearted parent, some David 
 mourning for his Absalom, or some Heraclitus weep- 
 ing for the world. I hear him utter something 
 about wealth — perhaps he is poor and hath not 
 
 wherewithal to hide his head. Some debtor started 
 from his sleepless pillow, to ruminate on poverty, 
 and ponder on the horrors of a jail ; poor man, I'll 
 to him and relieve him. Hah ! 'tis Lord Clive him- 
 self! Bless me, what a change! He makes, I see, 
 for yonder cypress shade — fit scene for melancholy 
 hearts ! I'll watch him there, and listen to his story. 
 
 Lord Clive. Can I but suffer when a beggar pities 
 me? Ere while I heard a ragged wretch, who every 
 mark of poverty had on, say to a sooty sweep, " Ah, 
 poor Lord Clive ! " while he, the negro-colored 
 vagrant, more mercifully cruel, curst me in my 
 hearing. 
 
 There was a time when fortune, like a yielding 
 mistress, courted me with smiles. She never waited 
 to be told my wishes, but studied to discover them; 
 and seemed not happy to herself, but when she had 
 some favour to bestow. Ah, little did I think the 
 fair enchantress would desert me thus, and after 
 lavishing her smiles upon me, turn my reproaeher, 
 and publish me in folio to the world. Volumes of 
 morality are dull and spiritless compared to me. 
 Lord Clive is himself a treatise upon vanity, printed 
 on a golden type. The most unlettered clown 
 writes explanatory notes thereon, and reads them 
 to his children. Yet I could bear these insults 
 could I but bear myself. A strange unwelcome 
 something hangs about me. In company I seem no 
 company at all. The festive board appears to me a 
 stage, the crimson-colored port resembles blood. 
 Each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in 
 armour, and every bowl appears a nabob. The joy- 
 ous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud 
 laugh are groans of dying men. The scenes of India 
 are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but 
 myself. Ah ! I discover things w r hich are not, and 
 hear unuttered sounds. 
 
 Oh, peace ! thou sweet companion of the calm and 
 innocent! whither art thou fled? Here, take my 
 gold, and all the world calls mine, and come thou in 
 exchange. Or thou, thou noisy sweep, who mix thy 
 food with soot and relish it, who canst descend from 
 lofty heights and walk the humble earth again, 
 without repining at the change, come, teach that 
 mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering 
 beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully, 
 will pilfer from the hound, and eat the dirty morsel 
 sweetly — be thou Lord Clive, and I will beg, so I 
 may laugh like thee. 
 
 Could I unlearn what I've already learned — unact 
 what I've already acted — or would some sacred 
 power convey me back to youth and innocence, I'd 
 act another part — I'd keep within the vale of humble 
 life, nor wish for what the world calls pomp. 
 
 But since this cannot be. 
 
 And only a few days and sad remain for me, 
 •I'll haste to quit the scene; for what is life 
 "When ev'ry passion of the soul's at strife. 
 
 THE AMERICAN CRISIS. — NUMBER ONE. 
 
 These are the times that try men's souls: The 
 summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this 
 crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he 
 that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of 
 man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily 
 conquered; yet we have this consolation With us 
 that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the 
 triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too 
 lightly: — 'Tis dearness only that gives every thing 
 its value. Heaven knows how to set a proper price 
 upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed, if 
 so celestial an article as Freedom should not be 
 
 * Some time before his death, lie became very melancholy — 
 subject to strange imagiuatious — and was found dead at last.— 
 Author's Note. 
 
THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 203 
 
 hig'uly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her 
 tyranny, has declared, that she has a right (not only 
 to Tax, but) " to bin t d us in all cases whatsoever," 
 and if being bound in that manner is not slavery, 
 then is there not siuh a thing as slavery upon earth. 
 Even the expression is impious, for so unlimited a 
 power can belong only to God. 
 
 Whether the Independence of the Continent was 
 declared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not 
 now enter into as an argument; my own simple 
 opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it 
 would have been much better. We did not make a 
 proper use of last winter, neither could we, while 
 we were in a dependent state. However, the fault, 
 if it were one, was all our own ; we have none to 
 blame but ourselves.* But no great deal is lost 
 yet; all that Howe has been doing for this month 
 past is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the 
 spirit of the Jersies a year ago would have quickly 
 repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will 
 soon recover. 
 
 I have as little superstition in me ns any man 
 living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and 
 still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people 
 to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly 
 to perish, who had so earnestly and so repeatedly 
 sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every 
 decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither 
 have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose, 
 that He has relinquished the government of the 
 world, and given us up to the care of devils ; and as 
 I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of 
 Britain can look up to heaven lor help against us: A 
 common murderer, a highwayman, or a house- 
 breaker, has as good a pretence as he. 
 
 'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will 
 sometimes run through a country. All nations and 
 ages have been subject to them: Britain has trem- 
 bled like an ague at the report of a French fleet of 
 flat bottomed boats ; and in the fourteenth century 
 the whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom 
 of France, was driven back like men petrified with 
 fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a 
 few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, 
 Joan of Arc. Would that Heaven might inspire 
 some Jersey Maid to spirit up her countrymen, and 
 6ave her fair fellow-sufferers from ravage and ravish- 
 ment! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; 
 they produce as much good as hurt. Their dura- 
 tion is always short; the mind soon grows thro' 
 them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. But 
 their peculiar advantage is, that they are the 
 touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring 
 things and men to light, which might otherwise 
 have Iain for ever undiscovered. In fact, they 
 have the same effect on secret traitors, which an 
 imaginary apparition would upon a private mur- 
 derer. They sift out the hidden thoughts of man, 
 and hold them up in public to the world. Many a 
 dignified Tory has lately shewn his head, that shall 
 penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which 
 Howe arrived upon the Delaware. 
 
 As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched 
 with them to the edg; of Pennsylvania, I am well 
 acquainted with many circumstances, which those, 
 who lived at a distance, know but little or nothing 
 of. Our situation there was exceedingly cramped, 
 the place being on a narrow neck of land between 
 
 * "The present winter" (meaning the last) "Is worth an 
 age, if lightly employed, but if lost, or neglected, the whole 
 Continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment 
 that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he 
 will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious 
 and useful." — Author's Nota. 
 
 the North River and the Hackensnck. Our force 
 was inconsiderable, being not oue fourth so great as 
 Howe could bring against us. We had no army at 
 hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut 
 ourselves up and stood on the defence. Our ammu- 
 nition, light artillery, and the best part of our 
 stores, had been removed upon the apprehension 
 that Howe would endeavour to penetrate the Jer- 
 sies, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to 
 us ; for it must occur to every thinking man, 
 whether in the army or not, that these kind of field 
 forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in 
 use no longer, than the enemy directs his force 
 against the particular object, which such forts are 
 raised to defend. Such was our situation nnd con- 
 dition at Fort Lee on the morning of the 20th of 
 November, when an officer arrived with informa- 
 tion, that the enemy with 200 boats had landed 
 about seven or eight miles above: Major-General 
 Green, who commanded the garrison, immediately 
 ordered them under arms, and sent express to his 
 Excellency General Washington at the town of 
 Hackensnck, distant by the way of the ferry six 
 miles. Our first object was to secure the bridge 
 over the Hackensaek, which laid up the river be- 
 tween the enemy and us, about six miles from us 
 and three from them. General Washington arrived 
 in about three quarters of an hour, and marched at 
 the head of the troops towards the bridge, which 
 place I expected we should have a brush for; how- 
 ever, they did not chuse to dispute it with us, and 
 the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge, 
 the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at 
 a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and the 
 ferry, and made their way through some marshy 
 grounds up to the town of Hackensaek, and there 
 passed the river. We brought off as much baggage 
 as the waggons could contain, the rest was lost. 
 The simple object was to bring off the garrison, and 
 to march them on till they could be strengthened by 
 the Jersey or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be 
 enabled to make a stand. We staid four days at 
 Newark, collected in our out-posts, with some of the 
 Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the 
 enemy on information of their being advancing, 
 though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs. 
 Howe, in my little opinion, committed a great error 
 in generalship, in not throwing a body of forces off 
 from Staatan Island through Amboy, by which 
 means he might have seized all our stores at Bruns- 
 wick, and intercepted our march into Pennsylvania: 
 But, if we believe the power of hell to be limited, 
 we must likewise believe that their agents are under 
 some providential eontroul. 
 
 I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars 
 of our retreat to the Delaware ; suffice it for tho 
 present to say, that both officers and men, though 
 greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without 
 rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable conse- 
 quences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and 
 a martial spirit. All their wishes were one, which 
 was, that the country would turn out and helr> them 
 to drive the enemy back. Voltaire has emarked, 
 that King William never appeared to full : dvantage 
 but in difficulties and in action; the samt remark 
 may be made on General Washington, for I e cha- 
 racter fits him. There is a natural firmness in some 
 minds which cannot be unlocked by trifles, but 
 which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of forti- 
 tude; and I reckon it among those kind of public 
 blessings, which we do not immediately see, that 
 God hath blest him with uninterrupted health, nnd 
 given him a mind that can even flourish upon care. 
 
 I shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous 
 remarks on the state of our affairs ; and shall begin 
 
204 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 with asking the following question, Why is it that 
 the enemy hath left the New England provinces, 
 and made these middle ones the seat of war? The 
 answer is easy : Hew England is not infested with 
 Tories, and we are. I have been tender in raising 
 the cry against these men, and used numberless 
 arguments to shew them their danger, but it will 
 not do to sacrifice a world to either their folly or 
 their baseness. The period is now arrived, in which 
 either they or we must change our sentiments, or one 
 or both must fall. And what is a Tory ? Good 
 God! what is he? I should not be afraid to go 
 with a hundred Whigs against a thousand Tories, 
 were they to attempt to get into arms. Every Tory 
 is a coward, for a servile, slavish, self-interested 
 fear is the foundation of Toryism ; and a man under 
 such influence, though he may be cruel, never can 
 be brave. 
 
 But before the line of irrecoverable separation be 
 drawn between us, let us reason the matter to- 
 gether : Your conduct is an invitation to the enemy, 
 yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough 
 to join him. Howe is as much deceived by you as 
 the American cause is injured by you. He expects 
 you will all take up arms, and flock to his standard 
 with muskets on your shoulders. Your opinions are 
 of no use to him, unless you support him personally; 
 for 'tis soldiers, and not Tories, that he wants. 
 
 I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man 
 ought to feel, against the mean principles that are 
 held by the Tories: A noted one, "who kept a tavern 
 at Amboj', was standing at his door, with as pretty 
 a child in Ins hand, about eight or nine years old, 
 as most I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as 
 freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this 
 unfatherly expression, " Well ! give me peace in my 
 day." Not a man lives on the Continent but fully 
 believes that a separation must some time or other 
 finally take place, and a generous parent would have 
 said, " If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, 
 that my child may have peace;" and this single 
 reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every 
 man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so 
 happy as America. Her situation is remote from 
 all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do 
 but to trade with them. A man may easily distin- 
 guish in himself between temper and principle, and 
 I am as confident, as I am that God governs the 
 world, that America will never be happy till she 
 gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars, without 
 ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and 
 the Continent must in the end be conqueror; for, 
 though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to 
 shine, the coal never can expire. 
 
 America did not, nor does not, want force ; out 
 she wanted a proper application of that force. 
 Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no 
 wonder that we should err at first setting off. From 
 an excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise 
 an army, and trusted our cause to the temporary 
 defence of a well meaning militia. A summer's 
 experience has now taught us better; vet with 
 those troops, while they were collected, we were 
 able to set bounds to the progress of the enemy, and 
 thank God! they are again assembling. I always 
 considered a militia as the best troops in the world 
 for a sudden exertion, but they will not do for a 
 long campaign. Howe, it is probable, will make an 
 attempt on this city ; should he fail on this side the 
 Delaware, he is ruined; if he succeeds, our cause is 
 not ruined. He stakes all on his side against a part 
 on ours ; admitting he succeeds, the consequence 
 will be, that armies from both ends of the Continent 
 will march to assist their suflering friends in the 
 middle States : for he cannot go every where, it is 
 
 impossible. I consider Howe as the greatest enemy 
 the Tories have ; he is bringing a war into their 
 country, which, had it not been for him and partly 
 for themselves, they had been clear of. Should he 
 now be expelled, I wish, with all the devotion of a 
 Christian, that the names of Whig and Tory may 
 never more be mentioned ; but should the Tories 
 give him encouragement to come, or assistance if 
 he come, I as sincerely wish that our next year's arms 
 may expel them from the Continent, and the Congress 
 appropriate their possessions to the relief of those who 
 have suffered in well doing. A single successful bat- 
 tle next year will settle the whole. America could 
 carry on a two years' war by the confiscation of the 
 property of disaffected persons, and be made happy by 
 their expulsion. Say not that this is revenge, call it 
 rather the 6oft resentment of a suffering people, who. 
 having no object in view but the good of all, have 
 staked their own all upon a seemingly doubtful 
 event. Yet it is folly to argue against determined 
 hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the 
 language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compas- 
 sion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled 
 with prejudice. 
 
 Quitting this class of men, I turn with the warm 
 ardour of a friend to those who have nobly stood, 
 and are yet determined to stand the matter out- I 
 call not upon a few, but upon all , not on this State 
 or that State, but on every State . up and help us ; 
 lay your shoulders to the wheel . better have too 
 much force than too little, when so great an object 
 is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that 
 in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and 
 virtue could survive, that the city and the country, 
 alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet 
 and to repulse it. Say not, that thousands are gone, 
 turn out your tens of thousands ; throw not the 
 burthen of the day upon Providence, but, " shew 
 your faith by your works," that God may bless you. 
 It matters not where you live, or what rank of life 
 you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. 
 The far and the near, the home counties and the 
 back, the rich and the poor, shall suffer or rejoice 
 alike. The heart that feels not now, is dead: The 
 blood of his children shall curse his cowardice, who 
 shrinks back at a time when a little might have 
 saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the 
 man that can smile in trouble, that can gather 
 strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 
 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink ; but he 
 whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves 
 his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. 
 My own line of reasoning is to myself as strait and 
 clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the 
 world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to 
 support an offensive war, for I think it murder ;, but 
 if a thief break into my house, burn and destroy my 
 property, and kill or threaten to kill me. or those 
 that are in it, and to " bind me in all cases whatso* 
 ever," to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? What 
 signifies it to me, whether he who does it, is a king 
 or a common man ; my countryman or not my 
 eemtryman? whether it is done by an individual 
 vllain, or an army of them? If we reason to the 
 root of things we shall find no difference ; neither 
 can any just cause be assigned why we should 
 punish in the one case, and pardon in the other. 
 Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no con- 
 cern from it; but I should suffer the misery of 
 devils, were I to make a whore of my soul by 
 swearing allegiance to one, whose character is that 
 of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish 
 man. I conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving 
 mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be 
 shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him, 
 
THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 205 
 
 and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, 
 and the slain of America. 
 
 Tiiere are cases which cannot be overdone by 
 language, and this is one. There are persons too 
 who see not the full extent of the evil that threatens 
 them; they solace themselves with hopes that the 
 enemy, if they succeed, will be merciful. It is the 
 madness of folly to expect mercy from those who 
 have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where 
 conquest is the object, is only a trick of war: The 
 cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence 
 of the wolf; and we ought to guard equally against 
 both. Howe's first object is partly by threats and 
 partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people 
 to deliver up their arms, and receive mercy. The 
 ministry recommended the same plan to Gage, and 
 this is what the Tories call making their peace ; " a 
 peace which passeth all understanding," indeed! A 
 peace which would be the immediate forerunner of 
 a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. Ye 
 men of Pennsylvania, do reason upon those things! 
 Were the back counties to give up their arms, they 
 would fall an easy prey to the Indians, who are all 
 armed : This perhaps is what some Tories would not 
 be sorry for. Were the home counties to deliver up 
 their arms, they would be exposed to the resent- 
 ment of the back counties, who would then have it 
 in their power to chastise their defection at plea- 
 sure. .And were any one State to give up its arms, 
 that State must be garrisoned by all Howe's army 
 of Britons and Hessians to preserve it from the 
 anger of the rest. Mutual fear is a principal link 
 in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that 
 State that breaks the compact. Howe is mercifully 
 inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men 
 must be either rogues or fools that will not see it. 
 I dwell not upon the vapours of imagination ; I 
 bring reason to your ears; and in language, as plain 
 as A, B, C, holl up truth to your eyes. 
 
 I thank God that I fear not. I see no real cause 
 for fear, I know our situation well, ami can see the 
 way out of it. While our army was collected, 
 Howe dared not risk a battle, and it is no credit to 
 him that he decamped from the White Plains, and 
 waited a mean opportunity to ravage the defence- 
 less Jersies ; but it is great credit to us, that, with 
 an handful of men, Ave sustained an orderly retreat 
 for near an hundred miles, brought off our ammuni- 
 tion, all our field-pieces, the greatest part of our 
 stores, and had four rivers to pass. None can say 
 that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near 
 three weeks in performing it, that the country 
 might have time to come in. Twice we marched 
 back to meet the enemy and remained out till dark. 
 The sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had 
 not some of the cowardly and disaffected inhabitants 
 spread false alarms thro' the country, the Jersies had 
 never been ravaged. Once more we are again col- 
 lected and collecting ; our new army at both ends 
 of the Continent is recruiting last, and we shall be 
 able to open the next campiign with sixty thou- 
 sand men, well armed and cloathed. This is our 
 situation, and who will may know it. By persever- 
 ance and fortitude we have the prospect of a 
 glorious issue ; by cowardice and submission, the 
 sad choice of a variety of evils — a ravaged coun- 
 try — a depopulated city — habitations without 
 safety, and slavery without hope — our homes turned 
 into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians, and 
 a future race to provide for whose fathers we 
 shall doubt of. Look on this picture, and weep 
 over it! — and if there yet remains one thought- 
 less wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it 
 unlamented. 
 
 Philadelphia, December 19, 1770. 
 
 LIBERTY TREE, 
 
 A Song, written early in the American Revolution. 
 Tune — " Gods of the Greeks." 
 In a chariot of light, from the regions of day, 
 
 The Goddess of Liberty came, 
 Ten thousand celestials directed her way, 
 
 And hither conducted the dame. 
 A fair budding branch from the gardens above, 
 
 Where millions with millions agree, 
 She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love, 
 
 And the plant she named Liberty Tree. 
 
 The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground. 
 
 Like a native it flourish'd and bore: 
 The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, 
 
 To seek out this peaceable shore. 
 Unmindful of names or distinctions they came, 
 
 For freemen like brothers agree ; 
 With one spirit endued, they one friendship pur- 
 sued, 
 
 And their temple was Liberty Tree. 
 
 Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, 
 
 Their bread in contentment they ate, 
 Unvexed with the troubles of silver or gold, 
 
 The cares of the grand and the great. 
 With timber and tar they Old England supplied, 
 
 And supported her power on the sea: 
 Her battles they fought, without getting a groat, 
 
 For the honour of Liberty Tree 
 
 But hear, ye swains ('tis a tale most profane), 
 
 How all the tyrannical powers, 
 King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain, 
 
 To cut down this guardian of ours. 
 From the east to the west blow the trumpet to 
 arms, 
 
 Thro' the land let the sound of it flee: 
 Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer, 
 
 In defence of our Liberty Tree. 
 
 Fr.OM THE CASTLE IN TnE AIR TO THE LITTLE CORNEE OF Tim 
 WORLD.* 
 
 In the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds 
 arise, 
 
 My Castle of Fancy was built ; 
 The turrets reflected the blue of the skies, 
 
 And the windows with sunbeams were gilt. 
 
 The rainbow sometimes in its beautiful 6tatc, 
 
 Enamell'd the mansion around ; 
 And the figures that fancy in clouds can create, 
 
 Supplied me with gardens and ground. 
 
 I had grottoes, and fountains, and orange-tree 
 groves, 
 I had all that enchantment has told; 
 I had sweet shady walks, for the Gods and their 
 Loves, 
 I had mountains of coral and gold. 
 
 But a storm that I felt not. had risen and roll'd, 
 
 While wrapp'd in a slumber I lay ; 
 And when I look'd out in the morning, behold 
 
 My Castle was carried away. 
 
 * Mr. Paine, while in prison at Paris, corresponded with a 
 lady under the signature of ■•The Castle in the Air," while she 
 addressed her letters from "The Little Corner of the World. 
 For reafons which he knew not. their intercourse was sud- 
 denly suspended, and for some time he believed his fair friend 
 to be in obscurity and distress. Many years afterwards, how- 
 ever, he met her unexpectedly at Paris, in affluent circum- 
 stances, and married to Sir Robert Smith. The following is a 
 copy of one of these poetical effusions. — Note by T/to*. Clio 
 Itxckman. 
 
206 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It past over rivers, and vallies, and groves, 
 
 The world it was all in my view ; 
 I thought of rny friends, of their fates, of their 
 loves, 
 
 And often, full often of you. 
 
 At length it came over a beautiful scene, 
 
 That Nature in silence had made ; 
 The place was but small, but 'twas sweetly serene. 
 
 And chequer'd with sunshine and shade. 
 
 I gazed, and I envied with painful goodwill, 
 And grew tired of rny seat in the air; 
 
 When all of a sudden my Castle stood still, 
 As if some attraction was there. 
 
 Like a lark from the sky it came fluttering down. 
 
 And placed me exactly in view, 
 When who should I meet, in this charming retreat, 
 
 This corner of calmness, but you. 
 
 Delighted to find you in honour and ease, 
 
 I felt no more sorrow, nor pain ; 
 But the wind coming fair, I ascended the breeze, 
 
 And went back with my Castle again. 
 
 ETHAN ALLEN. 
 
 Ethan Allen", the herd of Vermont, wasas proud 
 of his literature as of his personal vigor and gene- 
 ralship. Indeed, no small part of the former was 
 put into his writings. He wrote as lie acted, a 
 word ami a blow. For a certain quick intense 
 conception of things, the uninstructed physique 
 of the mind, his narrative of his captivity is a 
 model, like his own figure, of rude, burly strength. 
 It is to be regretted that he did not choose a better 
 provitice for the exercise of his intellect in his 
 main work than a low form of infidelity and vul- 
 gar attack upon the Christian religion. 
 
 Ethan Allen, the son of a farmer in Connecti- 
 cut, was born at Coventry in that state, Jan. 10, 
 1737. He removed to Vermont about the year 
 1772, and became the stalwart leader of the Green 
 Mountain Boys in their resistance to the territo- 
 
 rial claims of New York. His brilliant surprisal 
 of Ticonderoga, in 1775, "in the name of the great 
 Jehovah and of the Continental Congress" need 
 hardly be mentioned here. It was probably the 
 success of that adventure which led to the rash 
 attempt upon Montreal, where he was taken 
 
 prisoner; a captivity which gave rise to his au- 
 thorship of a volume which contains as much of 
 the essence of military revolutionary whigismand 
 anti-toryism, as it is possible to convey in the 
 same space. This work tells a sad story of the lack 
 of gallantry and of the oppression of the British 
 service at that time. A prisoner taken in war by 
 the English seems to have been regarded as 
 something between an enemy and a convict, not 
 entitled to the honorable courtesy due to the 
 one, and not exactly responsible to the gallows 
 assigned for the other. The intermediate term 
 was a rebel, and the respect for consanguinity 
 which England should have shown in the strug- 
 gle, was lost in the contempt of familiarity — as an 
 old-fashioned father would whip his own children 
 and reverence those of other persons. In this 
 humor of his conquerors, Allen was taken from 
 Montreal confined hand and feet in irons, carried 
 on board the Gaspee schooner-of-war, taken from 
 Quebec to Liverpool in a government vessel, suf- 
 fering the accommodations of a slave ship, landed 
 with indignity at Falmouth ; was kept a prisoner 
 and a show at Pendennis castle ; removed to the 
 Solebay frigate, which putting into Cork, the 
 stores which tender-hearted Irish friends sent 
 him were confiscated for the use of the vessel; 
 was brought to the coast of America, and kept 
 in various degrees of restraint, latterly under free- 
 dom of parole at New York, till the victory of 
 Saratoga brought about his release in 1778. He 
 published the narrative of his captivity in the fol- 
 lowing year. 
 
 A few sentences of this production will show 
 the man in the author. It opens directly with 
 the affair of Ticonderoga : — " Ever since I arrived 
 at the state of manhood, and acquainted myself 
 with the general history of mankind, I have felt 
 a sincere passion for liberty." For a vivid pic- 
 ture of a personal encounter at a critical moment, 
 witness his defence of himself against an Indian 
 before Montreal, by seizing a British officer for a 
 shield, and holding him before him : — 
 
 The officer I capitulated with, then directed me 
 and my party to advance towards him, which was 
 done ; I handed him my sword, and in half a mi- 
 nute after, a savage, part of whose head was shaved, 
 being almost naked and painted, with feathers in- 
 termixed with the hair of the other side of his head, 
 came running to me with an incredible swiftness ; he 
 seemed to advance with more than mortal speed; as 
 he approached near me, his hellish visage was be- 
 yond all description ; snake's eyes appear innocent 
 in comparison to his; his features extorted; malice, 
 death, murder, and the wrath of devils and damned 
 spirits are the emblems of his countenance ; and in 
 less than twelve feet of me, presented his firelock; 
 at the instant of his present, I twitched the officer, 
 to whom 1 gave my sword, between nro and the 
 savage ; but lie flew round with great fury, trying to 
 single me out to shoot me without killing the officer; 
 but by this time I was nearly as nimble as he, keep- 
 ing the officer in such a position that his danger was 
 my defence ; but, in less than half a minute, I was 
 attacked by just such another imp of hell : Then I 
 made the officer fiy around with incredible velocity, 
 for a few seconds of time, when I perceived a Cana- 
 dian, who had lost one eye, as appeared afterwards, 
 taking my part against the savages; and in an in- 
 stant an Irishman came to my assistance with a fixed 
 bayonet, and drove away the fiends, swearing by 
 
ETHAN ALLEN. 
 
 207 
 
 he would kill them. This tragic scene compos- 
 ed my mind. The escaping from so awful a death 
 made even imprisonment happy ; the more so as my 
 conquerors 0:1 the field treated me with great civili- 
 ty and politeness. 
 
 We hardly need his assurance, that while con- 
 fined on hoard the Gaspee schooner in irons, he 
 was " obliged to throw out plenty of extravagant 
 language, which answered certain purposes at that 
 time, better than to grace a history." The non- 
 chalant humor of the man was defiant even of 
 death. " The cause," says he, " I was engaged in 
 I ever viewed worthy hazarding my life for, nor 
 was I, in the most critical moments of trouble, 
 sorry that I engaged in it ; and, as to the world 
 of spirits, though I knew nothing of the mode and 
 manner of it, I expected nevertheless, when I 
 should arrive at such a world, that I should be as 
 well treated as other gentlemen of my merit." 
 His characters of those about him show a subtle 
 knowledge of human nature, as this hint at a fool 
 in authority : " I now found myself under a worse 
 captain than Symonds, for Montague was loaded 
 with prejudices against every body and every 
 thing that was not stamped with royalty ; and 
 being by nature underwitted, his wrath was hea- 
 vier than the others ; or at least his mind was in no 
 instance liable to be directed by good sense, humor, 
 or bravery, of which Symonds was by turns sus- 
 ceptible." His account of Loring, the British 
 commissary of prisoners in the days of prison- 
 ships at New York, is in his strongest manner. 
 
 This Loring is a monster ! — There is not his like 
 in human shape. He exhibits a smiling countenance, 
 seems to wear a phiz of humanity, but has been in- 
 strumentally capable of the most consummate acts of 
 wickedness, which were first projected by an aban- 
 doned British council clothe I with the authority of 
 a Howe, murdering premeditatedly, in cold biood, 
 near or quiLe two thousand helpless prisoners, and 
 that in the most clandestine, mean, and shameful 
 manner, at New York. He is the most mean spirit- 
 ed, cowardly, deceitful, and destructive animal in 
 God's creation below, and regions of infernal devils, 
 with all their tremendous horrors, are impatiently 
 ready to receive Howe and him, with all their detes- 
 table accomplices, into the most exquisite agonies of 
 the hottest region of hell tire. 
 
 Probably the British were as glad to part with 
 a gentleman who could employ his tongue as pow- 
 erfully as Ids sword, when he was denied the lat- 
 ter weapon, as Allen was to be released by Elias 
 Boudinot, sent by Congress for the service, and 
 fall into the open arms of General Washington, 
 at Valley Forge, "with peculiar marks of his 
 approbation and esteem." It is told of one of 
 Allen's word encounters with a British officer, 
 that the latter replied to his challenge, to pro- 
 duce another woman who had seven such sons as 
 his mother — that Mary Magdalene was a case in 
 point, who was also delivered of seven devils. 
 
 His interview with Bivington, the pleasure- 
 loving king's printer at New York, during his 
 parole, is characteristic of both parties. Biving- 
 ton had offended him by his allusions, and Allen 
 swore " he would lick him the very first opportu- 
 nity he had." The sequel is told by Bivington 
 himself. " I was sitting," says he, " after a good 
 dinner, alone, with my bottle of Madeira before 
 
 me, when I heard an unusual noise in the street, 
 and a huzza from the boys. I was in the second 
 story, and, stepping to the window, saw a tall 
 figure in tarnished regimentals, with a large 
 cocked hat and an enormous long sword, followed 
 by a crowd of boys, who occasionally cheered him 
 with huzzas, of which he seemed insensible. He 
 came up to my door and stopped. 1 could 
 see no more. My heart told me it was Ethan 
 Allen. I shut my window and retired behind 
 my table and my bottle. I was certain the hour 
 of reckoning had come. There was no retreat. 
 Mr. Staples, my clerk, came in paler than ever, 
 and, clasping his hands, said, " Ma ter, he has 
 come!" "I know it." "He entered the store 
 and asked 'if James Bivington lived there?' I 
 answered, 'Yes, sir.' 'Is he at home?' 'I will 
 go and see, sir,' I said ; and now, master, what is 
 to be done? There he is in the store, and the 
 boys peeping at him from the street." I had 
 made up my mind. I Linked at the Madeira — 
 possibly took a glass. "Show him up," said I; 
 "and if such Madeira cannot mollify him, ho 
 must be harder than adamant." There was a 
 fearful moment of suspense. I heard him on the 
 stairs, his long sword clanking at every step. In 
 he stalked. "Is your name James Bivington?" 
 "It is, sir, and no man could be more happy than 
 I am to see Colonel Ethan Allen." "Sir, I have 
 come " " Not another word, my dear colo- 
 nel, until you have taken a seat and a gla~s of 
 old Madeira." "But, sir, I don't think it proper 
 
 " "Not another word, colonel. Taste this 
 
 wine. I have had it in glass for ten year.?. Old 
 wine, you know, unless it is originally sound, 
 never improves by age." He took the glass, 
 swallowed the wine, smacked his lips, and shook 
 
 his head approvingly. " Sir, I come " "Not 
 
 another word until you have taken another glass, 
 and then, my dear colonel, we will talk of old 
 affairs, and I have some queer events to detail." 
 In short, wo finished two bottles of Madeira, and 
 parted as good friends as if we had never had 
 cause to be otherwise."* 
 
 After his captivity, Allen returned to Vermont, 
 where he was received with a hearty welcome at 
 Bennington. He again identified himself with 
 the history of the independence of Vermont both 
 against England and the neighboring states, and 
 after that was secured in 1791, lived mostly in 
 retirement, composing his infidel work, Reason 
 the only Oracle o/Manjt which appeared in 1784. 
 
 * Dc Puy's Ethan Allen, p. 2f2. 
 
 t Reason the only Oracle of Man. or a compendious system 
 of natural religion, alternately adorned with confutations of a 
 variety of doctrines incompatible to it; deduced from the 
 most exalted ideas which we are able to form of the Divine 
 and Unman diameters, and from the universe in general. 
 Svo. pp. 477. Bennington. Vt. 17S4. As the greater portion of 
 tiiis edition was destroyed by fire in its printing office, and it lias 
 not been reprinted entire, this is now a very scarce volume. 
 A mutilated edition appeared about 1849 in New York. 
 
 When Graydon was a prisoner in New York in 1777, after 
 the hiss of Fort Washington, he met Allen, and has left in his 
 Memoirs a striking account of his impressions of the man. 
 " His figure was that of a robust, large-framed man, worn 
 down by confinement and hard fare ; but he was now recover- 
 ing his flesh and spirits ; and a suit of blue clothes, with a gold 
 laced hat that had been presented to him by the gentlemen of 
 Cork, enabled him to make a very passable appearance for a 
 rebel Colonel. He used to show a fracture in one of his teeth, 
 occasioned bv his twisting off with it. in a fit of anger, the nail 
 which fastened the bar of his handcuffs ; and which drew from 
 one of the astonished spectators the exclamation of "Damn 
 
208 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Of this book, Dr. Dwight, in his Travels, has 
 remarked that " it was the first formal publication 
 in the United States, openly directed against the 
 Christian religion. When it came out, I read as 
 much of it as I could summon patience to read. 
 Decent nonsense may possibly amuse an idle hour ; 
 but brutal nonsense can only be read as an inflic- 
 tion of penal justice."* 
 
 The story of Allen's second marriage, illus- 
 trating these opinions, is told by his latest bio- 
 grapher, De Pay, in his interesting and valuable 
 contribution to the history of Vermont.t 
 
 " General Allen, who had at various times 
 resided at Bennington, Arlington, and Tinmouth, 
 at last took up his residence on the "Winooski. 
 During a session of the court at Westminster, he 
 appeared with a magnificent pair of horses and a 
 black driver. Chief Justice Robinson and Stephen 
 R. Bradley, an eminent lawyer, were there, and I 
 as their breakfast was on the table, they asked 
 Allen to join them. He replied that he had 
 breakfasted, and while they were at the table, he 
 would go in and see Mrs. Buchanan, a handsome 
 widow who was at the house. He entered the 
 sitting-room, and at once said to Mrs. Buchanan, 
 ' Well, Fanny, if we are to be married, let us be 
 about it.' ' Very well,' she promptly replied, 
 ' give me time to fix up.' In a few minutes she 
 was ready, and Judge Robinson was at once I 
 called upon by them to perform the customary 
 ceremony. Said Allen, 'Judge, Mrs. Buchanan 
 and I have concluded to be married ; I don't care 
 much about the ceremony, and as near as I can 
 find out, Fanny cares as little for it a.s I do ; but as 
 a decent respect for the customs of society requires 
 it of us, we are willing to have the ceremony 
 performed.' The gentlemen present were much 
 surprised, and Judge Robinson replied, ' General 
 Allen, this is an important matter; have you 
 thought seriously of it ? ' ' Yes, yes,' exclaimed 
 Allen, looking at Mrs. Buchanan; 'but it don't 
 require much thought.' Judge Robinson then rose 
 from his seat and said, ' Join your hands together. 
 Ethan Allen, you take this woman to be your 
 lawful and wedded wife : you promise to love and 
 
 protect her according to the law of God and ' 
 
 ' Stop, stop, Judge. The law of God,' said Allen, 
 looking forth upon the fields, ' all nature is full of 
 it. Yes, go on. My team is at the door.' As 
 
 him, can lie cat iron [" * * * TTis style was a singular com- 
 pound of local barbarisms, scriptural phrases, and oriental 
 wildness; and though uuclassic and sometimes ungrammatical, 
 it was highly animated and forcible. In the following sentence 
 of his narrative, though it is not perhaps strictly correct in its 
 construction, there is to me, a flash of moral pathos not 
 unworthy a Robertson. l When the fleet,' says he, ' consisting 
 of about forty-five sail, including five men-of-war, sailed from 
 the cove (of Cork) with a fresh breeze, the appearance was 
 beautiful, abstracted from the unjust and bloody designs they 
 had in view.' Notwithstanding that Allen might have had 
 something of the insubordinate, lawless frontier spirit in his 
 composition, having been in a state of hostility with the 
 government of New York before the war of the revolution, he 
 appeared to me to be a man of generosity and honor; several 
 instances of which occur in his publication, and one not 
 equivocally came under my own observation. General Wash- 
 ington, speaking of him in an official letter of May the 12th, 
 1783, observes, with a just discrimination, that there was an 
 original something in him which commanded admiration," — 
 Gravdon's Memoirs, 243. 
 
 * II. 4(16. 
 
 t Kthan Allen and the Green Mountain Heroes of '76, with a 
 sketch of the Early History of Vermont, by Henry W. De 
 Puy, author of "Louis Napoleon and his Times," "Kossuth," 
 &c. Buffalo. Phinney & Co., 1S53. 
 
 soon as the ceremony was ended, General Allen 
 and his bride entered his carriage and drove off." 
 
 Two anecdotes of Allen show the best nature 
 of the man. He once gave a note to a citizen of 
 Boston, who put it in collection in Vermont. 
 Judgment was about being taken, when Allen 
 employed a lawyer to stay proceedings. To his 
 surprise, he heard, from a distant part of the 
 court-house, his lawyer deny the signature; upon 
 which he rushed forward, and in a loud, indignant 
 
 tone, confronted him : " Mr. , I didn't hire 
 
 you to come here and lie. That is a true note. 
 I signed it ; I'll swear to it ; and I'll pay it ! I 
 want no shuffling. I want time. What I em- 
 ployed you for, was to get this business put over 
 to the next court ; not to come here and lie and 
 juggle about it."* This proves his honor; 
 another instance shows his humanity. When two 
 children, daughters of a settler, were once lost in 
 the woods of Vermont, search was made for 
 them by the townspeople and given up. Allen 
 mounted a stump, made an eloquent, pathetic 
 appeal, rallied the company for a new expedition, 
 and the children were restored to their parents. 
 Another anecdote is somewhat ludicrous, but 
 energetic. While at Tinmouth, he was one day 
 in the house of the village physician when a lady 
 was present for the purpose of having a tooth 
 drawn. As often as the doctor was ready, the 
 lady's timidity baulked his operations. Allen's 
 big nature grew restive at the sight. "Here, 
 Doctor, take out one of my teeth." " But your 
 teeth are all sound." " Never mind. Do as I 
 direct you." Out came a tooth. " Now, madam," 
 says Allen to the lady, " take courage from the 
 example." He once threatened to apply the 
 airgumcntum ad liominem in this novel form on a 
 somewhat larger scale. A man had been con- 
 victed of supplying the British with provisions, 
 and been sentenced by a jury of six to be hung. 
 A lawyer interposed for a new trial, as twelve 
 must constitute a legal jury. The public was dis- 
 appointed at the reprieve. Allen addressed them 
 with an oath, advising to wait for the day next 
 appointed, promising-^" You shall see somebody 
 hung at all events ; for if Redding is not then 
 hung, I will be hung myself.''t 
 
 It was not long after the time of these stories, 
 in the full possession of his powers, at the age 
 of fifty, he was cut off suddenly by apoplexy, at 
 Burlington, Vermont, February 12, 1789. 
 
 A brother of Ethan Allen, Ira Allen, wrote the 
 Natural and Political History of the State of 
 Vermont, published in an octavo volume in 1798. 
 
 CONQUEST OF TICONDEEOGA. 
 
 Ever since I arrived at the state of manhood, and 
 acquainted myself with the general history of man- 
 kind, I have felt a sincere passion for liberty. The 
 history of nations, doomed to perpetual slavery, in 
 consequence of yielding up to tyrants their natural- 
 born liberties, I read with a sort of philosophical 
 horror; so that the first systematical and bloody 
 attempt, at Lexington, to enslave America, 
 thoroughly electrified my mind, and fully deter- 
 
 * Lossing's Field Book, i. 180. 
 
 t De Puy, p. 392, who vouches for the authenticity of tho 
 two last stories. He shows reason to doubt the common story 
 of the message sent by Aliens daughter to him on her death- 
 bed. 
 
FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 
 
 209 
 
 mined me to take part with my country. And, 
 while I was wishing for an opportunity to signalize 
 myself in its behalf, directions were privately sent 
 to me from the then colony (now state) of Connecti- 
 cut, to raise the Green-Mountain Boys, and, if possi- 
 ble, with them to surprise and take the fortress of 
 Ticonderoga. This enterprise I cheerfully undertook ; 
 and, after tirst guarding all the several passes that 
 led thither, to cut off all intelligence between the 
 garrison and the country, made a forced march from 
 Bennington, and arrived at the lake opposite to 
 Ticonderoga, on the evening of the ninth day of May, 
 1775, with two hundred and thirty valiant Green- 
 Mountain Boys; and it was with the utmost diffi- 
 culty that I procured boats to cross the lake. How- 
 ever, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison, 
 and sent the boats ha:k for the rear-guard, com- 
 manded by Col. Seth Warner, but the day began to 
 dawn, and I found myself under the necessity to 
 attack the fort, before the rear could cross the lake; 
 and, as it was viewed hazardous, I harangued the 
 officers and soldiers in the manner following; — 
 
 " Friends ami fellow soldiers — You have for a num- 
 ber of years past been a scourge and terror to 
 arbitrary power. Your valor has been famed abroad, 
 and acknowledged, as appears by the advice and 
 orders to me, from the General Assembly of Con- 
 necticut, to surprise and take the garrison now 
 before us. I now propose to advance before you, 
 and, in person, conduct you through the wicket- 
 gate; for we must this morning either quit our pre- 
 tensions to valor, or possess ourselves of this fortress 
 in a few minutes; and, inasmuch as it is a desperate 
 attempt, which none but the bravest of men dare 
 undertake, I do not urge it on any contrary to his 
 wilL You that will undertake voluntarily, poise 
 your firelocks." 
 
 The men being, at this time, drawn up in three 
 ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to 
 face to the right, and at the iiead of the centre-file, 
 marched them immediately to the wicket-gate afore- 
 said, where I found a sentry posted, who instantly 
 snapped his fusee at me ; I ran immediately towards 
 him, and he retreated through the covered way into 
 the parade within the garrison, gave a halloo, and 
 ran under a bomb-proof. My party, who followed 
 me into the fort, I formed on the parade in such a 
 manner as to face the two barracks which faced 
 each other. 
 
 The garrison being asleep, except the sentries, we 
 gave three huzzas which greatly surprised them. 
 One of the sentries made a pass at one of my offi- 
 cers with a charge'l bayonet, and slightly wounded 
 him: My first thought was to kill him with my 
 sword; but, in an instant, I altered the design and 
 fury of tin' blow to a slight cut on the side of the 
 head, upon which he dropped his gun, and asked 
 quarter, -which I readily granted him, and demanded 
 of him the place where the commanding officer kept; 
 he shewed me a pair of stairs in the front of a bar- 
 rack, on the west part of the garrison, which led up 
 to a second story m said barrack, to which I imme- 
 diately repaired, and ordered the commander, Capt. 
 De la Place, to come forth instantly, or I would 
 sacrifice the whole garrison ; at which the Capt. 
 came immediately to the door, with his breeches in 
 his hand; when I ordered him to deliver me the fort 
 instantly; he asked me by what authority I 
 demanded it: I answered him, "In the name of the 
 Great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress." The 
 authority of the Congress being very little known 
 at that time, he began to speak again ; but I inter- 
 rupted him, and with my drawn sword over his 
 head, again demanded an immediate surrender of 
 the garrison: with which he then complied, and 
 
 vol. I. — 14 
 
 ordered his men to be forthwith paraded without 
 arms, as he had given up the garrison. In the mean 
 time some of my officers had given orders, and in 
 consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors 
 were beat down, and about one third of the garri- 
 son imprisoned, which consisted of the said com- 
 mander, a Lieut. Feltlmm, a conductor of artillery, 
 a gunner, two Serjeants, and forty-four rank and file; 
 about one hundred pieces of cannon, one thirteen 
 inch mortar, and a number of swivels. This sur- 
 prise was carried into execution in the grey of the 
 morning of the tenth of May, 1775. The sun seemed 
 to rise that morning with a superior lustre; and 
 Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled to its con- 
 querors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and 
 wished success to Congress, and the liberty and free 
 dom of America. 
 
 FEAMCIS nOPKINSOX. 
 Hopkixsox, the author of The Pretty Story, 
 and the famous ballad, The Battle of the Kerjn, 
 was one of the prime wits of the Revolution, and 
 may be ranked alongside of Trumbull for his effi- 
 ciency in the cause. The genius of the two men 
 may be readily distinguished. They had wit and 
 humor in different combinations. The author of 
 MTiiigal had more of the power, Hopkinson a 
 larger proportion of that gentle quality whicli 
 plays around the heart. The one had the advan- 
 tage in verse, the other in prose. The works of 
 both remain eminent ornaments of the literature 
 of their country. We have had nothing better in 
 their way since. 
 
 aSc^LcYi ^SZ^CTi. 
 
 ^<> 
 
 Francis Hopkinson was born in Philadelphia in 
 1738. His father, Thomas, was an Englishman, 
 wlio emigrated to that city, having secured, it is 
 said, government patronage through his marriage 
 with the niece of the Bishop of Worcester. He 
 assisted Franklin in his discoveries in electricity, 
 and actively promoted the liberal improvements 
 of the day. Upon his death his widow directed 
 the education of the son who was sent to the Col- 
 lege, since the University of Pennsylvania. He 
 afterwards studied law. In 1701 he served as 
 secretary in a conference held on the banks of the 
 Lehigh, between the government of Pennsylvania 
 and several Indian nations. One of his former 
 
210 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The Treaty, celebrates the event. In 17G5 he 
 was in England, remaining there two years, and 
 passing his time between town and country. On 
 his return to America he resided at Bordentown, 
 New Jersey, where he married Miss Ann Borden 
 of that place. His Pretty Story, written in 
 the fashion of Arbuthnot's John Bull, though in a 
 milder vein, was published with great success in 
 a pamphlet in 1774. It represents England as a 
 nobleman, possessed of a valuable farm, and with 
 a great number of children and grandchildren, for 
 the government of whom he had entered into 
 various compacts. Parliament is represented as 
 his wife, chosen for him every seven years by the 
 family. The fortunes of the American settlers are 
 depicted, and the encroachments of parliament 
 none the less forcibly presented in the humorous 
 description. The chapters end with a br> 'ken pro- 
 phetic sentence : " These harsh and unconstitu- 
 tional proceedings of the overseer so highly irri- 
 tated Jack, and the other families of the new farm, 
 that******. Cetera desunt." The author's " Pro- 
 phecy," in 1776, and "Political Catechism" in 
 1777, helped to work out the sequel. The latter 
 is a set of queries and answers respecting Lord 
 North and the conduct of the war, ending with a 
 tribute to "Washington. " Who has the chief 
 command of the American army?" " His Excel- 
 lency General Washington!" " What is his cha- 
 racter?" "To him the title of Excellency is 
 applied with peculiar propriety. He is the best 
 and the greatest man the world ever knew. In 
 private life lie wins the hearts and wears the love 
 of all who are so happy as to fall within the circle 
 of his acquaintance. In his public character he 
 commands universal respect and admiration. 
 Conscious that the principles on which he acts are 
 indeed founded in virtue and truth, he steadily 
 .pursues the arduous work with a mind neither 
 depressed by disappointment and difficulties, nor 
 elated with temporary success. He retreats like 
 a General, and attacks like a Hero. Had he lived 
 in the days of idolatry he had been worshipped as 
 a God. One age cannot do justice to his merit; 
 but a grateful posterity shall, for a succession of 
 ages, remember the great deliverer of his coun- 
 try." Hopkinson represented New Jersey in the 
 general Congress of 1770, and signed the Declara- 
 tion of Independence. His Battle of the Kegs, 
 written about this time, and celebrating an actual 
 incident, has been the most popular of American 
 Revolutionary ballads. His humorous handling 
 of Rivington, the royal printer at New York, is 
 among his best political squibs. 
 
 When the war was concluded, a new general 
 government was to be established and local diffi- 
 culties overcome. Hopkinson 's pen here achieved 
 some of its greatest triumphs in exposing the dis- 
 sensions and absurdities of state politicians. His 
 New Roof, an allegory, containing in substance 
 the arguments of the debate in the Convention 
 of Pennsylvania in 1787, met to consider the 
 Constitution of the United States, is a masterly 
 production, and his song on the subject has hap- 
 pily preserved its spirit in verse. 
 
 His sharp raillery in his essays did much to miti- 
 gate the excessive litigation and newspaper con- 
 troversies of the day. In his Typographical Mode 
 of Conducting a Quarrel lie anticipated Southey's 
 tiidiion of telling his Bear story in the Doctor, 
 
 by gradations of type. The paper made two 
 belligerents of the day, a merchant and a lawyer, 
 who were oppressing the public in the newspapers, 
 ridiculous. It proposed a new style of printing for 
 different degrees of abuse and invective — various 
 t3*pe, from five line pica to minion, through 
 French canon downwards. " There is no look- 
 ing," says he, "at the first page of the Daily Ad- 
 vertiser, without imagining a number of people 
 hollowing and bawling to j-ou to buy their goods 
 or lands, to charter their ship's, or to inform you 
 that a servant or a horse hath strayed away. 
 For my part, I am so possessed with this idea, 
 that as soon as I take up the paper of the da} - , I 
 turn over to articles of intelligence as quick as 
 possible, lest my eyes should be stunned by the 
 ocular uproar of the first page." His Tlioughts 
 on the hisease of the Mind ; with a scheme for 
 purging the moral faculties of the good people of 
 Pennsylvania, proposes that a weekly and daily 
 newspaper should be expressly set apart and ac- 
 knowledged as receptacles for all the filth and 
 scandal of the town. The treatment is rather 
 Swiftian, in occasional coarseness, but the satire 
 is truthful. He compares the humors of the 
 mind to the secretions of the body: "A sarcasm 
 is nothing more than spitting, — and so it is usual 
 to say, 'he has spit his spite.' A crude attempt 
 at humor is parallel with blowing one's nose, for 
 such humors are apt to collect in cold constitu- 
 tions ; and a young poetaster may be put into a 
 considerable perspiration by the scorching flames 
 of love." Hopkinson was a reformer in the cause 
 of education, and wrote various papers laughing 
 at its grammatical, metaphysical, and scientific 
 perplexities. His Modern Learning : exemplified 
 by a spiecimen of a collegiate examination, in 
 which a salt-box is put through the various cate- 
 gories of the sciences, is the best of his papers 
 of this class. In his sketches of the minor 
 morals and manners of the day, he was equally 
 happy. His Essay on White-Washing was mis- 
 taken for the composition of Franklin, and pub- 
 lished among his writings. His friend, Dr. Push, 
 was a great admirer of his genius in these pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 Hopkinson took pride in his share in planning 
 the grand Fourth of July Federal Procession 
 at Philadelphia, in 1788; a minute account of 
 which he prepared and has left in his writings. 
 In 1779 he was made Judge of the Admiralty of 
 Pennsylvania. His decisions while in office were 
 collected by him for the edition of his writings. 
 In 1790 he was appointed by the President, 
 Judgeof the District Court. He died the follow- 
 ing year, May 9, of an apoplectic fit. Before his 
 death he had prepared the carefully arranged 
 collection of his literary productions for the press, 
 which was published by Dobson in Philadelphia, 
 "in the dress in which he left them," in three 
 octavo volumes in 1792, hearing the title: The 
 Miscellaneous Essays and Occasional Writings 
 of Francis Hopkinson, Esq. A more finbhed and 
 : accomplished work has never issued from the 
 American press. 
 
 The prose of Hopkinson is quite unique and 
 original ; simple in style, and ingenious in thought 
 and invention ; always neat and elegant in expres- 
 sion, and perfect in its gentle playfulness. His 
 poetry is of an agreeable turn, his I? Allegro and 
 
FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 
 
 211 
 
 11 Penseroso being familiar adaptations of Mil- 
 ton. Ili.s constant sensibility frequently becomes 
 eloquent ; and las verses have many ingenious 
 passages. Many of his poems are occasional ad- 
 dresses to the fair, in which the charms of Delia 
 and Rosalinda have every attention paid to them. 
 
 In person, Eopkinson is described as a lively 
 man, a little below the common size, with small 
 but animated features.* He had many general 
 accomplishments, in music, painting, and conver- 
 sation. As a kindly trait of his character, it is 
 told that he had a pet mouse which would come 
 to him at table, and that his familiar pigeons were 
 quite famous.T He corresponded on novelties in 
 science, for which he had a decided taste, with 
 Franklin and Jefferson. His portrait, from which 
 our vignette is taken, is painted by Pine. 
 
 His son, Joseph Hopkinson, wrote the song, 
 Hail Columbia. 
 
 A LETTER FROM A GENTLEMAN IN AMERICA, TO IIIS FRIEND IN 
 EUROPE, ON WHITE-WASHING. 
 
 Dear Sir. — The peculiar customs of every country 
 appear to strangers awkward and absurd, but the in- 
 habitants consider them as very proper and even 
 necessary. Long habit imposes ou the understand- 
 ing, and reconciles it to any thing that is not mani- 
 festly pernicious or immediately destructive. 
 
 The religion of a country is scarcely held in 
 greater veneration than its established customs: 
 and it is almost as difficult to produce an alteration 
 in the o.ie as in the other. Any interference of 
 government for the reformation of national customs, 
 however trivial and absurd they may be, never fails 
 to produce the greatest discontent, and sometimes 
 dangerous convulsions. Of this there are frequent 
 instances in history. Bad habits are most safely 
 remove 1 by the same means that established them, 
 via. by imperceptible gradations, and the constant 
 example and influence of the higher class of the 
 people/ 
 
 We are apt to conclude that the fashions ami man- 
 ners of our own country are most rational and pro- 
 per, because the eye and the understanding have 
 long since been reconciled to them, and we ridicule 
 or condemn those of other nations on account of 
 their novelty: yet the foreigner will defend ins 
 national habits with at least as much plausibility as 
 we can our own. The truth is, that reason has 
 little to do in the matter. Customs are for the 
 most part arbitrary, and one nation has as good a 
 right to fix its peculiarities as another. It is of no 
 purpose to talk of convenience as a standard : 
 every thing becomes convenient by practice and 
 habit. 
 
 1 have read somewhere of a nation (in Africa, I 
 think) which is governed by twelve counsellors. 
 When these counsellors are to meet on public busi- 
 ness, twelve large earthen jars are set in two rows, 
 and filled with water. The counsellors enter the 
 apartment one after another, stark naked, and each 
 
 * " At Mr. Peale's painter's room I met Mr. Francis Hop- 
 kinson, late a Mandamus Counsellor of New Jersey, now a 
 member of the Continental Congress, who. it seems, is a native 
 el' Philadelphia; a son of a protnonotary of this country, who 
 was a person much respected. The son was liberally educated, 
 and is a painter and a poe,t. I have a curiosity to penetrate 
 a little deeper into the bosom of this curious gentleman. He is 
 one of your pretty, little, curious, ingenious men. His head is 
 not bigger than a large apple, less than our friend Pemberton, 
 or Doctor Simon Tufts. I have not met with anything in 
 natural history more amusing and entertaining than his per- 
 sonal appearance — yet he is genteel and well bred, and is very 
 Social." — John Adams to his wife. Phila. Aug. 21, 1776. 
 
 t Delaplaine's Repository, Art. Hopkinson. 
 
 leaps into a jar, where he sits up to the chin in 
 water. When the jars are all filled witli counsellors, 
 they proceed to deliberate on the great concerns of 
 the nation. This, to be sure, forms a very grotesque 
 scene; but the object is to transact the public busi- 
 ness: they have been accustomed to do it in this 
 way, and therefore it appears to them the most 
 rational and convenient way. Indeed, if we con- 
 sider it impartially, there seems to be no reason 
 why a counsellor may not be as wise in an earthen 
 jar as in an elbow chair ; or why the good of the 
 people may not be as maturely considered in the 
 one as in the other. , 
 
 The established manners of every country are the 
 standards of propriety with the people who have 
 adopted them ; and every nation assumes the right 
 , of considering all deviations therefrom as barba- 
 risms and absurdities. 
 
 The Chinese have retained their laws and customs 
 for ages immemorial: and although they have long 
 had a commercial intercourse with European na- 
 j tions, and are well acquainted with their improve- 
 ments in the arts, and their modes of civilization, 
 yet they are so far from being convinced of any 
 superiority in the European manners, that their 
 government takes the most serious measures to pre- 
 vent the customs of foreigners taking root amongst 
 them. It employs their utmost vigilance to enjoy 
 the benefits of commerce, and at the same time guard 
 against innovations that might affect the charac- 
 teristic manners of the people. 
 
 Since the discovery of the Sandwich islands in the 
 South-Sea, they have been visited by ships from 
 several nations ; yet the natives have shown no in- 
 clination to prefer the dress and maimers of the visi- 
 tors to their own. It is even probable that they 
 pity the ignorance of the Europeans they have 
 6een, as far removed from civilization; and value 
 themselves on the propriety and' advantage of their 
 own customs. 
 
 There is nothing new in these observations, and I 
 had no intention of making them when I sat down 
 to write, but they obtruded themselves upon me. 
 My intention was to give you some account of the 
 people of these new states ; but I am not sufficiently 
 informed for the purpose, having, as yet, seen little 
 more than the cities of New-York and Philadelphia. 
 I have discovered but few national singularities 
 amongst them. Their customs and manners are 
 nearly the same with those of England, which they 
 have long been used to copy. For, previous to the 
 late revolution, the Americans were taught from 
 their infancy to look up to the English as the pat- 
 terns of perfection in all things. 
 
 I have, however, observed one custom, which, for 
 aught I know, is peculiar to this country. An ac- 
 count of it will serve to fill up the remainder of this 
 sheet, and mny afford you some amusement. 
 
 When a young couple are about to enter on the 
 matrimonial state, a never-failing article in the mar- 
 riage treaty is, that the lady shall have and enjoy 
 the free and unmolested exercise of the rights of 
 white-washing, with all its ceremonials, privileges, 
 and appurtenances. You will wonder what this 
 privijege of white-wasthing is. I will endeavor to 
 give you an idea of the ceremony, as I have seen il 
 performed. 
 
 There is no season of the year in which the lady 
 may not, if she pleases, claim her privilege; butthr 
 latter end of May is generally fixed upon for th ■■ 
 purpose. The attentive husband may judge, by cer- 
 tain prognostics, wdien the storm is nigh at hand. II 
 the lady grows uncommonly fretful, finds fault wit! 
 the servants, is discontented with the children, an 
 complains much of the nastiness of every thing abou 
 
212 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 her: these are symptoms -which ought not to be 
 neglected, yet they sometimes go off without any 
 further effect. But if, when the husband rises in 
 the morning, he should observe in the yard, a wheel- 
 barrow, with a quantity of lime in it, or should see 
 certain buckets rilled with a solution of lime in wa- 
 ter, there is no time for hesitation. He immediately 
 locks up the apartment or closet where his papers 
 and private property are kept, and putting the key 
 .in his pocket, betakes himself to flight. A husband, 
 however beloved, becomes a perfect nuisance during 
 this season of female rage. His authority is super- 
 seded, his commission suspended, and the very 
 scullion who cleans the brasses in the kitchen be- 
 comes of more importance than him. He has 
 nothing for it but to abdicate, for a time, and run 
 from an evil which he can neither prevent nortnollify. 
 The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The 
 walls are stripped of their furniture — paintings, 
 prints, and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps 
 about the floors ; the curtains are torn from their 
 testers, the beds crammed into windows, chairs and 
 tables, bedsteads and cradles crowd the .yard; and 
 the garden fence bends beneath the weight of car- 
 pets, blankets, cloth cloaks, old coats, under petti- 
 coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the 
 lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused 
 mass for the foreground of the picture ; gridirons and 
 frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, joint 
 stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed 
 chairs. There a closet has disgorged its bowels — 
 riveted plates »and dishes, halves of china bowls, 
 cracked tumblers, broken wine-glasses, phials of for- 
 gotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds 
 and dried herbs, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of 
 departed decanters — from the rag-hole in the garret, 
 to the rat-hole in the cellar, no place escapes un- 
 rummaged. It would seem as if the day of general 
 doom was come, and the utensils of the house were 
 dragged forth to judgment. In tins tempest, the 
 words of King Lear unavoidably present themselves, 
 and might with little alteration be made strictly ap- 
 plicable. 
 
 -Let the great gods 
 
 That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads 
 Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou wretch 
 That hast within thee undivulged crimes 
 Unwhipt of jnstice- 
 
 -Close pent up guilt, 
 
 Rive your concealing continents, and ask 
 These dreadful summoners grace." 
 
 This ceremony completed, and the house tho- 
 roughly evacuated, the next operation is to smear 
 the walls and ceilings with brushes, dipped into a 
 solution of lime called white- wasu; to pour buckets 
 of water over every floor, and scratch all the par- 
 titions and wainscots with hard brushes, charged 
 with soft soap and stone-cutter's sand. 
 
 The windows by no means escape the general 
 deluge. A servant scrambles out upon the pent- 
 house, at the risk of her neck, and with a mug 
 in her hand, and a bucket within reach,' dashes 
 innumerable gallons of water against the glass 
 panes, to the great annoyance of passengers in the 
 street. 
 
 I have been told that an action at law was once 
 brought against one of these water nymphs, by a 
 person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by 
 this operation: but after long argument it was de- 
 termined that no damages could be awarded ; inas- 
 much as the defendant was in the exercise of a legal 
 right, and not answerable for the consequences. 
 And so the poor gentleman was doubly nonsuited ; 
 for he lost both his suit of clothes and his suit at 
 law 
 
 These smearings and seratchings, these washings 
 and dashings, being duly performed, the next cere- 
 monial is to cleanse and replace the distracted furni- 
 ture. You may have seen a house-raising, or a ship- 
 launch — recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, con- 
 fusion, and noise of such a scene, and you will have 
 some idea of this cleansing match. Ihe misfortune 
 is, that the sole object is to make things clean. It 
 matters not how many useful, ornamental, or valua- 
 ble articles suffer mutilation or death under the ope- 
 ration. A mahogany chair and a carved frame un- 
 dergo the same discipline ; they are to be made clean 
 at all events; but their preservation is not worthy 
 of attention. For instance: a fine large engraving 
 is laid flat upon the floor; a number of smaller 
 prints are piled upon it, until the super-incumbent 
 w r eight cracks the lower glass — but this is of no im- 
 portance. A valuable picture is placed leaning 
 against the sharp corner of a table; others are made 
 to lean against that, till the pressure of the whole 
 forces the corner of the table through the canvas of 
 the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to 
 be cleaned ; the spirit and oil used on this occasion 
 are suffered to leak through and deface the en- 
 graving — no matter! If the glass is clean and the 
 frame shines it is sufficient — the rest is not worthy 
 of consideration. An able arithmetician hath made 
 a calculation, founded on long exerience, and proved 
 that the losses and destruction incident to two 
 white-washings are equal to one removal, and three 
 removals equal to one fire. 
 
 This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume 
 their pristine appearance: the storm abates, and all 
 would be well again : but it is impossible that so 
 great a convulsion in so small a community should 
 pass over without producing some consequences. 
 For two or three weeks after the operation, the 
 family are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore 
 throats, or severe colds, occasioned by exhalations 
 from wet floors and damp walls. 
 
 I know a gentleman here who is fond of account- 
 ing for every thing in a philosophical way. He 
 considers this, what I call a custom, as a real, period- 
 ical disease, peculiar to the climate. His train of 
 reasoning is whimsical and ingenious, but I am not 
 at leisure to give you the detail. The result was, 
 that he found the distemper to be incut able; but 
 after much study, he thought he had discoveted a 
 method to divert the evil he could not subdue. For 
 this purpose, he caused a small building, about 
 twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and 
 furnished with some ordinary chairs and tables, and 
 a few prints of the cheapest sort. His ho] e was, 
 that when the white-washing frenzy seized Ihe 
 females of his family, they might repair to 1his 
 apartment, and scrub, and scour, and smear lo their 
 hearts' content; and so spend the violence of the 
 disease in this out-post, whilst he enjoyed himself in 
 quiet at head-quarters. But the experiment did 
 not answer his expectation. It was impossible it 
 should, since a principal part of the gratification 
 consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled right 
 to torment her husband, at least once in every year; 
 to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of go- 
 vernment into her own hands. 
 
 There is a much better contrivance 4han this of 
 the philosopher's: which is, to cover the walls of 
 the house with paper. This is generally done. And 
 though it does not abolish, it .at least shortens the 
 period of female dominion. This paper is decorated 
 with various fancies, and made so ornamental that 
 the women have admitted the fashion without per- 
 ceiving the design. 
 
 There is also another alleviation of the husband's 
 distress. He generally has the sole use of a small 
 
FRANCIS IIO?KL\SOX. 
 
 213 
 
 room or closet for liis books and papers, the key of 
 which ho is allowed to keep. This is considered as 
 a privileged place, even in the white-washing sea- 
 son, and stands like the land of Goshen amidst the 
 plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely 
 cautious, and ever upon his guard ; for should he in- 
 advertently go abroad, and leave the key in his 
 door, the house-maid, who is alwa) T s on the watdi 
 for such an opportunity, immediately enters in tri- 
 umph with buckets, brooms, and brushes — takes 
 possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all 
 his books and papers to rights, to his utter con- 
 fusion, and sometimes serious detriment. I can give 
 you an instance. 
 
 A gentleman was sued at law, by the executors of 
 a mechanic, on a charge found against him on the 
 deceased's books to the amount of £30. The de- 
 fendant was strongly impresse 1 witli a belief that 
 he had discharged the debt and taken a receipt ; 
 but as the transaction was of long standing, he 
 knew not where to find the receipt. The suit went 
 on in course, and the time approached when judg- 
 ment should be obtained against him. He then sat 
 down seriously to examine a large bundle of old 
 papers, which he had untied and displayed on a 
 table for the purpose. In the midst of his search he 
 was suddenly called away on business of impor- 
 tance. He forgot to lock the door of his room. The 
 house-maid, who had been long looking for sueh an 
 opportunity, immediately entered with the usual 
 implements, and with great alacrity fell to cleaning 
 the room and putting things to rights. One of the 
 first objects that struck her eye was the confused 
 situation of the papers on the table. These, without 
 delay, she huddled together like so many dirty 
 knives and forks; but in the action, a small piece 
 of paper fell unnoticed on the floor, which uu-' 
 fortunately happened to be the very receipt in 
 question. As it had no very respectable appear- 
 ance, it was soon after swept out with the common 
 dirt of the room, and carried in a dust-pan to the 
 j-ard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the 
 credit in his books. The defendant could find 
 nothing to obviate the* charge, and so judgment 
 went against him for debt and costs. A fortnight 
 after the whole was settled, and the money paid, 
 one of the children found the receipt amongst the 
 dirt in the yard. 
 
 There is also another custom, peculiar to the city 
 of Philadelphia, and nearly allied with the former. 
 I mean that of washing the pavements before the 
 doors every Saturday evening. I at first supposed 
 this to be a regulation of the police; but, on further 
 inquiry, I find it is a religious rite preparatory to 
 the Sabbath : and it is, I believe, the only religious 
 rite in which the numerous sectaries of this large 
 city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about 
 sunset and continues till ten or eleven at night. It 
 is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on 
 those evenings. He runs a continual risk of having 
 a bucket of dirty water dashed against his legs; but 
 a Philadelphian born is so much accustomed to the 
 danger that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. 
 It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian 
 may be known any where by a certain skip in his 
 gait. The streets of New York are paved with 
 rough stones. Tliese, indeed, are not washed, but 
 the dirt is so thoroughly swept from between them 
 that they stand up sharp and prominent, to the 
 great annoyance of those who are not accustomed 
 to so rough a path. But habit reconciles every 
 thing. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian 
 at New York. He walks the street with as much 
 painful caution as if his toes were covered with 
 torns, or his feet lamed* by the gout; whilst a New 
 
 Yorker, as little approving the plain masonry of 
 Philadelphia, shuffies along the pavement like a 
 parrot upon a mahogany table. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that the ablutions I 
 have mentioned are attended with no small incon- 
 venience; yet the women would not be induced by 
 any consideration to resign their privilege. 
 
 Notwithstanding this singularity, I can give you 
 the strongest assurances that the women of America 
 make the most faithful wives, and the most attentive 
 mothers in the world. And I don't doubt but you 
 will join me in opinion, that if a married man is 
 made miserable only for one week in a whole year, 
 he will have no great cause to complain of the 
 matrimonial bond. 
 
 This letter has run on to a length I did not ex- 
 pect ; I therefore hasten to assure you that I am as 
 ever, 
 
 June. 1785. Your, (fee. <fec. (fee. 
 
 MODERN LEARNING : EXEMPLIFIED BY A SPECIMEN OF A COL- 
 LEGIATE EXAMINATION. 
 
 Metaphysics. 
 
 * Pkof. What is a salt-box ? 
 
 Stu. It is a box made to contain salt. 
 
 Prof. How is it divided ? 
 
 Stu. Into a salt-box, and a box of salt. 
 
 Phof. Very welll — show the distinction? 
 
 Stu. A salt-box may be where there is no salt; 
 but salt is absolutely necessary to the existence of a 
 box of salt. 
 
 Prof. Are not salt-boxes otherwise divided ? 
 
 Stu. Yes : by a partition. 
 
 Prof. What is the use of this partition '< 
 
 Sru. To separate the coarse salt from the fine. 
 
 Prof. How ? — think a little. 
 
 Stu. To separate the fine salt from the coarse. 
 
 Prof. To be sure : — it is to separate the fine from 
 I the coarse: but are not salt-boxes yet otherwise 
 distinguished ? 
 
 Stu. Yes : into possible, probable, and positive. 
 
 Prof. Define these several kinds of salt-boxes. 
 
 Stu. A possible salt-box is a salt-box yet unsold 
 in the hands of the joiner. 
 
 Pkof. Why so? 
 
 Stu. Because it hath never yet become a salt-box 
 in fact, having never had any salt in it; and it may 
 possibly be applied to some other use. 
 
 Prof. Very true : — for a salt-box which never had, 
 hath not now, and perhaps never may have, auy 
 salt in it, can only be termed a possible salt-box. 
 What is a probable salt-box? 
 
 Stu. It is a salt-box in the hand of one going to 
 a shop to buy salt, and who hath six-pence in his 
 pocket to pay the grocer : and a positive salt-box is 
 one which hath actually ami bona fide got salt in it. 
 
 Peof. Very good : — but is there no instance of a 
 positive salt-box which hath no salt in it ? 
 
 Stu. I know of none. 
 
 Prof. Yes: there is one mentioned bv some authors: 
 it is where a box hath by long use been so impreg- 
 nated with salt, that although all the salt hath been 
 long since emptied out, it may yet be called a salt- 
 box, with the same propriety that we say a salt 
 herring, salt beef, (fee. And in this sense any box 
 that may have accidentally, or otherwise, been long 
 steeped in brine, may be termed positively a salt- 
 box, although never designed for the purpose of 
 keeping salt. But tell me, what other division of 
 salt-boxes do you recollect ? 
 
 Stu. They are further divided into substantive and 
 
 * Prof, professor; Stu. student; Gov. governor of the insti- 
 tution. 
 
214 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN -LITERATURE 
 
 pendant : a substantive salt-box is that which stands 
 by itself on the table or dresser ; and a pendant is 
 that which hangs upon a nail against the wall. 
 
 Prof. What is the idea of a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. It is that image which the mind conceives 
 of a salt-box, when no salt-box is present. 
 
 Prof. What is the abstract idea of a salt-box ? 
 
 Stu. It is the idea of a salt-box, abstracted from 
 the idea of a box, or of salt, or of a salt-box, or of a 
 box of salt. 
 
 Peof. Very right: — and by these means you ac- 
 quire a most perfect knowledge of a salt-box : but 
 tell me, is the idea of a salt-box a salt idea ? 
 
 Stu. Not unless the ideal box hath ideal salt in it. 
 
 Peof. True: — and therefore an abstract idea can- 
 not be either salt or fresh ; round or square ; long or 
 short : for a true abstract idea must be entirely free 
 of all adjuncts. And this shows the difference be- 
 tween a salt idea, and an idea of salt. — Is an apti- 
 tude to hold salt an essential or an accidental pro- 
 perty of a salt-box ? 
 
 Stu. It is essential; but if there should be a crack 
 in the bottom of the box, the aptitude to spill salt 
 would be termed an accidental property of that salt- 
 box. 
 
 Prof. Very well ! very well indeed ! — What is the 
 salt called with respect to the box? 
 
 Stu. It is called its contents. 
 
 Peof. And why so ? 
 
 Stu. Because the cook is content quoad hoc to 
 find plenty of salt in the box. 
 
 Peof. You are very right: — I see you have not 
 misspent your time: let us now proceed to 
 
 Logic. 
 
 Peof. How many parts are there in a salt-box ? 
 
 Stu. Three. Bottom, top, and sides. 
 
 Prof. How many modes are there in salt-boxes ? 
 
 Stu. Four. The formal, the substantial, the acci- 
 dental, and the topsey-turvey. 
 
 Peof. Define these several modes. 
 
 Stu. The /ormaZ respects the figure or shape of 
 the box, such as round, square, oblong, and so forth ; 
 the substantial respects the work of the joiner; and 
 the accidental depends upon the string by which the 
 box is hung against the wall. 
 
 Peof. Very well. — And what are the consequences 
 of the accidental mode? 
 
 Stu. If the string should break the box would fall, 
 the salt be spilt, the salt-box broken, and the cook 
 in a bitter passion : and this is the accidental mode 
 with its consequences. 
 
 Peof. How do you distinguish between the top 
 and bottom of a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. The top of the box is that part which is 
 uppermost, and the bottom that part which is lowest 
 in all positions. 
 
 Peof. You should rather sny the lowest part is 
 the bottom, and the uppermost part is the top. — How 
 is it then if the bottom should be the uppermost ? 
 
 Stu. The top would then be the lowermost; and 
 so the bottom would become the top, and the top 
 would become the bottom : and this is called the top- 
 sey-turvey mode, which is nearly allied to the acciden- 
 tal, and frequently arises from it. 
 
 Peof. Very good. — But are not salt-boxes some- 
 times single and sometimes double ? 
 
 Stu. Yes. 
 
 Peof. Well, then mention the several combina- 
 tions of salt-boxes with respect to their having salt 
 or not. 
 
 Stu. They are divided into single salt-boxes 
 having salt; single salt-boxes having no salt; double 
 salt-boxes having salt ; double salt^boxes having no 
 
 salt ; and single double salt-boxes having salt and 
 no salt. 
 
 Prof. Hold ! hold ! — you are going too far. 
 
 Gov. We cannot allow further time for logic, 
 proceed if you please to 
 
 Natural Philosophy. 
 
 Peof. Pray, Sir, what is a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. It is a combination of matter, fitted, framed, 
 and joined by the hands of a workman in the form 
 of a box, and adapted to the purpose of receiving, 
 containing, and retaining salt. 
 
 Peof. Very good. — What are the mechanical 
 powers concerned in the construction of a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. The ax, the saw, the plane, and the hammer. 
 
 Peof. How are these powers applied to the pur- 
 pose intended ? 
 
 Stu. The ax to fell the tree, the saw to split the 
 timber. 
 
 Prof. Consider. Is it the property of the mall 
 and wedge to split? 
 
 Stu. The saw to slit the timber, the plane to 
 smooth and thin the boards. 
 
 Prof. How ! Take time ! Take time ! 
 
 Stu. To thin and smooth the boards. 
 
 Peof. To be sure — the boards are first thinned 
 and then smoothed — go on — 
 
 Stu. The plane to thin and smooth the boards, 
 and the hammer to drive the nails. 
 
 Peof. Or rather tacks. — Have not some philoso- 
 phers considered glue as one of the mechanical 
 powers ? 
 
 Stu. Yes ; and it is still so considered, but it is 
 called an inverse mechanical power : because, where- 
 as it is the property of the direct mechanical powers 
 to generate motion, and separate parts ; glue, on the 
 contrary, prevents motion, and keeps the parts to 
 which it is applied'fixed to each other. 
 
 Prof. Very true. — What is the mechanical law of 
 the saw ? 
 
 Stu. The power is to the resistance, as the num- 
 ber of teeth and force impressed multiplied by the 
 number of strokes in a given time. 
 
 Peof. Is the saw only used in slitting timber into 
 boards ? 
 
 Stu. Yes, it is also employed in cutting boards 
 into lengths. 
 
 Peof. Not lengths : a thing cannot properly be 
 said to have been cut into lengths. 
 
 Stu. Into shortnesses. 
 
 Prof. Certainly — into shortnesses. Well, what 
 are the mechanical laws of the hammer ? 
 
 Gov. The time wastes fast; pass on to another 
 science. 
 
 Mathematics. 
 
 Peof. What is a salt-box ? 
 
 Stu. It is a figure composed of lines and surfaces. 
 
 Prof. What are the external figures of a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. Four parallelograms and two squares. 
 
 Prof. How are these disposed? 
 
 Stu. The four parallelograms are thus disposed : 
 The superior, or top ; the anterior, or front ; the in- 
 ferior, or bottom; and the posterior, or "back; and 
 the two squares form the two ends. 
 
 Peof. Very good. — Let us now consider one of the 
 squares at the end of the salt-box. Suppose then a 
 diagonal line to be drawn from one of the angles of 
 this square to the opposite angle of the same, what 
 will be the consequence ? 
 
 Stu. It will divide the square into two equal and 
 similar triangles. 
 
 Peof. Very true. — But can you demonstrate that 
 these two equal and similar triangles are equal to 
 each other ? 
 
FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 
 
 215 
 
 Stu. I draw the square ABCD, whose sides are 
 ■ B all equal, and the contained an- 
 gles, all right angles. I then 
 draw the diagonal B G, dividing 
 the square into two equal parts. 
 Then I say, that one of those 
 equal parts, viz. the triangle 
 A B C is equal to the other equal 
 D part or triangle BCD; and fur- 
 ther, that those two triangles are not only equal 
 but similar. For by the 105th proposition of the 
 49th Book of Euclid, if in two triangles, all the 
 lines and angles of the one, are equal to all the 
 corresponding lines and angles of the other, those 
 two triangles will be equal and similar. But the leg 
 A B of the triangle A B C, is equal to the leg C I) 
 of the triangle B C D, because they are two of the 
 sides of the square ABCD, equal by construction : 
 and. the leg A C is equal to the leg B D for the same 
 reason ; and because the hypothenuse B C is com- 
 mon to both triangles, therefore the hypothenuse of 
 the triangle A B C is equal to the hypothenuse of 
 the triangle BCD. Now, because by the 115th 
 proposition of the same book, equal legs subtend 
 equal angles of the same radii ; it follows, that all 
 the angles of the triangle ABC are equal to the 
 corresponding angles of the triangle B D C : ergo, 
 those two triangles are equal aud similar : and ergo, 
 if a square be cut by a diagonal line into two equal 
 parts, those parts will be equal. Q E D. 
 
 Prof. Very well ! very well indeed ! — Suppose 
 now a right line to be let fall from a given point 
 above a salt-box, till it shall touch the superior pa- 
 rallelogram, and another right line to be let fall from 
 the same point till it should touch the inferior pa- 
 rallelogram of the same salt-box, can you demon- 
 strate that these two lines must be unequal : or, in 
 other words, can you prove that a line of 12 iuches 
 is shorter than a line of 18 inches in length ? 
 
 Stu. If two lines — 
 
 Gov. We have just received intelligence that 
 dinner is almost ready ; aud as the medical class is 
 yet to be examined, we cannot afford- time for this 
 demonstration. Let the medical gentlemen come 
 forward. 
 
 Anatomy. 
 
 Prof. What is a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. It is a body composed of wood, glue, nails, 
 and hinges. 
 
 Prof. How is this body divided ? 
 
 Stu. Into external and internal. 
 
 Prof. Very good — external and internal — very 
 proper indeed. — Aud what are the external parts of 
 a salt-box? 
 
 Stu. One fundamental, four laterals, and one 
 superlateral. 
 
 Prof. And how do you find the internal parts of a 
 salt-box? 
 
 Stu. Divided by a vertical membrane or partition 
 into two large cavities or sinuses. 
 
 Prof. Are these cavities always equal? 
 
 Stu. They used to be so formerly ; but modern 
 joiners have thought it best to have them unequal, for 
 the more convenient accommodation of the viscera 
 or contents ; the larger cavity for the reception of 
 the coarser viscera, and the smaller for the tine. 
 
 Prof. Very true — thus have modern joiners, by 
 their improvements, excelled the first maker of salt- 
 boxes. — Tell me now what peculiarity do you ob- 
 serve in the superlateral member of n salt- box? 
 
 Stu. Whereas all the other members are fixed and 
 stationary with respect to each other, the superla- 
 teral is moveable on a pair of hinges. 
 
 Prof. To what purpose is it bo constructed? ' 
 
 Stu. For the admission, retention, and emission of 
 the saline particles. 
 
 Gov. This is sufficient — our time is short — dinner 
 must not wait — let us now proceed to 
 
 Surgery, and Vie Practize of Physic. 
 
 Prof. Mention a few of the principal disorders 
 to which a salt-box is liable ? 
 
 Stu. A cracked and leaky fundamental ; a gaping 
 of the joint in the laterals ; luxation of the hinges : 
 and an accession and concretion of filth and foulness 
 external and internal. 
 
 Prof. Very well. — How would you treat those 
 disorders ? — begin with the first. 
 
 Stu. I would caulk the leak fundamental with 
 pledgets of tow, which I would secure in the fissure 
 by a strip of linen or paper pasted over. For the 
 starting of the lateral joints, I would administer 
 powerful astringents, such as the gluten corneum ; 
 and would bind the parts together by triple bandages 
 until the joints should knit. 
 
 Prof. Would you not assist with chalybeates ? 
 
 Stu. Yes — I would at — tack the disease with pre- 
 pared iron, in doses proportioned to the strength of 
 the parts. 
 
 Prof. How would you manage the luxation of the 
 hinge ? 
 
 Stu. I would first examine whether it was oc- 
 casioned by the starting of the points which annex 
 the processes to the superlateral or its antagonist, or 
 to a loss of the fulcrum, or to an absolute fracture 
 of the sutures. In the first case, I would secure the 
 process by a screw ; in the second, I would bring the 
 sutures together, and introduce the fulcrum ; and in 
 the last, I would entirely remove the fractured 
 hinge, and supply its place, pro tempore, with one 
 of leather. 
 
 Prof. Very well, sir ! — very well ! — now for your 
 treatment in case of accumulated foulness, external 
 and internal — but first tell me, how is this foulness 
 contracted ? 
 
 Stu. Externally, by the greasy hands of the cook ; 
 and internally, by the solution aud adhesion of the 
 saline particles. 
 
 Prof. True. — And now for the cure. 
 
 Stu. I would first evacuate the abominable vessel, 
 through the prima via. I would then exhibit deter- 
 gents and diluents ; such as the saponaceous pre- 
 paration, with great plenty of aquafontana. 
 
 Prof. Would not aqua coslestis do better ? 
 
 Stu. Yes — plenty oiaqita coslestis with the marine 
 sand. I would also apply the friction brush, with 
 a brisk and strong hand, until the excrementitious 
 concrete should be totally dissolved and removed. 
 
 Prof. Very proper. — What next ? 
 
 Stu. I would recommend the cold bath, by means 
 of a common pump ; and then apply lintal absorb- 
 ents; and finally, exsiccate the body by exposition 
 either in the sun, or before the kitchen fire. 
 
 Prof. In what situation would you leave the 
 superlateral valve during the exsiccating operation ? 
 
 Stu. I would leave it open to the extent, in order 
 that the rarefied humidities might freely exhale from 
 the abominable cavities or sinuses. 
 
 Chemistry. 
 
 Prof. You have mentioned the saponaceous pre- 
 paration — pray, how is that procured ? 
 
 Stu. By the action of a vegetable alkaline salt 
 upon a pinguidinous or unctuous substance. 
 
 Prof. What is salt? 
 
 Stu. It is a substance sui generis, pungent to the 
 taste, of an antiseptic quality, and is produced by 
 crystallization on the evaporation of the fluid in 
 which it is suspended. 
 
216 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Prof. How many kinds of salt occur in a salt- 
 box? 
 
 Stu. Two — coarse and fine. 
 
 Pkof. You have said that the saponaceous prepa- 
 ration is produced by the action of a vegetable alka- 
 line salt on a pinguidinous or unctuous substance — 
 describe the process ! 
 
 Stu. If a great quantity of strong lie be procured 
 by passing water through wood ashes, and if a very 
 large body of a pinguidinous habit should be im- 
 mersed in this lie, and exposed to a considerable 
 heat, the action of the lie, or rather the salts with 
 which it abounds, upon the jjinguidinous bod}*, 
 would cause the mixture to coagulate and — [Here 
 the examiner looked very sour, for he was very fat. .] 
 
 At this instant a servant announced that dinner 
 was on the table — the examination was concluded, 
 and the parties separated — one rejoicing in the an- 
 ticipation of a feast, and the examined happy in find- 
 ing the fiery trial over. 
 
 May, 1784 
 
 DIALOGUE OX THE ADDRESS OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 
 TO DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 [For the Pennsylvania Packet.] 
 I have perused with some attention the several 
 addresses made to the venerable Doctor Franklin, 
 by public bodies and private societies on his arrival 
 in this city. So far as they express a sense of grati- 
 tude and esteem for his integrity and abilities as a 
 public agent and a philosopher, they have my hearty 
 concurrence and approbation : but they also afford 
 some literary amusement, when considered merely 
 as compositions, with a design of observing the 
 various forms which the same subject matter may 
 assume, in passing through the varied machinery of 
 different pericraniums. 
 
 Talking on this subject with Mr. B. the address 
 of the American Philosophical Society engaged our 
 attention, as distinguished from all the others by a 
 dearth of sentiment, awkwardness of style, and ob- 
 scurity of expression. I am surprised, said I — but 
 it will be better to give it in the way of dialogue, 
 to avoid the number of said /'.5 and said Ac's. 
 
 ■A. I am surprised that our Philosophical Society, 
 from whom we might expect, on such an occasion, 
 at least ease and propriety, if not something more, 
 should exhibit so barren, so stiff, and costive a per- 
 formance, as their address seems to be : it must cer- 
 tainly have been seethed too long in the author's 
 brain, and so become hard like an over-boiled egg. 
 
 B. I perceive, sir, you are not a member of the 
 Philosophical Society. 
 
 A. So, sir; I have not that honor. 
 
 B. So I thought by your mentioning brains. Why, 
 sir, vre never make use of any in writing letters, or 
 drawing addresses : we manage these things in quite 
 a different way. How do you imagine our address 
 was produced ? 
 
 A. Some member, I suppose, was appointed to 
 draft the address, which was afterwards read before 
 the society; and being corrected, was finally aj>- 
 proved of, and so delivered. 
 
 B. "When you shall become a philosopher you will 
 know better: no, sir, we conduct all our business by 
 ballot, as they choose magistrates — according to the 
 spirit of our excellent constitution. 
 
 A. No doubt, when new members, or officers of 
 the institution are to be elected ; but how an address 
 can be composed by ballot, I confess, I cannot com- 
 prehend. 
 
 B. Well, I will inform you. You must know we 
 have four boxes : in one are put a number of sub- 
 stantives, the best the dictionary affords; in the 
 second, an equal number of adjectives ; in the third, 
 
 a great number of verbs, with their participles, ge- 
 runds, etc. ; and in the fourth, a still greater number 
 of pronouns, articles, and particles, with all the small 
 ware of the syntax. The secretary shakes these 
 boxes for a considerable time, and then places them 
 side by side on a table, each bearing its proper label 
 of distinction. This done, the members proceed to 
 ballot for the composition, whatever it may be ; 
 each member taking out one substantive, one ad- 
 jective, two verbs, and four particles from the boxes 
 respectively ; and so they proceed, repeating the 
 operation, until thej- have drawn the number of 
 words, of which, according to a previous determina- 
 tion, the composition is to consist. Some ingenious 
 member is then requested to take all the ballots or 
 words so obtained, aud arrange them in the best or- 
 der he can. In the present case, this task fell to 
 ***** . an j y OU cail gc , e }, ow ue ]i as worked up the 
 materials which chance threw in his way. 
 
 A. If this is your method it will sufficiently ac- 
 count for the short broken sentences, the harshness 
 of the periods, and general obscurity which distin- 
 guish your address. 
 
 B. What do you mean by obscurity t I am sure 
 our address, if not elegant, is at least intelligible. 
 
 A. Pray, inform me, then, what is meant by this 
 paragraph : — " The high consideration and esteem 
 in which we hold your character, so intimately com- 
 bine with our regard for the public welfare, that 
 we participate eminently in the general satisfaction 
 which your return to America produces:" — and of 
 this — " We derive encouragement and extraordinary 
 felicity from an assemblage of recent memorable 
 events : and while we boast in a most pleasing equa- 
 lity, permanently ascertained," &c, (fee. 
 
 B. The meaning of your first quotation is, that 
 our high consideration for the doctor, combining 
 and intimately mixing with our regard for the pub- 
 lic welfare, occasion .a kind of chymical solution or 
 effervescence in our minds, producing a tertium quid, 
 which causes us to participate eminently, and so on ; 
 if you know anything of ehymistry, you would have 
 understood it well enough. 
 
 A. Well ! it appears to me something very like 
 nonsense ; but, I confess, I am no philosopher. 
 
 B. As to the other passage you mentioned — the 
 truth is, we were a little unlucky — it would have 
 been the most elegant paragraph in the whole com- 
 position but for an unfortunate accident. You must 
 know, that whilst ***** was arranging the ballots, 
 a puff of wind blew away a number of excellent ex- 
 planatory words, and carried them out of the win- 
 dow ; the whole sentence had like to have gone : a 
 careful search was made in the street, but no more 
 could be recovered than what you see. It was, 
 indeed, proposed to ballot over again for as many 
 words as had been lost: but some members were 
 of opinion that this miglit prove a dangerous pre- 
 cedent, and so the passage was suffered to pass as it 
 now stands. 
 
 A. I observe further, that you mention " the 
 growth of sciences and arts;'' would it not have 
 read better, "the growth of arts and sciences;" ac- 
 cording to the usual mode of expression ? which has 
 this to justify it, that arts were known and practised 
 before sciences were investigated ; and besides, the 
 expression is more musical aud pleasing to the ear. 
 
 B. We had a long debate upon this subject; and 
 the very reasons you uow give were urged in favor 
 of the common way of placing those words ; but the 
 learned compositor insisted, that as the sciences were 
 more abstruse, and more eminent in dignity than 
 the arts, they ought to be mentioned first, especially 
 bv a philosophical society. 
 
 A. This reminds me of what the town-el erk savs 
 
FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 
 
 air 
 
 in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing : — " To. 
 CI. Write down that they hope they serve God: 
 and be sure to write God first ; for God defend, but 
 God should go before such villains." 
 
 B. It is in vain to attempt explanation to a mind 
 so prejudiced as your's. I perceive you are deter- 
 mined to find fault, and so let us drop the subject. 
 
 A. Why, do you imagine I believe one word of 
 your boxes and your ballots ? You are either ridi- 
 culing, or endeavoring to excuse a performance, 
 which would, indeed, disgrace a schoolboy. 
 
 When I compare this address with the president's 
 short but elegant reply, I cannot but observe, how 
 strongly the difference is marked between an author 
 who sits down to think what he shall write, and one 
 who only sits down to write what he thinks. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 "Wrote in a blank bonk whieb once belonsretj to Mr. SJ&nstone 
 the poet, and was given by the Lord Bis/top of Worcester. 
 
 Come little book, the giver's hand, 
 
 Shall add such worth to mine, 
 That I will hold thee highly priz'd, 
 
 And joy to call thee mine. 
 
 Come little book ; nor in my care, 
 
 An humbler lot refuse, 
 Tho' Worcester own'd thee once, tho' once 
 
 Design'd for Shcnstone's muse. 
 
 Had Shenstone in thy spotless page 
 
 In glowing numbers plac'd, 
 All that is pleasing, great, and good, 
 
 With ev'ry virtue grac'd: 
 
 Fill'd thee with gentleness and love, 
 
 With piety and truth ; 
 The wisdom of experieue'd years, 
 
 The brilliant powers of youth ; 
 
 With all the eondeseending.ease 
 
 Of manners most refin'd, ■ 
 Then liadst thou been an emblem fit, 
 
 Of Worcester's generous mind. 
 
 Come little book ; and let me boast 
 
 No small, no common fame, 
 That in thy once so honour'd page, 
 
 I write my humble name. 
 IlarUebury Castle, in Worcestershire, 1767. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A CUUECII. 
 
 As late beneath the hallow'd roof I trod, 
 Where saints in holy rapture seek their God; 
 Where heart-stung sinners smug Heav'n for grace, 
 With tears repentant consecrate the place. 
 Oh ! how my soul was struck with what I saw, 
 And shrunk within me in religious awe: 
 
 The massy walls, which seem'd to scorn the rage 
 Of battering tempests and of mouldering age : 
 In long perspective stretched, till breadth and height 
 Were almost lost in distance from the sight; 
 With monumental decorations hung. 
 They spoke mortality with silent tongue. 
 There, sorrowing seraphs heav'uward lift their eyes, 
 And little cherubs weep soft elegies. 
 I trod — and started at the mighty noise ; 
 The hollow pavement lifted up its voice ; 
 The swelling arch receiv'd the rising sound, 
 Responsive to the stroke the walls around, 
 And sent it murm'ring to the vaults around, 
 Thro' lengthen'd aisles prolong'd the solemn sound. 
 
 Far in the west, and noble to the sight. 
 The gilded organ rears its tow'ring height : 
 And hark ! methinks I from its bosom hear, 
 Soft issuing sounds that steal upon the ear 
 And float serenely on the liquid air. 
 
 Now by degrees more bold and broad they grow, 
 And riot loosely thro' the aisles below ; 
 Till the full organ lifts its utmost voice, 
 And my heart shudders at the powerful noise : 
 Like the last trump, one note is heard to sound 
 That all the massy pillars tremble round : 
 The firm fixt building shivers on its base, 
 And vast vibration tills th' astonish'd place: 
 The marble pavements seem to feel their doom, 
 And the bones rattle in each hollow tomb. 
 
 But now the blast harmonious dies away, 
 And tapers gently in a fine decay : 
 The melting sounds on higher pinions fly, 
 And seem to fall soft oozing from on high; 
 Like evening dew they gently spread around 
 And shed the sweetness of heart-thrilling sound; 
 'Till grown too soft, too fine for mortal ear, 
 The dying strains dissolve in distant air. 
 Methought I heard a flight of angels rise, 
 Most sweetly ehaunting as they gain'd the skies: 
 Methought I heard their lessening sound decay 
 And fade and melt and vanish quite away. 
 
 Hail heav'n born music ! by thy pow'r we raise 
 Th' uplifted soul to acts of highest praise ; 
 Oh ! I would die with music melting round, 
 And float to bliss upon a sea of sound. 
 
 A MORNING IIY.UN. 
 
 Once more the rising source of day, 
 Pours on the earth his genial ray: 
 Withdraws the starry veil of night, 
 And smiles on ev'ry mountain height. 
 
 Once more my soul, thy song prepare, 
 Thy God approach in praise and pray'r 
 With early voice salute the skies, 
 And on the lark's fleet pinions rise. 
 
 This hand did me from danger keep 
 When nature lay entrane'd in sleep: 
 When ev'ry sense forsook its post, 
 And reason's guardian pow'r was lost. 
 
 Soon as dark night o'erspreads the skies, 
 Cold mists and drowsy dampj arise : 
 Contagious streams their confines break, 
 And slumber o'er the sluggish lake. 
 
 Loud shrieks the melancholy owl, 
 And prowling wolves through deserts howl 
 The fancied spectre glides the green, 
 And midnight murder walks unseen. 
 
 Forlorn the wearied wand'rer strays, 
 Lost in a labyriuthian maze ; 
 Where'er he treads, is danger there, 
 And his soul sickens in despair. 
 
 Whilst slumbers soft my eye-lids close, 
 And golden dreams and sweet repose, 
 .Wear the sad hours of night away, 
 And hasten on the cheerful day. 
 
 My God ! shall not such goodness move 
 My soul to gratitude and love? 
 Or shall my heart forget to raise, 
 Her loud hosannahs to thy praise? 
 
 When shall my eager spirit rise, 
 And soar above these floating skies ? 
 Oh ! when with hosts seraphic join, 
 To sing thy majesty divine? 
 
 In realms where no returns of night, 
 Shall e'er the tim'rous soul affright? 
 But one eternal blaze of day, 
 Shines forth with unremitting ray ? 
 
218 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA Off AMERICAN - LITERATURE. 
 
 AN EVENING IirMN. 
 
 At length the busy day is done, 
 And yon bright orb, the glorious sun, 
 Deep in the west reclines his head, 
 Where misty curtains shroud his bed. 
 
 Oh! God of hosts! with this day's close, 
 How many sleep in death's repose ? 
 And with the sinking sun's decline, 
 To thee their fleeting souls resign. 
 
 Hark ! 'tis the tolling bell I hear, 
 And slow and dull it strikes mine ear: 
 E'en whilst I tune my pensive song, 
 The solemn fun'ral moves along. 
 
 He whom this night th' expecting tomb, 
 Shall wrap within its dreary gloom, 
 At yester-morn, devoid of care. 
 Up rose and breath'd the healthful air. 
 
 Gay Hope o'erlook'd the present day, 
 Prospects of years before him lay ; 
 He hasten'd distant joys to meet, 
 Nor saw the grave yawn at his feet. 
 Ambition, stop thy mad career, 
 Look on that corse and drop a tear; 
 E'en when thy hand would grasp the prize, 
 The stroke is giv'n, and glory dies. 
 
 Let Av'rice, feeble, grey and old, 
 Whilst his broad palm protects his gold, 
 Lift up his eyes, and sighing say, 
 Death is a debt we all must pay. 
 
 Let thoughtless youth, too often found, 
 In sensual jot/s enchanting round, 
 Behold, and as he trembling stands, 
 Let Pleasure's cup fall from his hands. 
 
 And thou, my soul, thy thoughts employ. 
 On God thy glory, wealth and joy : 
 "Virtue alone is stable here, 
 Nought but religion is sincere. 
 
 When mortal pangs his frame shall seize, 
 And the chill'd blood begins to freeze; 
 When my fixt eyes must roll no more, 
 And life escapes thro' ev'ry pore. 
 
 Ah ! what shall cheer my drooping heart \ 
 Shall worldly honours joy impart? 
 Can sensual pleasure sweeten death, 
 Or wealth redeem one parting breath 8 
 
 Therefore, my soul, thy. thoughts employ, 
 On God, thy Glory, wealth and joy : 
 Virtue alone is stable here, 
 Nought but religion is sincere. 
 
 AN EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT. 
 
 Sleep on, sweet babe ! no dreams annoy thy rest, 
 Thy spirit flew unsullied from thy breast : 
 Sleep on, sweet innocent! nor shalt thou dread 
 The passing storm that thunders o'er thy head : 
 Thro' the bright regions of yon azure sky, 
 A winged seraph, now she soars on high; 
 Or, on the bosom of a cloud reclin'd, 
 She rides triumphant on the rapid wind ; 
 Or from its source pursues the radiant day ; 
 Or on a sun-beam, smoothly glides away; 
 Or mounts aerial to her blest abode, 
 And sings, inspir'd, the praises of her God: 
 Unveiled thence, to her extensive eye, 
 Nature, and Nature's Laws, expanded lie: 
 Death, in one moment, taught this infant mora 
 Than years or ages ever taught before. 
 
 A CAMP-BALLAD. 
 
 Make room, oh! ye kingdoms in hist'ry renowned 
 Whose arms have in battle with glory been crown'd, 
 
 I Make room for America, another great nation, 
 Arises to claim in your council a station. 
 
 Her sons fought for - freedom, and by their own 
 
 brav'ry 
 Have rescued themselves from the shackles of 
 
 slav'ry, 
 America's free, and tho' Britain abhor'd it, 
 Yet fame a new volume prepares to record it. 
 
 Fair freedom in Britain her throne had erected, 
 But her sons growing venal, and she disrespected; 
 The goddess offended forsook the base nation, 
 And fix'd on our mountains a more honour'd station. 
 
 With glory immortal she here sits enthron'd, 
 Nor fears the vain vengeance of Britain disown'd, 
 Whilst Washington guards her with heroes sur- 
 rounded, 
 Her foes shall with shameful defeat be confounded. 
 
 To arms then, to arms, 'tis fair freedom invites us ; 
 The trumpet shrill sounding to battle excites us ; 
 The banners of virtue imfurl'd, shall wave o'er us. 
 Our hero lead on, and the foe fly before us. 
 
 On Heav'n and Washington placing reliance, 
 We'll meet the bold Briton, and bid him defiance. 
 Our cause we'll support, for 'tis just and 'tis glorious 
 When men fight for freedom they must be vic- 
 torious. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.* 
 
 Gallants attend and hear a friend, 
 
 Trill forth harmonious ditty, 
 Strange things I'll tell which late bci'cl 
 
 In Philadelphia city. 
 
 'Twas early day, as poets say, 
 
 Just when the sun was rising, 
 A soldier stood on a log of wood, 
 
 And saw a thing surprising. 
 
 As in amaze he stood to gaze, 
 
 The truth can't be denied, sir, 
 He spied a score of kegs or more 
 
 Come floating down the tide, sir. 
 
 A sailor too in jerkin blue, 
 
 This strange appearance viewing, 
 
 First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise, 
 Then said, " Some mischief 's brewing. 
 
 " These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold, 
 Paek'd up like pickled herring ; 
 And they're come down t' attack the town, 
 In this new way of ferrying." 
 
 The soldier flew, the sailor too, 
 
 And scar'd almost to death, sir, 
 Wore out their shoes, to spread the news, 
 
 And ran till out of breath, sir. 
 
 Now up and down throughout the town, 
 
 Most frantic scenes were acted ; 
 And some ran here, and others there, 
 
 Like men almost distracted. 
 
 Some fire ery'd, which some denied, 
 
 But said the earth had quaked ; 
 And girls and boys, with hideous noise, 
 
 Ran thro' the streets half naked. 
 
 * This ballad was occasioned by a real incident Certain 
 machine?, in the form of kesrs. charged with gunpowder, were 
 sent rlowD the rivei- to annoy the British shipping then at Phi- 
 ladelphia. The danger of these machines being discovered, 
 the British manned the wharfe and shipping, and discharged 
 their small arms and cannons at every thiner they saw floating 
 in the river during the ebb tide. — Author's Rote. 
 
JACOB DUCHE. 
 
 219 
 
 Sir William he, snug as a flea, 
 
 Lay all this time a snoring, 
 Nor dream'd of harm as he lay "warm, 
 
 In bed with Mrs. Loring. 
 
 Now in a fright, he starts upright, 
 
 Awak'd by such a clatter ; 
 He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries. 
 
 For God's sake, what's the matter '. 
 
 At his bed-side he then espy'd, 
 
 Sir Erskine at command, sir, 
 Upon one foot, he had one boot, 
 
 And.th' other in his hand, sir. 
 
 "Arise, arise," Sir Erskine cries, 
 " The rebels — more's the pity," 
 Without a boat are all afloat, 
 And rang'd before the city. 
 
 " The motly crew, in vessels new, 
 With Satan for their guide, sir, 
 Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs, 
 Come driving down the tide, sir. 
 
 " Therefore prepare for bloody war, 
 These kegs must all be routed, * 
 Or surely we despised shall be, 
 And British courage doubted." 
 
 The royal band now ready stand 
 
 All rang'd in dread array, sir, 
 With stomach stout to see it out, 
 
 And make a bloody day, sir. 
 
 The cannons roar from shore to shore, 
 The small arms make a rattle ; 
 
 Since wars began I'm sure no man 
 E'er saw so strange a battle. 
 
 The rebel dales, the rebel vales, 
 
 With rebel trees surrounded ; 
 The distant woods, the lulls and floods, 
 
 With rebel echoes sounded. 
 
 The fish below swam to and fro, 
 
 Attack'd from ev'ry quarter ; 
 Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay, 
 
 'JMongst folks above the water. 
 
 The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made. 
 
 Of rebel staves and hoops, sir, 
 Could not oppose their powerful foes, 
 
 The conq'ring British troops, sir. 
 
 From morn to night these men of might 
 
 Display'd amazing courage; 
 And when the sun was fairly down, 
 
 Ketir'd to sup their porrage 
 
 An hundred men with each a pen, 
 
 Or more upon my word, sir, 
 It is most true would be too few, 
 
 Their valour to record, sir. 
 
 Such feats did they perform that day, 
 Against these wicked kegs, sir, 
 
 That years to come, if they get home, 
 They'll make their boasts and brags, sir. 
 
 THE NEW EOOF: A SONG FOE FEDERAL MECHANICS. 
 
 Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools, 
 Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules; 
 Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line, 
 And plenty of pins of American pine: 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 Our government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 ii. 
 Come up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall, 
 Like the people at large, they're the ground-work 
 of all ; 
 
 Examine them well, and see that they're sound, 
 Let no rotten part in our building be found : 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 A government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 Now hand up the girders, lay each in its place, 
 Between them the joists, must divide all the space ; 
 Like assembly -men these should lie level along, 
 Like girders, our senate prove loyal and strong: 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 A government firm over citizens free. 
 
 The rafters now frame ; your king-posts and braces. 
 And drive your pins home, to keep all in their 
 
 places ; 
 Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine, 
 And your pins be all made of American pine : 
 For our roof ice will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 A government firm over citizens free. 
 
 Our king-posts are judges ; how upright they stand, 
 
 Supporting the braces ; the laws of the land: 
 
 The laws of the land, which divide right from 
 
 wrong 
 And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong: 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 Laws equal and just, for a people that's free. 
 
 Up ! up ! . with the rafters ; each frame is a state : 
 How nobly they rise ! their span, too, how great I 
 From the north to the south, o'er the whole they 
 
 extend, 
 And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend : 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 Combined in strength, yet as citizens free. 
 
 Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through. 
 And see that your joints are drawn home and all 
 
 true, 
 The purlins will bind all the rafters together : 
 The strength of the whole shall defy wind and 
 
 weather : 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 United as states, but as citizens free. 
 
 Come, raise up the turret : our glory and pride : 
 In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside: 
 The sons of Columbia shall view with delight 
 Its pillars and arches, and tow'ring height: 
 Our roof is now raised, and our song still shctll be, 
 A federal head o'er a people that's free. 
 
 Huzza! my brave-boys, our work is complete; 
 The world shall admire Columbia's fair feat ; 
 Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof, 
 And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof: 
 Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall 
 
 be, 
 Our government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 JACOB DUCHE, 
 Who, at the suggestion of Samuel Adams, opened 
 the old Continental Congress of 1774 with prayer, 
 was for a. time Chaplain to the Congress of 1776, 
 and was much admired for his ease and elegance 
 as a preacher in his day ; was also a writer of 
 some pretensions. Of Huguenot descent, he was 
 
220 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 a native of Philadelphia, born about 1738. He j 
 took orders in England, and became a rector of 
 the Episcopal church in his native city. In 1771 
 appeared from his pen the Letters of Tamoc Cas- 
 pipina, an acrostic on his designation as Assistant 
 Minister of Christ's Church, and St. Peters, in 
 Philadelphia, in North America* They have 
 reference to the English politics of the times. 
 One of them has an allusion to Sir William Dra- 
 per, who was about that time in America, urging 
 him to a fresh encounter with his antagonist Ju- 
 nius, "the knight of the polished armour.''t The 
 letters are addressed by Tamoc Caspipina to Plight 
 Hon. Viscounts, Lady Carolines, Lord Bishops, 
 &c. ; and give an easy account, with not too much 
 matter, of some of the institutions of Philadel- 
 phia, a few trite moralities of religion, two or 
 three feeble poems, 
 
 Soon, Myrtilla, must thy friend 
 Hasten to a distant shore, <fec, 
 
 and a passing mention of the volumes of Godfrey 
 and Evans. In one of the letters there is a con- 
 templation of the rising greatness of America, 
 which is expressed in a flowing style — probably a " 
 very good specimen of the author's rhetorical 
 maimer in his sermons, which, joined to a good de- 
 livery, might readily produce the effect assigned 
 to Duche's pulpit eloquence. This collection was 
 several times reprinted. In an elegant edition, in 
 two small volumes, published at Bath in England 
 in 1777, there is an allusion to two prior ones; 
 and there is one still later, published at London in 
 1791. To the Bath edition is appended, A Brief 
 Account of the Life of William Perm, Esq., Pro- 
 prietor and Governor of Pennsylvania ; in which 
 his settlement of that Province is included, and 
 to which u added his Character. 
 
 The incidents of Duche's first services in the 
 Continental Congress were striking. John Adams 
 has given an account of the scene in a letter to 
 his wife dated September 16, 1774. Duche ap- 
 peared "with his clerk and his pontificals, and 
 read several prayers in the established form, and 
 then read the collect (psalter) for the seventh day 
 of September, which was the thirty-fifth psalm. 
 You must remember this was the next morning 
 after we heard the horrible rumor of the cannon- 
 ade of Boston. I never saw a greater effect upon 
 an audience. It seems as if Heaven had or- 
 dained that psalm to be read on that morning. 
 After this Mr. Duche, unexpectedly to everybody, 
 struck out into an extemporary prayer, which 
 filled the bosom of every man present. I must 
 confess I never heard a better prayer, or one so 
 well pronounced. Episcopalian as he is, Dr. 
 Cooper himself never prayed with such fervor, 
 such ardor, such earnestness and pathos, and in 
 language so elegant and sublime — for America, 
 for the Congress, for the Province of Massachu- 
 setts Bay, and especially the town of Boston. It 
 has had an excellent effect upon everj'body here. 
 I must beg you to read that psalm. If there was 
 any faith in the Sortes Virgilianas or Sortes Ho- 
 
 * Caspipina"s Letters. Observations on a variety of subjects, 
 literary, moral, and religious: in a Eeries of original letters, 
 written by a gentleman of foreign extraction who residedsome 
 time in Philadelphia. Philadelphia. 1774 
 
 t Graydon's Memoirs. Littell's Ed., p. 98. 
 
 mericaD, or especially in the Sortes BiblicEe, it would 
 be thought providential. Mr. Duche is one of the 
 most ingenious men, and best characters, and 
 greatest orators in the Episcopal order upon this 
 continent — yet a zealous friend of liberty and his 
 country." 
 
 He published two revolutionary sermons, a fast 
 sermon before Congress, and another address to 
 the militia. The Duty of Standing Fast in our 
 Spiritual and Temporal Liberties, was the title 
 of his discourse preached in Christ church, July 
 1, 1775, before the First Battalion of the city. 
 He addressed his audience from the text, Stand 
 fast, therefore, in the Liberty wherewith Christ 
 hath made us free, as freemen both in the spirit- 
 ual and temporal sense. It is temperate to Eng- 
 land, but animated for independence. In one sen- 
 tence he indulges in a bit of sarcasm. " We wish 
 not to possess the golden groves of Asia, to sparkle 
 in the public eye with jewels torn from the brows 
 of weeping nabobs, or to riot on the spoil of plun- 
 dered provinces." 
 
 The American Line, was his fast-day sermon, 
 delivered before the honorable Continental Con- 
 gress the same month, in which he looks to the 
 past prosperity of the_ country and invokes its 
 continuance. He gave the pay of his chaplaincy to 
 the families of the Whigs slain in battle. Though 
 a man of conscientious views, and a lover of right, 
 his judgment unfortunately wavered from timid- 
 ity or the pressure of society around him on the 
 British occupation of Philadelphia, and he felt 
 himself called upon to write an unfortunate letter 
 to General Washington,* urging him to abandon 
 the cause of Independence, which Washington 
 prudently laid before Congress, and which Du- 
 che's brother-in-law, Francis Hbpldnson, replied 
 to with great spirit and directness.t This action 
 caused his retirement from the country. He was 
 well received in England, where he published two 
 volumes of sermons in 1780, and a sermon before 
 the Humane Society in 1781. After the war he 
 returned to Philadelphia in 1790, where he died 
 in 1794. 
 
 FEOM CASPIPrNA'S LETTERS. 
 
 To the Right Honorable Lord Viscount P , Queen Street, 
 
 Westminster. 
 
 * * * My attachment to America, I am apt to 
 think, in a great measure proceeds from the prospect 
 of its growing greatness, to which every day seems 
 more or less to contribute. In Europe, the several 
 arts and sciences are almost arrived at their meri- 
 dian of perfection ; at least, new discoveries are less 
 frequent now than heretofore. Architecture, gar- 
 dening, agriculture, mechanics are at a stand. The 
 eye is weary with a repetition of scenes, in which it 
 discovers a perpetual sameness, though heightened 
 by all the refinements of taste. Excellency itself, in 
 works of human art, cloys the faculties, if the mind 
 is not now and then ralieved by objects of inferior 
 beauty. After roving over the magnificence of 
 churches and palaces, we are glad to fix a while 
 upon a simple farm-house, or straw-built cottage. 
 We feel a particular delight in tracing the windings 
 of a beautiful river from its first springs till it emp- 
 ties itself into the vast ocean. The mind pursues it 
 through an immense tract of variegated country, and 
 
 * October 8, 177T. 
 
 t This letter was thought of importance enough to be pub- 
 lished in England, in Bath, 1777, in 4to. 
 
HENRY CRUGER. 
 
 221 
 
 seems to flow and increase and widen along with it, 
 till it loses itself in the abyss of waters. 
 
 The objects of art, as well as those of nature, in 
 this new world, are at present in such a state, as 
 affords the highest entertainment to these faculties 
 of the mind. The progression is begun: here and 
 there, in the midst of venerable woods, which, 
 scarce a century ago, were the uncultivated haunts 
 of roaming savages, the power of cultivation pre- 
 sents itself to the traveller's view, in opening lawns, 
 covered with the richest verdure, fields of corn, or- 
 chards, gardens, and meadows fertilized by well 
 directed streams. Hamlets, villages, and even popu- 
 lous cities, with their towering spires, excite our 
 admiration. We are struck with the charm of no- 
 velty wherever we go. The comparison is always 
 at hand — for, within the compass of a short mile, we 
 may behold at once, nature in her original rusticity, 
 and art rising by rapid advances to perfection. 
 
 The progress of the human mind may here like- 
 wise be observed to keep equal pace with the exter- 
 nal improvements: the gradual polish of manners, 
 from awkwardness itself even to courtly civility; 
 from superstitious notions, and bigoted religious at- 
 tachments, to genuine spiritual devotion, may very 
 readily be traced by a thoughtful and inquisitive 
 mind. All the powers of nature seem to be upon 
 the stretch, as if the}' were in pursuit of something 
 higher still, in science, in manners, in religion itself, 
 than the mother country can afford. 
 
 Indeed, my Lord, I feel my heart expand at the 
 immense prospect that irresistibly opens upon me. 
 I see new kingdoms and empires rushing forth from 
 their embryo state, eager to disclose their latent 
 powers; whilst the old ones on the other side of the 
 Atlantic, " hide their diminished heads," lost in a 
 superior lustre. I see learning stripped of all scho- 
 lastic pedantry, and religion restored to gospel pu- 
 rity. I see the last efforts of a powerful Providence 
 exerted in order to reclaim our wandering race from 
 the paths of ignorance and error. I see the setting 
 rays of the Sun of Righteousness shining forth with 
 seven-fold lustre to the utmost bourn of this Western 
 Continent. 
 
 Wonder not then, my Lord, at my attachment to 
 this favoured spot. I tread the hallowed soil with 
 far higher pleasures from anticipation than your 
 classic enthusiasts feel from reflection, whilst they 
 kiss the floor of Tasculvm, or walk the " Eternal 
 Jlint by Consuls trod." 
 
 There is one thought, indeed, that throws a damp 
 upon that ardour of joy, which such speculations 
 generally produce in my breast. From the strange 
 pi'opensity of human nature to abuse the richest 
 gifts of Providence, (of which history as well as ex- 
 perience affords us so many sad examples) I fear, lest 
 the old leaven of wickedness should insinuate itself 
 again by degrees, till it has corrupted the whole 
 mass ; lest the melancholy scenes we have beheld in 
 the kingdoms and churches of the East should be 
 acted over again in the West; and the declension of 
 sound knowledge and virtuous practice, should be 
 more rapid than their increase and advancement. 
 
 Your lordship has seen the works of the divine 
 Herbert. You may remember how excessively fond 
 Dr. R— — y was of his poems, and how earnestly he 
 would recommend his excellent little treatise, called 
 The Country Parson, to all his pupils who were to 
 be candidates for holy orders. Lest you should not 
 have the book by you, I must beg leave to tran- 
 scribe a very remarkable passage from a poem en- 
 titled The Church Militant, which, as it relates 
 wholly to America, ami breathes a kind of prophetic 
 spirit, has generally been called " Herbert's Pro- 
 phecy." The language is uncouth and the measure 
 
 far from harmonious — but there is something very 
 striking and animated in the sentiment : — 
 
 Religion stands on tip-toe in our land 
 Beady to pass to thu American strand, &c.* 
 
 You see, my Lord, from the short sketches which I 
 have given you, that Herbert's Prophecy, if it may 
 be so called (though it is no more than what our 
 schoolmen have styled reading from analogy), is ful- 
 filling fast. Arts and religion still keep pace with 
 each other ; and 'tis not impossible, as he conjec- 
 tures, that their return to the East will be the "time 
 and place where judgement shall appear." 
 
 HENRY CRUGER. 
 
 Henry Cruger was the first American who 
 sat in the British House of Commons. He was a 
 member of a leading family in the society and 
 politics of the colony and city of New York, and 
 a nephew of John Cruger, mayor of New York, 
 and speaker of the Colonial Assembly at the time 
 of the passage of the stamp act, and a proposer, 
 and afterwards prominent member of the first 
 Provincial Congress held in New York, in 1765. 
 _ The " Declaration of Rights" issued by that body 
 ' was written by him. Henry Cruger was born in 
 New York, in 1739, and on arriving at manhood 
 became connected in business with his father, who 
 had established himself at Bristol, which then held 
 a position, in reference to American commerce, 
 similar to that of Liverpool at the present day, 
 and was elected mayor of the city. The father's 
 popularity seems to have been shared by the son, 
 as lie was also chosen mayor, and in 1774 one of 
 the two representatives of the city, in the House 
 of Commons, his colleague being Edmund Burke. 
 
 The election was a sharply contested one. Burke 
 was introduced on the hustings by Cruger, and 
 made a brief speech, at the conclusion of which, 
 
 a Mr. C is reported in the newspapers of the 
 
 day to have exclaimed, " I say ditto to Mr. Burke." 
 The story has passed into the jest books, and 
 been fastened upon Cruger, who, as he had just 
 before spoken, is not likely to have spoken again; 
 or if he did, would not, as his future career 
 : shows, have expressed himself so briefly. The 
 i true author of this famous speech was a Mr. Car- 
 rington. 
 
 Cruger made his maiden speech December 16, 
 1774-, in the debate on the Army Estimates. 
 Josiah Quincy, Jun., was present in the gallery, 
 and mentions the circumstance in one of his let- 
 I ters. A New York clergyman, the Rev. Mr. 
 Vardell, of Trinity Church, was also an auditor, 
 and wrote home the following enthusiastic ac- 
 count of the new member, in a letter, which 
 we find printed in the Memoirs of Peter Van 
 Schaick : — 
 
 Mr. Cruger's fame has, I suppose, by this time 
 reached his native shore. His applause has been 
 universally sounded in this country. Adminislra- 
 
 * See Art. Berkeley, ante, p. 183. 
 
222 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Hon applauds him for his moderation ; Opposition 
 for the just line he has drawn, and all men tor his 
 modest eloquence and graceful delivery. His ene- 
 mies are silenced by the strongest confutation of 
 their charges against him of illiberal invective 
 against the people of England, by his manly defence 
 of his country, and honorable approbation of his op- 
 ponents wherever he thought them justifiable. I 
 was in the house on the debate. It was remarkably 
 crowded with members, and the galleries were filled 
 with peers and persons of distinction. When Mr. 
 Cruger rose, there was a deep silence. He faltered 
 a little at first, but, as he proceeded, the cry of " Hear 
 him! hear him 1" animated him with resolution. 
 Hood, the Irish orator, sat behind me. He asked, 
 "Who is that? who is that? A young speaker? 
 "Whoever he is, he speaks more eloquently than any 
 man I have yet heard in the house." I took gre.it 
 pains to learn people's sentiments, and found them 
 all in his favor. Mr. Garriek, a few days after, in 
 a discussion on the subject, said, " he never saw hu- 
 man nature more amiably displayed than in the 
 modest manner of address, pathos of affection for 
 his country, and graceful gesture, exhibited by Mr. 
 Cruger in his speech." I am thus particular because 
 you must be curious to know what reception the 
 first American member met with in the most august 
 assembly in Europe. My heart beat high with 
 anxiety; I trembled when he arose with the most 
 awful and affecting jealousy for the honor of my 
 country. When "Hear him! hear him!" echoed 
 through the house, joy rushed through every vein, 
 and 1 seemed to glory in being a New-Yorker. 
 
 In this speech, while he dissents from many of 
 the measures pursued by the Americans, he 
 praises them for their love of liberty ; dwells on 
 the importance of the colonial trade to Great 
 Britain ; urges the necessity of conciliation, and 
 the uselessness of coercion. 
 
 Even should coercive measures reduce them to an 
 acknowledgment of the equity of Parliamentary 
 taxation, what are the advantages that will result 
 from it? Can it be believed that Americans will be 
 dragooned into a conviction of this right? Will 
 severities increase their affection and make them 
 more desirous of a connection with, and dependence 
 on Great Britain ? Is it not, on the contrary, rea- 
 sonable to conclude that the effect will be an increase 
 of jealousy and discontent? That they will seek all 
 occasions of evading laws imposed on them by vio- 
 lence ? That they will be restless under the yoke 
 and think themselves happy in any opportunity of 
 flying to the protection of some other power, from 
 the subjection of a mother whom they consider cruel 
 and vindictive? 
 
 I would not be understood, sir, to deny alto- 
 gether the good intentions of administration. The 
 abilities of the minister,* it seems, are universally 
 acknowledged. But, sir, I must add the maxim of 
 " hicmanuvi est errarc." And though an American, 
 I must applaud his zeal for the dignity of parlia- 
 ment, and must think the impolicy and inexpediency 
 of the late measures may reasonably be imputed to 
 the difficulty and embarrassments of the occasion, 
 and the unsettled and undefined nature of the de- 
 pendence of the Colonies on the mother country. 
 But, on the other hand, candor must admit the same 
 apology for any violence or mistakes of the Ameri- 
 cans. 
 
 But, sir, since these measures have been found, by 
 sad experience, to be totally inexpedient; since they 
 
 * Lord Xorth. 
 
 have served only to widen the breach instead of 
 closing it — have diminished the obedience of the 
 Colonies instead of confirming it — have increased 
 their tuibulence and opposition instead of allaying 
 them — it may well be hoped that a different course 
 of conduct and of treatment may be pursued ; and 
 some firm, enlightened, and liberal constitution be 
 adopted by the wisdom of this House, which may 
 secure the Colonists in the enjoyment of their liber- 
 ties, while it maintains the just supremacy of par- 
 liament. 
 
 In the debate on the Disturbances in North 
 America, Feb. 2, 1775, Colonel Grant remarked, 
 " That he knew the Americans well, and was cer- 
 tain they would not light," and was responded to 
 so warmly by Cruger, that the latter was called 
 to order by the Speaker. Cruger also spoke in 
 the debate on the Representation and remon- 
 strance of the General Assembly of New York, 
 May 15, 1775, and in that on Mr. Fox's motion 
 for an Enquirj' into the cause of the ill-success of 
 the British Arms in North America, February 20, 
 1776. We quote the conclusion of this, which is 
 one of his most successful efforts. 
 
 Admitting for the present, sir, that a force suffi- 
 cient to subdue the colonies can be sent out — admit- 
 ting that this country will patiently bear the enor- 
 mous weight of accumulated taxes, which so distant 
 and unequal a war will require — admitting that 
 foreign powers (the natural enemies of Britain) will, 
 with composure and self-denial, neglec-t so favorable 
 an opportunity of distressing their rivals — admitting 
 that your fleets, unopposed, shall level to the ground 
 those cities which rose under your protection, be- 
 came the pillars of your commerce, and your na- 
 tion's boast — admitting that foreign mercenaries 
 spread desolation, that thousands fall before them, 
 and that, humbled under the combined woes of 
 poverty, anarchy, want, and defeat, the exhausted 
 colonies fall suppliant at the feet of their conquerors 
 — admitting all this will be the case, (which cannot 
 well be expected from the past,) there necessarily 
 follows a most momentous question ; What are the 
 great advantages that Great Britain is to receive in 
 exchange for the blessings of peace and a lucrative 
 commerce, for the affection and loyalty, for the pros- 
 perity, for the lives of so many of its useful subjects 
 sacrificed ? Would the bare acknowledgment of a 
 right in Parliament to tax them, compensate for the 
 millions expended, the dangers incurred, the mise- 
 ries entailed, the destruction of human happiness 
 and of life that must ensue from a war with our 
 colonies, united as they are in one common cause, 
 and fired to desperate enthusiasm by apprehensions 
 of impending slavery ? Or can you be so absurd as 
 to imagine that concessions extorted in a time of 
 danger and of urgent misery, will form a bond of 
 lasting union ? Impoverished and undone by their 
 exertions, and the calamities of war, instead of being 
 able to repay the expenses of this country, or to 
 supply a revenue, they would stand in need of your 
 earliest assistance to revive depressed and almost 
 extinguished commerce, as well as to renew and up- 
 hold their necessary civil establishments. 
 
 I am well aware, sir, that it is said we must 
 maintain the dignity of Parliament. Let me ask 
 what dignity is that which will not descend to make 
 millions happy — which will sacrifice the treasures 
 and best blood of the nation to extort submissions, 
 fruitless submissions, that will be disavowed and 
 disregarded the moment the compulsory, oppressive 
 force is removed? What dignity is that which, to 
 enforce a disputed mode of obtaining a revenue, 
 
WILLIAM BAETEAM. 
 
 223 
 
 ■will destroy commerce, spread poverty and desola- 
 tion, and dry up every channel, every source, from 
 which either revenue or any real substantial benefit 
 can be expected i 
 
 Is it not high time then, Mr. Speaker, to examine 
 the full extent of our danger, to pause and marl; the 
 paths which have misled us, and the wretched, be- 
 wildered guides who have brought us into our 
 present difficulties ? Let us seek out the destroying 
 angel, and stop his course, while we have yet any- 
 thing valuable to preserve. The breach is not yet 
 irreparable, and permit me, with all deference, to 
 say, I have not a doubt but that liberal and explicit 
 terms of reconciliation, with a full and firm security 
 against any unjust or oppressive exercise of parlia- 
 mentary taxation, if held out to the colonies before 
 the war takes a wider and more destructive course, 
 will lead speedily to a settlement, and recall the for- 
 mer years of peace, when the affections and inte- 
 rests of Great Britain and America were one. 
 
 But, sir, if, on the contrary, we are to plunge 
 deeper into this sea of blood; if we are to sacrifice 
 the means and materials of revenue for unjust dis- 
 tinctions about the modes of raising it; if the laurels 
 we can gain, and the dignity of Parliament we are 
 to establish, can be purchased only by the miseries 
 of our fellow-subjects, whose losses are our own ; if 
 the event is precarious, and the cause, alien to the 
 spirit and humanity of Englishmen; if the injury is 
 certain, and the object of success unsubstantial and 
 insecure, how little soever the influence my poor 
 opinion and arguments can have on this House, I 
 shall at least free my conscience by having expli- 
 citly condemned all such impolitic, unjust, inade- 
 quate, injudicious measures, and by giving to this 
 motion my most hearty concurrence and support, 
 
 In the debate on Mr. Wilkes's motion for the 
 Repeal of the American Declaratory Act, Decem- 
 ber 10, 1777, Cruger says : " From my connec- 
 tions in America I have had an opportunity of 
 collecting the sentiments of men of all orders and 
 parties, and have reason to believe that inde- 
 pendency is not vet the great object of the major- 
 ity of the people." On the 5th of May, 1780, in 
 the debate on General Conway's lull for quieting 
 the troubles in America, "Mr. Cruger contended 
 that the bill by no means went far enough. He 
 said the American war, the real source of all our 
 distresses and burdens, should be put an end to at 
 all events ; in order to do this, the independency 
 must be allowed, and the thirteen provinces 
 treated as free states." This is the last mention 
 of his name in Hansard's Reports. He spoke 
 only on American affairs, and was evidently not 
 desirous of a separation between the colonies and 
 the mother country, but when such a step became 
 inevitable, acquiesced. Had he lived in America, 
 he would no doubt have been prominent on the 
 side of independence. 
 
 It is characteristic of the manner in which 
 families were divided in political opinions, du- 
 ring the Revolution, that while Henry Cruger 
 was in parliament, one of his two brothers in 
 America' was a colonel in the royal army, and 
 employed in the southern campaign, while the 
 other, a New York merchant, trading- with the 
 West Indies, though taking no active part in the 
 contest, was identified with the Whig side, and a 
 friend of General Washington. 
 
 Henry Cruger returned to New York after the 
 war, and was elected to the state senate, while 
 still a member of the British House of Commons, 
 
 his term of service not having expired, ne does 
 not appear to have taken any active part in the 
 Legislature, nor in any public affairs after the 
 expiration of his term of office. He died in New 
 York on the 24th day of April, 1827. 
 
 He was noted throughout his career for his 
 frank, and at the same time polished manners; 
 qualities which, combined with a handsome 
 figure, no doubt contributed their share to his 
 great personal popularity in Bristol, and his high 
 social position in his native city. He was not 
 forgotten after resuming his residence in New 
 York, by his old constituents on the other side 
 of the water; a spirited election ballad of 1812 
 referring to past triumphs under his leadership, 
 as an incitement to exertion in favor of a distin- 
 guished successor, Romilly. Wo quote its open- 
 ing stanzas : 
 
 THE GOLDEN DATS OF HARRY CRUGER. 
 
 Eight-and-thirty years ago,* by a resolute exertion, 
 Bristol's independent sons broke the fetters of 
 
 coercion ; 
 And so glorious was the triumph, that it gain'd the 
 
 approbation 
 Of ev'ry liberal-minded man throughout the British 
 
 nation. 
 Chorus — 
 
 O the golden days of honest Harry Cruger ! 
 
 With pleasure we reflect upon the days of 
 Harry Crugee. 
 
 Then the minions of corruption, and the weight of 
 their long purses, 
 
 Were scarcely more regarded than their promises or 
 curses : 
 
 Each freeman was impelled by disinterested prin- 
 ciple — 
 
 A stimulus that renders every honest cause invin- 
 cible. 
 
 the golden days, <fec. 
 
 The patriot-five that warm'd the heart on such a 
 
 bright occasion, 
 Requires no more at present than a little renovation ; 
 What freemen did in seventy-four, to rid themselves 
 
 of slavery, 
 They very well may do in twelve, 'gainst arrogance 
 
 and knavery. 
 
 the golden days, &c. 
 
 WILLIAM BAETEAM. 
 Coleridge, whose love of universal knowledge 
 and constant desire to gratify the imagination, 
 led him to be a diligent reader of the reports of 
 travellers, particularly those who made original 
 observations in regions of adventure and disco- 
 very, of the fidelit} 7 and essential value of whose 
 narratives he was a most discriminating judge, 
 said of these productions, "the latest book of 
 travels I know, written in the spirit of the old tra- 
 vellers, is Bartram's account of his tour in the Flo- 
 ridas. It is a work of high merit every way."t 
 The author, who was the honored subject of this 
 eulogy, was William Bartram, who printed in 
 Philadelphia in 1791, in an octavo volume, his 
 Travels through North and South Carolina,, 
 Georgia, East anal West Florida, the Cherokee 
 
 * Thirty-eight Tears before Mr. Cruzer was first chosen 
 Member of Parliament. 
 
 t Specimens of the Table Talk of the late Samuel Tayloj 
 Coleridge, March 12, 1827. . 
 
224 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Country, the Extensive Territories of the Musco- 
 gulges or Creek Confederacy, and the Country 
 of the Choctaics. Containing an account of the 
 soil and natural productions of those regions; 
 together with observations on the manners of the 
 Indians. The style of this work is distinguished 
 by its simple love of nature and vivacity. It 
 breathes of the freshness of a new land : every 
 sensation is pleasurable, welcomed by health. 
 The writer lived before that stage of the civiliza- 
 tion of great cities which silences the voice of 
 natural emotion raised in the expression of grati- 
 tude to Heaven or affection to man. Perhaps 
 the simple life and pure tastes of the Quaker 
 facilitated his lively gratification of the senses and 
 emotions. All his faculties are alive in his book, 
 whether he describes a tree, a fish, a bird, beast, 
 Indian, or hospitable planter. He detects fra- 
 grance, vitality, and health everywhere in the 
 animal world. 
 
 ^>„ °n- 
 
 \j$<&rd~*. 
 
 "William Bartram came naturally by his tastes 
 in these pursuits. He was the fourth son of John 
 Bartram — born in Pennsylvania in 1699 — the ear- 
 liest of American botanists, and the founder of the 
 first Botanical Garden in the country. His ac- 
 quaintance with medicine and occupation as a 
 farmer had led him to the study of plants. The 
 specimens which he collected were sent to Lon- 
 don, and secured him the correspondence of Peter 
 Collinson, the Quaker lover of science and the 
 friend of Franklin. He was a great traveller in 
 search of his favorite objects in natural history in 
 the old provinces, making his way to the head 
 waters of the lakes and rivers of New York and 
 Pennsylvania, through what was then a wilder- 
 ness, and accomplishing, when he was nearly 
 seventy, a full exploration of the St.* John's river 
 in Florida. In 1751 some observations made by 
 Bartram on his travels from Pennsylvania to 
 Lake Ontario, and communicated to his friends 
 in London, were published by them in a thin 
 octavo, with an appendix containing the account 
 of Niagara by the Swedish traveller Kalm.* 
 The style of Bartram is crude, but his observa- 
 tions show the genius of the naturalist. 
 
 Of his southern journey an account was pub- 
 lished in 1766-t It consists of a description of the 
 country in its main features of climate, soil, natu- 
 ral productions, and opportunities for cultivation, 
 
 * Observations on the Inhabitants, Climate, Soil, Pavers, 
 Productions, Animals, and other matters worthy of notice, 
 made by Mr. John Bartram, in his Travels from Pennsylvania 
 to Onondago, Oswego and the Lake Ontario, in Canada. To 
 which is annexed a curious account of the Cataracts at Niagara, 
 by Mr. Peter Kalm, a Swedish gentleman who travelled there. 
 London. J. Whiston & White, 1751. Svo. pp. 94. Kalm was a 
 pupil of Linnaeus at Upsal. and came to America a' his insti- 
 gation. From 1748-51 he was in America, where he was inti- 
 mate with Golden, Logan, Franklin, and Bartram. His three 
 volumes of travels in this country were translated from the 
 Swedish into German, and thence into English by J. Eeinoid 
 Forster, in 1771. Kalm died in 1779. 
 
 t A Description of East-Florida, with a journal, kept by John 
 Bartram, of Philadelphia. Botanist to His Majesty for the Flo- 
 ridas; upon a journey from St. Augustine' up' the river St. 
 John's, as far as the Lakes. With explanatory botanical notes. 
 Illustrated with an accurate Map of East Florida, and two 
 plans, one of St. Augustine, and the. other of the Bay of Espi- 
 litu Santo. The third edition, much enlarged and improved. 
 
 with a journal appended of actual observations 
 (Dec. 9,'l765, Feb. 11, 1766). These are intro- 
 duced in the edition before us by a dedication 
 and recommendation from the pen of Dr. AVilliam 
 Stork, who had the settlement of the country at 
 heart. Bartram's observations are plainly set 
 down, and his tract has the interest of most 
 original notices of the kind. His mention of the 
 staple productions of the several colonies in 1766, 
 is a point from which to measure the develop- 
 ment of the country: — "Since every colony in 
 America seems to have, as it were, a staple com- 
 modity peculiar to itself, as Canada the fur; 
 Massachusetts Bay, fish ; Connecticut, lumber ; 
 New York and Pennsylvania, wheat; Virginia 
 and Maryland, tobacco ; North Carolina, pitch 
 and tar ; South Carolina, rice and indigo ; Geor- 
 gia, rice and silk." 
 
 ■In a letter to Jared Eliot, dated Philadelphia, 
 Sept. 1, 1775, introducing John Bartram, Frank- 
 lin writes, " I believe you will find him to be at 
 least twenty folio pages, large paper, well filled, 
 on the subjects of botany, fos:-ils, husbandry, and 
 the first creation." Hector St. John, in his Let- 
 ters of an American Farmer, has a long descrip- 
 tion of an alleged visit paid by a Russian gentle- 
 man to John Bartram, which is evidently an 
 ticcount of his own observations of the amiable 
 naturalist. He mentions an inscription over the 
 door of his greenhouse, 
 
 Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
 But looks through nature up to nature's God. 
 
 The character of John Bartram was marked 
 by its strength and simplicity, and by his love for 
 the moral precepts of the Bible. Born and educat- 
 ed a Quaker, he did .not escape some imputations 
 of imperfect orthodoxy. His natural piety was 
 witnessed by the inscription engraved by his own 
 hands upon a stone placed on the outside of his 
 house, over the front window of his study — 
 
 'Tis God alone, Almighty Lord, 
 The Holy one, by me adored. 
 Joun Baeteam, 1770. 
 
 He died September 21, 1777. 
 
 It was at the Botanic Garden on the banks of 
 the Schuylkill, which the father founded, and in 
 the house also built by his own hands, that Wil- 
 liam Bartram, the son, was born, February 9, 
 1739. He had for his tutor Charles Thomson, 
 subsequently the honest and spirited republican 
 of the old Continental Congress. He had an early 
 talent for drawing, which led him to think of the 
 congenial pursuits of printing and engraving ; but 
 he adopted the life of a merchant, which he soon 
 abandoned ; for before he was thirty years of age 
 
 Hie Segetes, illic veniuut felieins nvae 
 Arborei Fructus alibi, atque injussa viresennt 
 Gramina Nonne vides croceos ut Tmolus Odores, 
 India mittet Ebur, molles sua Tliura Sabtei ? 
 
 Yiryil, Georgia. 
 
 London ; sold by W. Nicoll, at No. 51 St. Paul's Church Yard; 
 
 and T. Jefferies," at Chariug-Cross, Geographer to his Majesty. 
 
 MDCCLXIX. 
 
WILLIAM BARTKAM. 
 
 225 
 
 we find him accompanying his father on his Flo- 
 rida tour, and engaging in the cultivation of in- 
 digo. His own travels in that region were corn- 
 
 tram's IIoUSC. 
 
 menced in 1772, at the request of Dr. Fothergill, 
 the distinguished botanist and liberal and benevo- 
 lent friend of science, and he occupied live years 
 in his natural history pursuits in Georgia, South 
 Carolina, and the Floridas. On his "return to 
 Philadelphia he quietly passed his time in scien- 
 tific occupations, residing at the old Botanic Gar- 
 den at Kingsessing, never marrying, though oc- 
 casionally rallied on the subject by his London 
 friend Collinson. In 1782 he was elected Pro- 
 fessor of Botany in the University of Pennsyl- 
 vania, but did not accept the position on account 
 of his health. lie assisted Wilson in his Ameri- 
 can Ornithology. His friend Barton was indebt- 
 ed to his pencil for drawings of the plates of his 
 Elements of Botany. In 1789 he wrote a reply 
 to a series of questions proposed to him on the 
 condition of the Creek and Cherokee Indians, of 
 whose manners he had been a diligent and curi- 
 ous observer, which has been lately reprinted 
 from the original manuscript in the Transactions 
 of the American Ethnological Society. The name 
 of his correspondent in this work has been lost, 
 but the probability rests with Dr. B. S. Barton, 
 who refers in his Memoir on the Origin of the 
 American Nations, to a MS. of Bartram on these 
 subjects iu his possession.* His views of the 
 character of the Southern Indians in this sketch, 
 as well as in his Travels, place them in a very 
 favorable light, for their possession of many ho- 
 norable personal qualities. 
 
 In May, 1797, he was visited by Dunlap, in 
 company with Brockden Brown, at the Botanic 
 Garden, and the curious historiographer and 
 painter has left a sketch of his appearance: — 
 '■ Arrived at the botanist's garden, we approached 
 an old man, who, with a rake in his hand, was 
 breaking the clods of earth in a tulip bed. His 
 hat was old and Happed over his face ; his coarse 
 shirt was seen near his neck, as he wore no cra- 
 vat or kerchief; his waistcoat and breeches were 
 both of leather, and his shoes were tied with lea- 
 ther strings. We approached and accosted him. 
 He ceased his work, and entered into conver- 
 sation with the ease and politeness of nature's 
 nobleman. His 'countenance was expressive of 
 
 benignity and happiness. Tins was the botanist, 
 traveller, and philosopher we had come to see. 
 He had pointed out many curious plants."* 
 
 Bartram appears to have been engaged in these 
 friendly pursuits of science to the last, for it is 
 recorded he wrote an article on the natural his- 
 tory of a plant, a few minutes before his death, 
 which happened suddenly, by the rupture of a 
 bloodvessel in the lungs, July 22, 1823, in the 
 eighty-fifth year of his age. The correspondence 
 of the Bartrams and Humphry Marshall, who 
 was the cousin of John Bartram and author of a 
 valuable Treatise on the Forest Trees of North 
 America, with their scientific friends in Europe 
 and at home, is of interest for its simple, unaffect- 
 ed character, and the curiosity and information 
 of many of its details. This correspondence was 
 published in 1849, with many other interesting 
 memorials, by William Darlington.t 
 
 ErnEMERA. 
 
 Leaving Picolata, I continued to ascend the river. 
 I observed this day, during my progress up the 
 river, incredible numbers of small flying insects, of 
 the genus termed by naturalists Ephemera, continu- 
 ally emerging from the shallow water near shore, 
 some of them immediately taking their flight to the 
 land, whilst myriads crept up the grass and her- 
 bage, where remaining for a short time, as they ac- 
 quired sufficient strength, they took their flight 
 also, following their kindred to the main land. 
 Tins resurrection from the deep, if I may so express 
 it, commences early in the morning, and ceases after 
 the sun is up. At evening they are seen in clouds 
 of innumerable millions, swarming and wantoning 
 in the still air, gradually drawing near the river. 
 They descend upon its surface, and there quickly 
 end their day, after committing their eggs to the 
 deep ; which being for a little while tossed about, 
 enveloped in a viscid scum, are hatched, and the 
 little Larvae descend into their secure and dark habi- 
 tation, in the oozy bed beneath, where they remain 
 j gradually increasing in size, until the returning 
 | spring ; they then change to a Nymph, when the 
 j genial heat brings them, as it were, into existence, 
 j and they again arise into the world. This fly seems 
 to be delicious food for birds, frogs, and fish. In the 
 morning, when they arise, and in the evening, when 
 they return, the tumult is great indeed, and the sur- 
 face of the water along shore broken into bubbles, 
 or spirted into the air, by the contending aquatic 
 tribes; and such is the avidity of the fish and frogs, 
 that they spring into the air after this delicious 
 
 f"' e >'- . 
 
 Early in the evening, after a pleasant day's voy- 
 age, I made a convenient and safe harbor, in a little 
 lagoon, under an elevated bank, on the West shore 
 of the river ; where I shall entreat the reader's pa- 
 tience, whilst wc behold the closing scene of the 
 short-lived Ephemera, and communicate to each other 
 the reflections which so singular an exhibition might 
 rationally suggest to an inquisitive mind. Our 
 place of observation is happily situated under the 
 protecting shade of majestic Live Oaks, glorious 
 Magnolias, and the fragrant Orange, open to the 
 view of the great river and the still waters of the 
 lagoon just before us. 
 
 * Prefatory note?, by E. G. Squier, to Observations on the 
 Creek and Cherokee Indians, by William Bartram.— Transac- 
 tions Am. Etb. aoc. vol. iii. pt. 1. 
 vol.. I. — 15 
 
 * Hist. Am. Theatre, 170. 
 
 t Memorials of John Bartram and Humphry Marshall, with 
 Notices of their Botanical Contemporaries, by William Dar- 
 lington, 1849. 
 
226 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 At the cool eye's approach, the sweet enchanting 
 melody of the feathered songsters gradually ceases, 
 and they betake themselves to their leafy coverts for 
 security and repose. 
 
 Solemnly and slowly move onward, to the river's 
 shore, the rustling crowds of the Ephemera. How 
 awful the procession ! innumerable millions of 
 winged beings, voluntarily verging on to destruc- 
 tion, to the brink of the grave, where they behold 
 bands of their enemies with wide open jaws, ready 
 to receive them. But as if insensible of their dan- 
 ger, gay and tranquil each meets his beloved mate 
 iu the still air, inimitably bedecked in their new 
 nuptial robes. What eye can trace them, in their 
 varied wanton amorous chases, bounding and flut- 
 tering on the odoriferous air! With what peace, 
 love, and joy, do they end the last moments of their 
 existence ? 
 
 I think we may assert, without any fear of exag- 
 geration, that there are annually of these beautiful 
 winged beings, which rise into existence, and for a 
 few moments take a transient view of the glory of 
 the Creator's works, a number greater than the 
 whole race of mankind that have ever existed since 
 the creation ; and that, only from the shores of this 
 river. How many then must have been produced 
 since the creation, when we consider the number of 
 large rivers in America, in comparison with which, 
 this river is but a brook or rivulet ! 
 
 The importance of the existence of these beautiful 
 and delicately formed little creatures, whose frame 
 and organization are equally wonderful, more deli- 
 cate, and perhaps as complicated as those of the 
 most perfect human being, is well worth a few mo- 
 ments' contemplation ; 1 mean particularly when 
 they appear iu the fly state. And if we consider 
 the very short period of that stage of existence, 
 which we may reasonably suppose to be the only 
 space of their life that admits of pleasure and enjoy- 
 ment, what a lesson doth it not afford us of the 
 vanity of our own pursuits! 
 
 Their whole existence in this world is but one 
 complete year ; and at least three hundred and sixty 
 days of that time they are in the form of an ugly 
 grub, buried in mud, eighteen inches under water, 
 and in this condition scarcely locomotive, as each 
 larva or grub has but its own narrow solitary cell, 
 from which it never travels or moves, but in a per- 
 pendicular progression of a few inches, up and down, 
 from the bottom to the surface of the mud, in order 
 to intercept the passing atoms for its food, and get a 
 momentary respiration of fresh air; and even hero 
 it must be perpetually on its guard, in order to es- 
 cape the troops of fish and shrimps watching to 
 catch it, and from whom it ha3 no escape, but by 
 instantly retreating back into its cell. One would 
 be npt almost to imagine them created merely for 
 the food of fish and other animals. 
 
 CEOCODILES ON TnE ST. JOnN'S. 
 
 The evening was temperately cool and calm. 
 The crocodiles began to roar and appear in uncom- 
 mon numbers along the shores and in the river. I 
 fixed my camp in an- open plain, near the utmost 
 projection of the promontory, under the shelter of a 
 large live oak, winch stood on the highest part of 
 the ground, and but a few yards from my boat. 
 From this open, high situation, I had a free prospect 
 of the river, which was a matter of no trivial con- 
 sideration to me, having good reason to dread the 
 subtle attacks of the alligators, who were crowding 
 about my harbour. Having collected a good 
 quantity of wood for the purpose of keeping up a 
 light ami smoke during the night, I began to think 
 of preparing my supper, when, upon examining my 
 
 stores, I found but a scanty provision. I thereupon 
 determined, as the most expeditious way of supply- 
 ing my necessities, to take my bob and try for some 
 trout. About one hundred yards above my harbour 
 began a cove or bay of the river, out of which 
 opened a large lagoon. The mouth or entrance 
 from the river to it was narrow, but the waters 
 soon after spread and formed a little lake, extending 
 into the marshes : its entrance and shores within I 
 observed to be verged with floating lawns of the 
 pistia and nymphea and other aquatic plants; these 
 I knew were excellent haunts for trout. 
 
 The verges and islets of the lagoon were elegantly 
 embellished with flowering plants and shrubs; the 
 laughing coots with wings half spread were tripping 
 over the little coves, and hiding themselves in the 
 tufts of grass; young broods of the painted summer 
 teal, skimming the still surface of the waters, and 
 following the watchful parent unconscious of dan- 
 ger, were frequently surprised by the voracious 
 trout ; and he, in turn, as often by the subtle 
 greedy alligator. Behold him rushii.g forth from 
 the flags and reeds. His enormous body swells. 
 His plaited tail, brandished high, floats upon the 
 lake. The waters like a cataract descend fiom his 
 opening jaws. Clouds of smoke issue from his di- 
 lated nostrils. The earth trembles with his thunder. 
 When immediately from the opposite coast of the 
 lagoon, emerges from the deep his rival champion. 
 They suddenly dart upon each other. The boiling 
 surface of the lake marks their rapid course, and 
 a terrific conflict commences. They now sink to 
 the bottom folded together in horrid wreaths. The 
 water becomes thick and discoloured. Again they 
 rise, their jaws clap together, re-echoing through 
 the deep surrounding forests. Again they sink, 
 when the contest ends at the muddy bottom of the 
 lake, and the vanquished makes a hazardous es- 
 cape, hiding himself in the muddy turbulent waters 
 and sedge on a distant shore. The proud victor ex- 
 ulting returns to the place of action. The shores 
 and forests resound his dreadful roar, together with 
 the triumphing shouts of the plaited tribes aiound, 
 witnesses of the horrid combat. 
 
 My apprehensions were highly alarmed after 
 being a spectator of so dreadful a battle. It was 
 obvious that every delay would but tend to in- 
 crease my dangers and difficulties, as the sun was 
 near setting, and the alligators gathered around my 
 harbour from all quarters. From these considera- 
 tions I concluded to be expeditious in my trip to the 
 lagoon, in order to take some fish. Not thinking it 
 prudent to take my fusee with me, lest I might lose 
 it overboard in case of a battle, which I had every 
 reason to dread before my return, I therefore fur- 
 nished myself with a club for my defence, went on 
 board, and penetrating the first line of those which 
 surrounded my harbour, they gave way; but being 
 pursued by several very large ones, I kept strictly on 
 the watch, and paddled with all my might towards the 
 entrance of the lagoon, hoping to be sheltered there 
 from the multitude of my assailants; but ere I had 
 half-way reached the place, I was attacked on all 
 sides, several endeavouring to overset the canoe. 
 My situation now became precarious to the Inst de- 
 gree: two very large ones attacked me closely, at 
 the same instant, rushing up with their heads and 
 part of their bodies above the water, roaring terri- 
 bly aud belching floods of water over me. They 
 struck their jaws together so close to my ears, as al- 
 most to stun me, and I expected every moment to be 
 dragged out of the boat and instantly devoured. 
 But I applied my weapons so effectually about me, 
 though at random, that I was so successful as to 
 beat them off a little; when finding that they de- 
 
WILLIAM BAETRAM. 
 
 227 
 
 signed to renew the battle, I made for the shore, as 
 the only means left me for my preservation ; for, by 
 keeping close to it, I should have my enemies on 
 one side of me only, whereas I was before sur- 
 rounded by them ; and there was a probability, if 
 pursued to the last extremity, of saving myself by 
 jumping out of the canoe on shore, as it is easy to 
 outwalk them on land, although comparatively as 
 swift as lightning in the water. I found this last 
 experiment alone could fully answer my expectations, 
 for as soon as I gained the shore, they drew off and 
 kept aloof. This was a happy relief, as my confi- 
 dence was, in some degree, recovered by it. On 
 recollecting myself, I discovered that I had almost 
 reached the entrance of the lagoon, and determined 
 to venture in, if possible, to take a few fish, and then 
 return to my harbour, while daylight continued ; 
 for I could now, with caution and resolution, make 
 my way with safety along shore ; and indeed there 
 was no other way to regain my camp, without leav- 
 ' ing my boat and making my retreat through the 
 marshes and reeds, which, if I could even effect, 
 would have been in a manner throwing myself 
 away, for then there would have been no hopes of 
 ever recovering my bark, and returning in safety to 
 any settlements of men. I accordingly proceeded, 
 and made good my entrance into the lagoon, though 
 not without opposition from the alligators, who 
 formed a line across the entrance, but did not pur- 
 sue me into it, nor was I molested by any there, 
 though there were some very large ones in a cove at 
 the upper end. I soon caught more trout than I 
 had present occasion for, and the air was too hot 
 and sultry to admit of their being kept for many 
 hours, even though salted or barbecued. I now 
 prepared for my return to camp, which I succeeded 
 in with but little trouble, by keeping close to the 
 shore ; yet I was opposed upon re-entering the river 
 out of the lagoon, and pursued near to my landing 
 (though not closely attacked), particularly by an 
 old daring one, about twelve feet in length, who 
 kept close after me; and when I stepped on shore 
 and turned about, in order to draw up my canoe, he 
 rushed up near my feet, and lay there for some 
 time, looking me in the face, his head and shoulders 
 out of water. I resolved he should pay for his 
 temerity, and having a heavy load in my fusee, I 
 ran to my camp, and returning with my piece, 
 found him with his foot on the gunwale of the boat, 
 in search of fish. On my coming up lie withdrew 
 sullenly and slowly into the water, but soon re- 
 turned and placed himself in his former position, 
 looking at me, and seeming neither fearful nor any 
 way disturbed. I soon dispatched him by lodging 
 the contents of my gun in his head, and then pro- 
 ceeded to cleanse and prepare my fish for supper: 
 and accordingly took them out of the boat, laid 
 them down on the sand close to the water, and 
 began to scale them : when, raising my head, I saw 
 before me, through the clear water, the head and 
 shoulders of a very large alligator, moving slowly 
 towards me. I instantly stepped back, when, with 
 a sweep of iiis tail, he brushed off several of my fish. 
 It was certainly most providential that I looked up 
 at that instant, as the monster would probably, in 
 less than a minute, have seized and dragged me into 
 the river. This incredible boldness of the animal 
 disturbed me greatly, supposing there could now be 
 no reasonable safety for me during the night, but by 
 keeping constantly on the watch ; I therefore, as 
 soon as I had prepared the fish, proceeded to secure 
 myself and effects in the best manner I could. In 
 the first place, I hauled my bark upon the shore, 
 almost clear out of the water, to prevent their over- 
 setting or sinking her; after this, every moveable 
 
 was taken out and carried to my camp, which was 
 but a few yards off; then ranging some dry wood 
 in such order as was the most convenient, I cleared 
 the ground round about it, that there might be no 
 impediment in my way, in case of an attack in the 
 night, cither from the water or the land ; for I dis- 
 covered by this time, that this small isthmus, from 
 its remote situation and fruitfulness, was resorted to 
 by bears and wolves. Having prepared myself in 
 the best manner I could, I charged my gun, and 
 proceeded to reconnoitre my camp and the adjacent 
 grounds ; when I discovered that the peninsula and 
 grove, at the distance of about two hundred yards 
 from my encampment, on the land side, were in- 
 vested by a cypress swamp, covered with water, 
 which below was joined to the shore of the little 
 lake, and above to the marshes surrounding the la- 
 goon; so that I wasconfined to an island exceedingly 
 circumscribed, and I found there was no other re- 
 treat for me, in case of an attack, but by either as- 
 cending one of the large oaks, or pushing off with 
 my boat, 
 
 It was by this time dusk, and the alligators had 
 nearly ceased their roar, when I was again alarmed 
 by a tumultuous noise that seemed to be in my har- 
 bour, and therefore engaged my immediate attention. 
 Returning to my camp, I found it undisturbed, and 
 then continued on to the extreme point of the pro- 
 montory, where I saw a scene, new and surprising, 
 which at first threw my senses into such a tumult, 
 that it was some time before I could comprehend 
 w r hat was the matter; however, I soon accounted 
 for this prodigious assemblage of crocodiles at this 
 place, which exceeded everything of the kind I had 
 ever heard of. 
 
 How shall I express myself so as to convey an ade- 
 quate idea of it to the reader, and at the same time 
 avoid raising suspicions of my veracity ? Should I 
 say, that the river (in this place) from shore to 
 shore, and perhaps near half a mile above and below 
 me. appeared -to be one solid bank offish, of various 
 kinds, pushing through this narrow pass of St. Juan's 
 into the little lake, on their return down the river, 
 and that the alligators were in such incredible num- 
 bers, and so close together from shore to shore, that 
 it would have been easy to have walked across on 
 their heads, had the animals been harmless! What 
 expressions can sufficiently declare the shocking scene 
 that for some minutes continued, while this mighty 
 army of fish were forcing the pass ? During this at- 
 tempt, thousands, I may say hundreds of thousands, 
 of them were caught and swallowed by the devour- 
 ing alligators. I have seen an alligator take up out 
 of the water several great fish at a time, and just 
 squeeze them betwixt his jaws, while the tails of the 
 great trout flapped about his eyes and lips, ere he 
 had swallowed them. The horrid noise of their 
 closing jaws, their plunging amidst the broken 
 banks of fish, and rising with their prey some feet 
 upright above the water, the floods of water and 
 blood rushing out of their mouths, and the clouds of 
 vapour issuing from their wide nostrils, were truly 
 frightful, Thisseeue continued at intervals during the 
 night, as the fish came to the pass. After this Bight, 
 shocking and tremendous as it was, I found myself 
 somewhat easier and more reconciled to my situa- 
 tion ; being convinced that their extraordinary as- 
 semblage here was owing to this annual feast of 
 fish ; and that they were so well employed in their 
 own element, that I had little occasion to fear their 
 paying me a visit. 
 
 It being now almost night, I returned to my camp, 
 where I had left my fish boiling, and my kettle of 
 rice stewing; and having with me oil, pepper, and 
 salt, and excellent oranges hanging in abundance 
 
22S 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMEEICAN LITERATURE 
 
 over my head (a valuable substitute for vinegar), I 
 sat down and regaled myself cheerfully. Having 
 finished my repast, I rekindled nry fire for light and 
 whilst I was revising the notes of my past day's 
 journey, I was suddenly roused with a noise behind 
 me toward the main land. I sprang up on my feet, 
 and listening, I distinctly heard some creature 
 wading in the water of the isthmus. I seized my 
 gun and went cautiously from my camp, directing 
 my steps towards the noise : when I had advanced 
 about thirty yards, I halted behind a coppice of 
 orange trees, and soon perceived two very large 
 bears, which had made their way through the 
 water, and had landed in the grove, about one hun- 
 dred yards' distance from me, and were advancing 
 towards me. I waited until they were within 
 thirty yards of me: they there began to snutf and 
 look towards my camp: I snapped my piece hut it 
 flashed, on which they both turned about and gal- 
 loped off, plunging through the water and swamp, 
 never halting, as I suppose, until they reached 
 fast land, as 1 could hear them leaping and plunging 
 a long time. They did not presume to return 
 again, nor was I molested by any other creatures 
 except being occasionally awakened by the whoop- 
 ing of owls, screaming of bitterns, or the wood-rats 
 running ampngst the leaves. 
 
 EVENING SCENE IN FLOEIDA. 
 
 We approached the savanna at the south end by 
 a narrow isthmus of level ground, open to the light 
 of day, and clear of trees or bushes, and not greatlv 
 elevated above the common level, having on our 
 right a spacious meadow, embellished with a little 
 lake, one verge of which was not very distant from 
 us; its shore is a moderately high, circular bank, 
 partly encircling a cove of the pond, in the form of 
 a half moon; the water is clear and deep, and, at 
 (he distance of some hundred yards, was a large 
 floating field (if I may so express myself) of the 
 Nymphaea nelumbo, with their golden blossoms 
 waving to and fro on their lofty stems. Beyond 
 these fields of Nympham were spacious plains, en- 
 compassed by dark groves, opening to extensive 
 pine forests, other plains still appearing beyond 
 them. 
 
 This little lake and surrounding meadows would 
 have been alone sufficient to surprise and delight 
 the traveller ; but being placed so near the great sa- 
 vanna, the attention is quickly drawn off, and wholly 
 engaged in the contemplation of the unlimited, va- 
 ried, and truly astonishing native wild scenes of 
 landscape and perspective, there exhibited : how 
 is the mind agitated and bewildered, at being thus, 
 as it were, placed on the borders of a new world! 
 On the first view of such an amazing display of the 
 wisdom and power of the supreme author of nature, 
 the mind for a moment seems suspended, and im- 
 pressed with awe. 
 
 This isthmus being the common avenue or road 
 of Indian travellers, we pitched our camp at a small 
 distance from it, on a rising knoll near the verge of 
 the savanna, under some spreading Live Oaks; this 
 situation was open and airy, and gave us an un- 
 bounded prospect over the .adjacent plains. Dewy 
 evening now came on ; the animating breezes, 
 which cooled and tempered the meridian hours 
 of this sultry season, now gently ceased ; the glori- 
 ous sovereign of the day, calling in his bright beam- 
 ing emanations, left us in his absence to the milder 
 government and protection of the silver queen of 
 night, attended by millions of brilliant luminaries. 
 The thundering alligator had ended his horrifying 
 roar; the silver plumed gannet and stork, the sage 
 and solitary pelican of the wilderness, had already 
 
 retired to their silent nocturnal habitations, in the 
 neighbouring forests; the sonorous savanna cranes, 
 in well-disciplined squadrons, now rising from the 
 earth, mounted aloft in spiral circles, far above the 
 dense atmosphere of the humid plain ; they again 
 viewed the glorious sun, and the light of day still 
 gleaming on their polished feathers, they sung 
 their evening hymn, then in a straight line majesti- 
 cally descended, and alighted on the towering 
 Palms or lofty Pines, their secure and peaceful 
 lodging places. All around being still and silent, 
 we repaired to rest. 
 
 EDWAED BANCEOTT. 
 Of this political writer, who figured in England 
 during the Revolution, we find an account in the 
 Autobiography of John Adams,* from which it 
 appears that he was a native of Massachusetts 
 Bay, in the town of Suffield; that he had been 
 a pupil of Silas Deane, when that negotiator was 
 a schoolmaster ; that after " some education" he 
 had been apprenticed to a trade, from which he 
 ran away and went to sea, in debt to his master ; 
 that he was successful in his adventures, and re- 
 turned to his native town to make honorable 
 compensation to his employer : after this that he 
 "went to sea again," reappearing in England, 
 where he took up his residence and published his 
 Natural History of Guiana, " a work, considering 
 the advantages of the author, of great merit;" 
 that in addition he wrote in England the History 
 of Sir Charles Wentworth, " a novel which no 
 doubt was recommended to many readers, and 
 procured a considerably better sale, by the plen- 
 tiful abuse and vilification of Christianity which 
 he had taken care to insert into it ;" that '■ he had 
 also been in the intimacy and confidence of Dr. 
 Franklin, who had recommended him to the edi- 
 tors and proprietors of the Monthly Retiew, in 
 which his standing share was to review all publi- 
 cations relative to America." Adams adds that 
 he had this latter information from Franklin him- 
 self, and says — " I understood this very well, as I 
 thought — to wit that Bancroft was the ostensible 
 reviewer, but that Franklin was always consulted 
 before the publication." The other details given 
 by Adams are curious. " Bancroft," he goes on 
 to sav from information given by the personage 
 himself, " was a meddler in the stocks as well as 
 reviews, and frequently went into the alley, and 
 into the deepest and darke-t retirements and re- 
 cesses of the brokers and jobbers, Jews as well 
 as Christians, and found amusement as well per- 
 haps as profit, by listening to all the news and 
 anecdotes, true or false, that were there whis- 
 pered or more boldly pronounced." Bancroft 
 became afterwards " a confidential associate of 
 Franklin in Paris." " He had," continues Adams, 
 " a clear head and a good pen. He wrote some 
 things relative to the connection between France 
 and America, with the assistance of Franklin and 
 Deane as I presume, which were translated into 
 French by SI. Turgot or the Duke de la Rochefou- 
 cauld, I forget which, and printed in a publication 
 called Affaires de V Angleterre et de VAmerique, 
 and which were very well done. After the peace 
 he obtained a patent in France for the exclusive 
 importation of the bark of the yellow oak for the 
 
 * Works, iii. 141. 
 
BENJAMIN CHURCH. 
 
 229 
 
 dyers, and then he went to England and procured 
 a similar patent there, by both of which together 
 he is said to have realized an income of eight 
 hundred a year." 
 
 The work on Guiana alluded to, was published 
 in London in 1769.* It is in the form of letters 
 addressed to his brother from River Demerary, 
 in 1766, and is dedicated to Dr. William Pitcairn, 
 Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in 
 London, Bancroft was a member of this society, 
 as also a Fellow of the Royal Society. In his 
 book are described the wourali poison, and other 
 novelties for that time, of the country. It is a 
 readable account mainly of the savages and ani- 
 mals in a picturesque region. In the same year 
 he published a volume in support of American 
 Colonial Rights, entitled Remarks on the Review 
 of the Controversy between Great Britain and 
 her Colonies, the author of the review in question 
 being William Knox, Under-Secretary of State.t 
 
 When Bancroft went to Paris, as stated by Ad- 
 ams, it was to meet Deane and render assistance to 
 the American cause. He is also remembered as the 
 authority, with Priestley, for the story of Frank- 
 lin's having worn the Court suit of " spotted 
 Manchester velvet," in which he was dressed at 
 the Privy Council • meeting with Wedderburn, 
 again at the signing of the treaty with France. 
 Bancroft was present at the Privy Council scene, 
 and subsequently gave an account of the whole 
 aftair to William Temple Franklin.]; His name 
 appears occasionally in the Franklin Correspon- 
 dence. 
 
 In 1794, Bancroft published the first volume 
 of a work entitled Experimental Researches con- 
 cerning the Philosophy of Permanent Colors, and 
 the best means of producing them by dyeing, calico 
 printing, &c, followed by a second in 1813. 
 
 He never returned to America. His death oc- 
 curred in 1821.§ 
 
 BENJAMIN CHURCH.' 
 
 Benjamix CrroRcri was born at Newport, Rhode 
 Island, August 24, 1734. He was the son of a 
 deacon of the same name in Dr. Byles's Church in 
 Boston, and entered the Latin school of that city 
 in 1745. In 1754 he was graduated at Harvard. 
 His first poetical production, The Choice, a poem, 
 after the manner of Mr. Pomfret, by a young 
 Gentleman, was composed while he was at col- 
 
 * An Essay on the Natural History of Guiana in South Ame- 
 rica, containing a description of many curious Productions in 
 the Animal and Vegetable Systems of that Country. Together 
 with an Account of the Religion, Manners, and Customs, of 
 several tribes of its Indian inhabitants, interspersed with a 
 variety of Literary and Medical Observations; in several let- 
 ters from a gentleman of the Medical Faculty (luring his resi- 
 dence in that country. Loudon: Becket. 1769. 8vo. pp. 402. 
 
 T Remarks on the Review of the Controversy between 
 Great Britain and her Colonies, in which the Errors of its 
 Author are exposed, and the Claims of the Colonies vindicated, 
 upon the evidence of Historical Facts and authentic records, 
 to which is subjoined a proposal for terminating the present 
 unhappy dispute with the Colonies; recovering their Com- 
 merce; reconciliating their Affection; securing their rights; 
 and establishing their dependence on a just and permanent 
 basis. Huiubiy submitted to the consideration of the British 
 Legislature. By Edward Bancroft. 
 
 Consiiia qui dant prava cautis hominibus, 
 Et perdunt operain et deridentur turpiter. 
 
 Phced. Fab. xxv. 
 London: Printed in the year 17R9. New-London, in New Eng- 
 land: Reprinted and Sold bv T. Green. 1771. b'vo. pp. ISO. 
 . X Sparks's Franklin, iv. 483. 
 
 § Rose, Biog. Diet. 
 
 lege.* It is smoothly written, and among the 
 best of the many imitations of that pleasant cas- 
 tle in the air. 
 
 In this poem the author warms with his favor- 
 ite tastes in book<, for rural and domestic life. 
 In the first he shows his attachment to the ruling 
 poet of the day, " unequalled Pope." His choice 
 in a wife and a country-seat is to be commended. 
 With Freneau he has the honor of helping 
 Campbell with a line and an idea. Noticing the 
 physician Boerhaave, he writes of his death — 
 
 At length, fatigu'd with life, he bravely fell, 
 And Health, with Boerhaave, bade the world fare- 
 well ; 
 
 which will recall the lines in the Pleasures of 
 Hope, written nearly hah' a century later, where 
 
 Hope for a season bade the world farewell, 
 And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell. 
 
 The coincidence is creditable to Benjamin Church 
 at the age of eighteen. 
 
 He appears to have next studied medicine in 
 London, and while in England married Miss 
 Hannah Hill of Ross (Pope's Ross,). He returned 
 to Boston, where he established himself in the 
 practice of his profession. He contributed one 
 or two English poems to the Piefas et Gratulatio, 
 a volume of congratulatory verses in Latin, Greek, 
 and English, addressed to George III. on his 
 accession, by members of Harvard College. In 
 1765 lie published The Times, a poem by an Ame- 
 rican, in an anonymous pamphlet of sixteen pa- 
 ges. It was written soon after the passage of the 
 stamp act, and its satire is chiefly directed against 
 that measure and its abettors. In 1766 he wrote 
 an Elegy on the death of Dr. Mayhew, which is 
 characterized by much more than the ordinary 
 vigor sufficient for such productions. His in- 
 troduction invoking the spirit of truth over the 
 ashes of the dead, has such fines as these : — ■ 
 
 Great is the task and glorious is the end, 
 When the chaste Muse in Virtue's cause engage; 
 Tis Iter's to patronize, protect, defend, 
 And hold th' exemplars to a distant age. 
 
 Deep into times rolled by — to dart her ken, 
 At the tribunal of her lowly mind, 
 T' arraign the conduct of the mightiest men, 
 Acquit, or doom the Nimrods of mankind: 
 
 and in 1769 An Address to a Provincial BasJiaw. 
 By a Son of Liberty. Printed in (the Tyrannic 
 Administration of St. Francisco*) 1769. Like 
 The Times, it is full of the warmest expressions 
 of sympathy with the popular cause, of which 
 the author was now one of the recognised leaders. 
 In 1770 he examined the body of Crispus Attucks, 
 the mulatto slain in the Boston massacre, and Ins 
 depo.sition appears in the narrative published by 
 the town. In 1773 he delivered an oration on 
 the fourth anniversary of the contest in the Old 
 South church, which was so densely crowded 
 that the orator and moderator of the meeting, 
 John Hancock, had to be introduced through a 
 window. Public expectation was not disap- 
 pointed, the address being received with " univer- 
 
 * It is so stated in a reprint of the poem in 1S02, by Isaiah 
 Thomas. 
 t Governor Bernard. 
 
230 
 
 CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The OH South Church. 
 
 sal applause," and soon after printed by request. 
 It maintains its place in public estimation as one 
 of tbe best of the Boston Massacre orations. In 
 addition to these productions Church wrote An 
 Elegy to the memory of that pious and eminent 
 Servant of Jesus Christ, ike Reverend Mr. George 
 Whitefield, on his death September 30, 1770, and 
 was a frequent contributor of pulitiral essays and 
 popular songs to the periodicals of the day. He 
 was chosen a member of the Massachusetts Legis- 
 lature and of the Provincial Congress in 1774, 
 and in the same year physician-general to the 
 American army. 
 
 Church resided in an elegant mansion at Bayn- 
 ham, on Nippenickett pond, near Boston, which 
 he had erected about the year 1768, and where 
 he appears to have led an extravagant and licen- 
 tious life. "Want of money to support wasteful 
 expenditure seems, as in the case of Arnold, to 
 have led to the treason which suddenly changed 
 a career of honor to one of infamy. In 1774 
 Church was found to have written parodies of 
 popular songs composed by himself in favor of 
 liberty, for the Tory journals. It was also noticed 
 that his articles in defence of the American cause 
 were followed by ably written answers in the 
 government journals. General Gage was also 
 found to be constantly informed in relation to 
 the patriot movements. Soon after the battle of 
 Lexington in 1775 further suspicion was excited 
 by a visit which Church made to Boston on the 
 pretext of obtaining medicines for the use of the 
 army. He stated on his return that he was ar- 
 rested on crossing the lines and taken before 
 General Gage, who examined him ; but on the sub- 
 sequent testimony of Deacon Caleb Davis, who 
 happened to call at Gage's house at the same time, 
 he appears to have visited Gage more as a friend 
 than a prisoner. The charge of treasonable con- 
 duct seems to be further established by the testi- 
 mony of " a gentleman who studied with Church," 
 who stated to Paul Revere, of Boston, a year or 
 two after, that he knew for certain that, a short 
 time before the Battle of Lexington — for he then 
 
 lived with him and took care of his business and 
 books — he had no money by him, and was much 
 drove for money ; that all at once he had several 
 hundred new British guineas. 
 
 This double dealing was soon to be closed. On 
 the fifth of October of the same year Washington 
 writes to Hancock : " I Lave now a painful, 
 though necessary duty to perform, respecting Dr. 
 Church, director-general of the hospital. About 
 a week ago, Mr. Secretary Ward of Providence, 
 sent up to me one Wainwood, an inhabitant of 
 Newport, with a letter directed to Major Cane in 
 Boston, in characters ; which he said, had been 
 left with Wainwood some time ago, by a woman 
 who was kept by Dr. Church. She had before 
 pressed Wainwood to take her to Capt. Wallace, 
 at Newport, Mr. Dudley the collector, or George 
 Eowe, which he declined. She then gave him a 
 letter, with a strict charge to deliver it to either 
 of those gentlemen. He suspecting some im- 
 proper correspondence, kept the letter, and after 
 soine time opened it; but not being able to read 
 it, laid it up, where it remained until he received 
 an obscure letter from the woman, expressing an 
 anxiety after the original letter. He then com- 
 municated the whole matter to Mr. Ward, who 
 sent him up with the papers to me. I immedi- 
 ately secured the woman ; Tjut for a long time she 
 was proof against every threat and persuasion to 
 discover the author. However, at length she 
 was brought to a confession, and named Dr. 
 Church. I then immediately secured him, and 
 all his papers. Upon his first examination, he 
 readily acknowledged the letter; said it was de- 
 signed for his brother Fleming, and when deci- 
 phered would be found to contain nothing crimi- 
 nal. He acknowledged his never having commu- 
 nicated the correspondence to any person here 
 but the girl, and made many protestations of the 
 purity of his intentions. Baving found a person 
 capable of deciphering the letter, I, in the mean- 
 time, had all his papers searched, but found 
 nothing criminal among them. But it appeared, 
 on inquiry, that a confidant -had been among 
 the papers before my messenger arrived." 
 
 Church was convicted, by the General Court, 
 notwithstanding an eloquent defence made by 
 himself, in which he endeavored to prove that 
 his communications to the enemy were designed 
 to impress them with "a high opinion of the 
 strength of the Americans, in order that the medi- 
 tated attack might be delayed till the continental 
 army was stringer,''* and to obtain information 
 from the royalist forces which he had imparted 
 to the American leaders and used for the benefit 
 of his country.! He was expelled from the 
 House of Representatives of the State, and con- 
 victed by a court-martial at which Washington 
 presided. His sentence was referred to Congress, 
 and that body resolved that he be closely confined 
 in some secure jail in Connecticut,, without the 
 use of pen, ink, and paper ; and that no person 
 be allowed to converse with him except in the 
 presence and hearing of a magistrate, or the sheriff 
 of the county. I He was consequently imprisoned 
 in Norwich jail, but his health failing, was re- 
 
 * Kettel!, i. 147. 
 
 t Church's Defence is published in the Mass. Hist. Coil 
 
 X Itolines's Aunals, ii. 235. 
 
BENJAMIN CHURCH. 
 
 231 
 
 leased in May, 1776, and permitted to leave the 
 country. He sailed from Boston* for the West 
 Indies in a vessel which was never afterwards 
 heard from. His family received a pension from 
 the English crown. 
 
 THE CHOICE — A TOEM. 
 
 If youthful fancy might it's Choice pursue, 
 And act as natural reason prompts it to ; 
 If inclination could dispose our state, 
 And human will might govern future fate ; 
 Remote from grandeur, I'd be humbly wise, 
 And all the glitter of a court despise: 
 Dnskil'd the proud, or vicious to commend, 
 To cringe to insolence, or fools attend ; 
 Within myself contented and secure, 
 Above what mean ambition can endure ; 
 Nor yet so anxious to obtain a name. 
 To bleed, for honour on the fields of fame ; 
 Empty parade, is all that heroes know, 
 Unless fair Virtue hover in the show. 
 
 But in these walls, where Heav'n has fix'd my stay, 
 
 One half of life I'd wish to breathe away : 
 
 The fall and winter of each future year 
 
 I'd humbly hope to spend contented here ; 
 
 'Mid the fierce ravage of a wintry storm, 
 
 Kind friends to cheer me, moderate wine to warm, 
 
 Securely happy we'd delude the day, 
 
 And smile the seasons cheerfully away, 
 
 No needless show my modest dome should claim, 
 
 Neat and genteel without, within the same: 
 
 Decently furnish'd to content and please, 
 
 Sufficient for necessity and ease; 
 
 Vain is the pomp of prodigal expense, 
 
 Frugality denotes the man of sense; 
 
 My doors the needy stranger should befriend, 
 
 And hospitality my board attend ; 
 
 With frugal plenty be my table spread, 
 
 Those, and those only, whom I love be fed: 
 
 The meek and indigent my banquet share, 
 
 Who love the master, and approve the fare; 
 
 Thy mellow vintage, Lisbon! should abound, 
 
 Pouring a mirthful inspiration round; 
 
 While laughing Bacchus bathes within the bowl, 
 
 Love, mirth, and friendship swallow up the soul. 
 
 I'd have few friends, and those by nature true, 
 Sacred to friendship, and to virtue too; 
 Tho' but to few an intimate protest, 
 I'd be no foe, nor useless to the rest : 
 Each friend belov'd requires a friendly care, 
 His griefs, dejections, and his fate to shnre ; 
 For this rny choice should be to bounds coufiu'd, 
 Nor with a burst of passion flood mankind. 
 
 Above the rest, one dear selected friend, 
 Kind to advise, and cautious to offend ; 
 To malice, envy, and to pride unknown, 
 Nor apt to censure foibles, but his own ; 
 Firm in religion, in his morals just, 
 Wise in discerning, and advising best ; 
 Learn'd without pedantry, in temper kind. 
 Soft in his manners, happy in his mind ; 
 Is there in whom these social virtues blend, 
 The Muse lisps Pollio, and she calls him friend : 
 To him, when flnsh'd with transport I'd repair, 
 His faithful bosom should my solace share ; 
 
 * Tho authorities differ both as to the birth-place of Dr. 
 Church and the port from which he finally left his country; 
 Boston being assigned as the scene of both exploits by some, 
 and Newport by others. We have followed in both cases the 
 narrative of Mr. Lorinu, in the Hundred Boston Orators, 
 which he states to be derived from a descendant of Hannah, 
 the daughter of Dr. Church, and wife of William Kirkby, a 
 merchant of London. 
 
 To him I'd fly when sorrows prove too great, 
 To him discover all the stings of fate: 
 His social soul should all my pangs allay, 
 Tune every nerve and charm my griefs away. 
 how I wish to join the friendly throng, 
 Elude the hours, and harmonize the song ; 
 Eacli generous soul still sedulous to please, 
 With calm good temper, and with mutual ease ; 
 Glad to receive and give, the keen reply, 
 Nor approbation to the jest deny. 
 
 But at a decent hour with social heart, 
 
 In love and humour should my friends depart : 
 
 Then to my study, eager I'd repair, 
 
 And feast my miud with new refreshment there ; 
 
 There plung'd in tho't my active mind should tread, 
 
 Through all the labours of the learned dead ; 
 
 Homer, great parent of heroiek strains, 
 
 Virgil, whose genius was improv'dwith pains; 
 
 Horace, in whom the Avit and courtier join'd, 
 
 Ovid, the tender, amorous and refin'd ; 
 
 Keen Juvenal, whose all-correcting page, 
 
 Lasli'd daring vice, and shain'd an impious age ; 
 
 Expressive Luean who politely sung, 
 
 With hum'rous Martial tickling as he stung ; 
 
 Elaborate Terence, studious where he smil'd, 
 
 Familiar Plautus, regularly wild ; 
 
 With frequent visit these I would survey, 
 
 And read, and meditate the hours away. 
 
 Nor these alone should on my shelves recline, 
 But awful Pope! majestically shine, 
 Unequal'd bard! Who durst thy praise engage? 
 Not yet grown reverend with the rust of age; 
 Sure Heav'n alone thy art unrival'd taught, 
 To think so well, so well express the thought ; 
 What villain hears thee, but regrets the smart ? 
 But tears the lurking demon from his heart? 
 A^irtue attends thee with the best applause, 
 Conscious desert ! great victor in her cause, 
 She faithful to thy worth, thy name shall grace, 
 Beyond all period, and beyond all space: 
 Go, shine a seraph and thy notes prolong 
 For angels only merit such a song ! 
 
 Hail Briton's genius, Milton! deathless name! 
 
 Blest with a full satiety of fame: 
 
 Who durst attempt impertinence of praise ? 
 
 Or sap insidious thy eternal bays? 
 
 For greater song, or more exalted fame, 
 
 Exceeds humanity to make, or claim. 
 
 These to peruse, I'd oft forget to dine, 
 
 And suck refection from each mighty line. 
 
 Next Addison's great labours should' be join'd, 
 
 Prais'd by all tongues and known to all mankind : 
 
 With Littleton the tender and correct, 
 
 And copious Dryden, glorious in defect; 
 
 Nor would I leave the great and pious Young, 
 
 Divinely fir'd, and sublime in song. 
 
 Next would I add the unaffected Gay, 
 
 And gentle Waller, with his flowing lay ; 
 
 Last nature-limning Thomson should appear, 
 
 Who link'd eternity within his year. 
 
 These for diversion, with the comic throng, 
 
 Should raise my fancy, and improve my song ; 
 
 Extend my view, 'till opening visions roll, 
 
 And all Piaeria burets upon my souL 
 
 But to inform the mind, and mend the heart, 
 j Great Tillotson and Butler, light impart ; 
 ; Sagacious Newton, with all science blest, 
 
 And Locke, who always thought and reason'd best 
 
 But lo! for real worth, and true desert, 
 Exhaustless science, and extensive art, 
 Boerhaave superior stands ; in whom we find 
 The other Saviour of diseas'd mankind : 
 
232 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE. 
 
 Whose skilful hand could almost life create, 
 And make us leap the very bounds of fate ; 
 Death, tyrant death, beholding his decline, 
 That Boerhaave would his kingdom undermine, 
 Arm'd with his surest shafts attaek'd this foe, 
 Who long eluded the repeated throw, 
 At length fatigu'd with life, he bravely fell, 
 And health with Boerhaave bade the world farewell. 
 Thus 'till the year recedes, I'd be employed, 
 Ease, health and friendship happily enjoy'd; 
 But when the vernal sun revolves its ray, 
 Melting hoar winter with her rage away, 
 When vocal groves a gay perspective yield, 
 And a new verdure springs from field to field: 
 With the first larks I'd to the plains retire, 
 For rural pleasures are my chief desire. 
 
 Ah doubly blest! on native verdure laid, 
 
 Whose fields support him, and whose arbours shade ; 
 
 In his own hermitage in peace resides, 
 
 Faun'd by his breeze, and slumb'ring by his tides: 
 
 Who drinks a fragrance from paternal groves, 
 
 Nor lives ungrateful for the. life he loves. 
 
 I'd have a handsome seat not far from town, 
 The prospect beauteous, and the taste my own; 
 The fabrick modern, faultless the design, 
 Not large, nor yet immoderately fine ; 
 But neat economy my mansion boast, 
 Nor should convenience be in beauty lost: 
 Each part should speak superior skill and care, 
 And all the artist be distinguish'd there. 
 On some small elevation should it stand, 
 And a free prospect to the South command ; 
 Where safe from damps I'd snuff the wholesome gale, 
 And life and vigour thro' the lungs inhale ; 
 Eastward my moderate fields should wave with 
 
 grain, 
 Southward the verdure of a broad champaign ; 
 Where gamesome flocks, and rampant herds might 
 
 play, 
 To the warm sunshine of the vernal day ; 
 Northward, a garden on a slope should Me, 
 Finely adjusted to the nicest e}'e ; 
 In midst of this should stand a cherry grove, 
 A breezy, blooming canopy of love ! 
 Whose blossom'd boughs the tuneful choir should 
 
 cheer, 
 And pour regalement on the eye and ear : 
 A gay parterre the vivid box should bound, 
 To waft a fragrance thro' the fields around ; 
 Where blushing fruits might tempt another Eve, 
 Without another serpent to deceive. 
 Westward, I'd have a thick-set forest grow, 
 Thro' which the bounded sight should scarcely go ; 
 Confus'dly rude, the scenery should impart, 
 A view of nature unimprov'd by art. — 
 
 Rapt in the soft retreat, my anxious breast 
 Pants eager still for something unpossess'd ; 
 Whence springs this sudden hope, this warm desire ? 
 To what enjoyment would my soul aspire? 
 "Pis love! extend my wishes, and my care, 
 Eden was tasteless 'till an Eve was there: 
 Almighty love! I own thy powerful swav, 
 Resign my soul, and willingly obey. 
 
 Grant me, kind heav'n, the nymph still forrn'd to 
 
 please, ' 
 Impassiouate as infants when at ease ; 
 Fair as the op'ning rose ; her person small, 
 Artless as parent Eve before her fall; 
 Courteous as angels, unre'serv'dlv kind, • 
 Of modest carriage, and the chastest mind ; 
 Her temper sweet, her conversation keen, 
 Not wildly gay, but soberly serene ; 
 
 Not talkative, nor apt to take offence. 
 With female softness join'd to manly sense ; 
 Her dress and language elegantly plain. 
 Not sluttish, forward, prodigal, or vain ; 
 Not proud of beauty, nor elate with praise, 
 Not fond to govern, but by choice obeys; 
 True to my arms in body and in soul, 
 As the touch'd needle to th' attractive pole. 
 Caution, oppos'd to charms like these were vain. 
 And man would glory in the silken chain ; 
 Unlike the sensual wish that burns and stains, 
 But where the purest admiration reigns ; 
 Give me, give me ! such superior love, 
 Before the nectar of the gods above ; 
 Then time on downy wings would steal away, 
 And love still be the business of the day. 
 
 While sporting flocks in fond rotations court, 
 
 And to the thicket pair by pair resort; 
 
 While tuneful birds in tender murmurings plead, 
 
 Chanting their amorous carols thro' the mead: 
 
 Link'd arm in arm we'd search the twilight grove. 
 
 Where all inspires with harmony and love: 
 
 Ye boughs, your friendly umbrage wide extend! 
 
 Guard from rude eyes, and from the sun defend : . 
 
 Ye wanton gales! pant gently on my fair, 
 
 Thou love-inspiring goddess meet us there! 
 
 While soft invited, and with joy obey'd, 
 
 We press the herbage, and improve the shade. 
 
 But is th' Almighty ever bound to please? 
 Rul'd by my wish, or studious of my ease? 
 Shall I determine where his frowns shall fall? 
 And fence my grotto from the lot of all! 
 Prostrate, his sovereign wisdom I adore, 
 Intreat his mercy, but I dare no more: 
 No constant joys mortality attend, 
 But sorrows violate, and cares offend ; 
 Heav'n wisely mixt our pleasures with alloy. 
 And gilds our sorrows with a ray of joy ; 
 Life without storms a stagnant pool appeare--, 
 And grows offensive with unruffled years. 
 An active state is virtue's proper sphere, 
 To do, and suffer is our duty here : 
 Foes to encounter, vices to disdain, 
 Pleasures to shun, and passions to restrain; 
 To fly temptation's open, flow'ry road, 
 And labour to be obstinately good. 
 
 Then, blest is he who takes a calm survey, 
 Of all th' events that paint the checquer'd day ; 
 Content, that blessing makes the balance evan, 
 And poises fortune, by the scale of heav'n. 
 
 I'll let no future ill my peace destroy, 
 Or cloud the aspect of apresent joy ; 
 He who directed and dispens'd the past, 
 O'errules the present, and shall guide the last, 
 If Providence a present good has giv'n, 
 I clasp the boon in gratitude to heav'n: 
 May resignation fortify my mind, 
 He cannot be unhappy that's resign'd. 
 Guard my repose, thou Lord of all within ! 
 An equal temper, and a soul serene , 
 
 ! teach me patience when oppos'd to wrong. 
 
 Restrain the mad'ning heart, and curb the tongn" ; 
 
 May prudence govern, piety control, 
 
 All' slander, rage, and bitterness of soul: 
 
 Peace, plenty, health and innocence be made. 
 
 The blissful tenants of my tranquil shade. 
 
 let me not maliciously comply, 
 
 To that curst action that shall raise a sigh : 
 
 I Or cause the wretched orphan to complain. 
 
 I Or see the widow's tears, and see in vain : 
 From a remorseless soul set me free, 
 
 j And prompt a pang for every wretoh I see. 
 
ELIZABETH FERGUSON". 
 
 233 
 
 Whatever station be for me design'd, 
 May virtue be the mistress of my mind: 
 May I despise th' abandou'd and the base, 
 Tho' opulent, or dignified with place ; 
 And spurn the wretch, who, meanly lost to shame, 
 Thinks wealth or place, a substitute for fame : 
 If wisdom, wealth, or honour, heav'n lend, 
 Teach me those talents happily to spend; 
 Nor make so blest, as I would wish to live, 
 Beyond those moments Heav'n is pleas'd to give ; 
 Then when life trembles on the verge of rest, 
 And brings expended minutes to the test ; 
 Absolve me conscience, thou imperial power! 
 O bless me with a self-approving hour. 
 
 ELIZABETH FERGUSON". 
 Elizabeth, the youngest child of Dr. Thomas 
 Graeme, a distinguished physician of Philadel- 
 phia, and a grand-daughter on the mother's side 
 of Sir William Keith, Governor of Pennsylvania, 
 was horn in the year 1739. Her early years were 
 passed at Graeme Park, the country seat of her 
 father, about twenty miles from Philadelphia, a 
 place celebrated alike for its cultivated beauties 
 and the hospitalities of its host ; where she enjoyed 
 the society of a numerous and refined circle of 
 persons. In her seventeenth year she became 
 engaged to a young gentleman. The marriage was 
 to be celebrated after his return from a residence 
 in London, for the completion of his legal studies. 
 The match was for unexplained reasons broken 
 off, an event productive of much mental suffering 
 to Miss Graeme. To divert her mind by occupa- 
 tion, she commenced and completed a translation 
 of Fenelon , « Telcmaqw in English blank verse. 
 It has never been published, but the MS. has 
 been deposited in tho Philadelphia Library. She 
 devoted herself so closely to this task that her 
 health was impaired, ami a voyage to Europe be- 
 came necessary, as a means of restoration. Her 
 mother urged her departure not only from solici- 
 tude for tlie daughter's health, but from astrange 
 wish that her mind might not be distracted from 
 spiritual contemplation by her daughter's presence 
 at her anticipated speedy dissolution. 
 
 The daughter departed, and the mother died, 
 as she had anticipated, during her absence. 
 
 Miss Graeme was accompanied in her visit to 
 England by the Rev. Dr. Richard Peters, of Phi- 
 ladelphia, by whom she was introduced to many 
 of the leading literary men of the day. Acciden- 
 tally taking a seat at the York races, next to 
 Lawrence Sterne, her remark on betting a small 
 sum on one of the horses in the rear at the outset, 
 that " the race was not always to the swift nor the 
 battle to the strong," attracted his notice, and turn- 
 ing to her he requested the honor of her acquain- 
 tance. The incident was followed by a long ami 
 agreeable conversation. 
 
 She was much visited on her return, and a 
 Journal which she had prepared of her travels, 
 was much sought after. She was urged to pub- 
 lish it, but declined. Her society was eagerly 
 sought, and on Saturday evenings, when she re- 
 mained at home to receive her friends, her father's 
 house was thronged by delighted guests. 
 
 One of these Saturday evening visitors was 
 Mr. Hugh Henry Ferguson, a handsome young 
 Scotchman, who was so charmed by his hostess, 
 that, though ten years her junior, he offered her 
 his hand. He was accepted, and in a few months 
 
 married. They settled at Graeme Park, which, 
 by the death of her father, had become Mrs. Fer- 
 guson's property, where they resided until the 
 outbreak of the Revolution in 1775 ; when the 
 husband took the side of the Crown, and the pair 
 separated, and were not again united. Mrs. Fer- 
 guson remained at her country residence, where 
 she performed in an unostentatious manner many 
 acts of benevolence, among which are recorded 
 the gift of a large quantity of linen to the Ameri- 
 can prisoners taken at the battle of Germautown, 
 and the gift of twenty .dollars, the eighth part of 
 her income at the time, to a ruined merchant 
 thrown into jail by his creditors. She refused to 
 give her name to the beneficiary, and the good 
 deed was only discovered by his description of her 
 person being identified. 
 
 Mrs. Ferguson figures in the history of the Re- 
 volution as the bearer, immediately after the 
 British occupation of Philadelphia, of an offensive 
 letter from the Rev. Mr. Duehe to Washington. 
 The General sent the letter to Congress, and hint- 
 ed to Mrs. Ferguson, that he " highly disapproved 
 the intercourse she seemed to have been carrying 
 on, and expected it would be discontinued." She 
 does not seem to have profited by this, as Ave soon 
 after find her mixed up in the proposal of Gover- 
 nor Johnstone to offer Joseph Reed " ten thou- 
 sand guineas and the best post in the government" 
 to exert his influence with Washington, and in 
 other directions, " to settle the contest," the only 
 result of which was the memorable reply of Reed 
 reported by Mrs. Ferguson in a narrative of the 
 transaction, which she afterwards published in her 
 own defence. "My influence is but small, but 
 were it as great as Governor Johnstone would in- 
 sinuate, the king of Great Britain has nothing 
 within his gift that would tempt me."* ' 
 
 Mrs. Ferguson's correspondence is spoken of as 
 exerting a wide influence, and evidencing high 
 intellectual power. Several of her letters have 
 been printed in the Port Folio. Her social influ- 
 ence was also great and beneficial : under her 
 care her nephew, John Young, when a hoy of 
 twelve, is said to have been strangely imbued with 
 a taste for literature by being locked up for twen- 
 ty-four hours for some offence by his aunt in her 
 father's library, where he, to relieve his imprison- 
 ment, took up a book and became so interested in 
 its contents that he not only read other books un- 
 der more favorable circumstances, but in due time 
 made a contribution to literature by translating 
 D'Argent's Ancient Geography. He died a Lieu- 
 tenant in the British army. The copy of his 
 translation in the Philadelphia library contains a 
 tribute to his memory by Mrs. Ferguson. 
 
 Although nearly ruined in consequence of the 
 war, Mrs. Ferguson steadily refused to receive any 
 of the pecuniary aid pressed upon her by her 
 friends; her simple mode of life rendering her in- 
 dependent. She took much interest in theology; 
 and to impress the Bible more firmly on her me- 
 mory, transcribed its entire contents. 
 
 During the latter part of her life, she suffered 
 severe pain from sickness. She died on the twen- 
 ty-third day of February, 1601, at the house of a 
 Quaker, Seneca Lukens, near Graeme Park, and 
 was interred, in accordance with her previously 
 
 * Life of Joseph Eeed, by Win. B. Reed. i. 887. 
 
234 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 expressed request, beside her parents in the grave- 
 yard of Christ Church, Philadelphia.* 
 
 The poems of Evans contain a poetical corres- 
 pondence between Miss Graeme, under the name 
 of Laura, and himself, growing out of a passage in 
 Pope, which presents a pleasant specimen of the 
 lady's early versification, We extract the whole, 
 as the individual portions mutually illustrate each 
 other; and the Rev. Nathaniel Evans being but 
 a few years the lady's junior, is soon to be in due 
 course presented to the reader. 
 
 60ME LINES OUT OF ME. POPE'S ELOI5E TO AEET.AKO. 
 
 How happy is the blameless vestal's lot ? 
 The world forgetting, by the world forgot; 
 Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind ; 
 Each prayer accepted and each wish resign'd : 
 Labour and rest, that equal periods keep ; 
 Obedient slumbers, that can wake and weep ; 
 Desires compos'd, affections ever even ; 
 Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heaven. 
 Grace shines arouDd her with serenest beams. 
 And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dream;. 
 For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring, 
 For her white virgins hymeneals sing; 
 For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, 
 And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; 
 To sounds of heav'nly harps'she dies away, 
 And melts in visions of eternal day. 
 
 A PAEODY ON TnE FOREGOING LINES BY A LADY ASSEMTNG THE 
 NA.ME OF LAUKA. 
 
 How happy is the country Parson's lot ? 
 Forgetting Bishops, as by them forgot ; 
 Tranquil of spirit, with an easy mind. 
 To all his Vestry's votes he sits resign'd : 
 Of manners gentle, and of temper even, 
 He jogs his flocks, with easy pace, to heaven. 
 In Greek and Latin, pious books he keeps; 
 And, while his clerk sings psalms, he — soundly sleeps. 
 His garden fronts the sun's sweet orient beams, 
 And fat church-wardens prompt his golden dreams. 
 The earliest fruit, in his fair orchard, blooms ; 
 And cleanly pipes pour out tobacco's fumes. 
 From rustic bridegroom oft he takes the ring ; 
 And hears the milk-maid plaintive ballads sing. 
 Back-gammon cheats whole winter nights away, 
 And Pilgrim's Progress helps a rainy day. 
 
 N. B. The foregoing Parody occasioned the following epis- 
 tolary contest, and poetical Raillery, between our Author and 
 Laura. 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO LATTEA, ON HEP. PAEODY. 
 
 I lately saw. no matter where, 
 A parody by Laura fair ; 
 In which beyond dispute, 'tis clear, 
 She means her country friend to jeer; 
 For, well she knows, her pleasing lays, 
 (Whether they banter me or praise, 
 Whatever merry mood they take) 
 Are welcome for their author's sake. 
 
 Tobacco vile, I never smoak, 
 (Tho' Laura loves her friend to joke) 
 Nor leave my flock all in the lurch, 
 By being lullaby'd in church ; 
 But, change tho word from clerk to priest, 
 Perhaps I lull my sheep to rest. 
 
 As for the table of "Back-gammon, 
 'Tis far beyond the reach of Damon : 
 But, place right gammon on a table, 
 And then to play a knife — I'm able. 
 
 * The Portfolio, quoted in Hazard's Pennsylvania P.egister, 
 iii. 394. 
 
 " How happy is my lot'' yon say, 
 Because from Bishops far away ! 
 Happy I am, I'll not deny, 
 But then it is when you are nigh : 
 Or gently rushes o'er my mind 
 Th' idea of the nymph refin'd ; 
 In whom each grace and virtue meet, " 
 That render woman-kind complete; 
 The sense, the taste, the lovely mien 
 OS Stella, pride of Patrick's Bean. 
 
 Laura ! when I think of this, 
 And call you friend — 'tis greater bliss, 
 Than all the "fat church-wardens' schemes." 
 Which rarely " prompt my golden dreams;"- 
 Yet, if the happiness, fair maid, 
 That sooths me in the silent shade, 
 Should, in your eye, appear too great, 
 Come, take it all — and share my fate ! 
 
 lauea's answee. 
 Latjea to Damon health doth send, 
 And thus salutes her saucy friend. 
 
 Because you would exert your wit, 
 You take the cap ne'er made to fit ; 
 And then your sprightly verse display, 
 To prove me out in every way — 
 But I'll proceed, nor care one farthing ; 
 Nor shall you make me sue for pardon, 
 Nor once recant what I asserted, 
 Tho' from my pen in haste it flirted. 
 
 Truly, because you do inherit 
 Some portion of the Bean's queer spirit, 
 You want to prove, in wondrous haste, 
 That Laura too has Stella's taste; 
 As if it must directly follow, 
 Since you are favour'd by Apollo, 
 That he his choicest gifts must send. 
 To ev'ry scribbling female friend. 
 I thank you, sir — you're wond'rous kind ! 
 But think me not so vain or blind, 
 As to believe the pretty things, 
 Your muse, with ease, at Laura flings. 
 
 'Tis true, the moments I beffuil'd, 
 And at a country piarson smil'd ; 
 Unhappy me! who ne'er could dream, 
 That you should think yourself the theme : 
 Unless my muse, thro' rank ill-nature, 
 Had turn'd wh:it follows into satyr — 
 
 " A manner frank and debonnair, 
 A heart that's open and sincere, 
 Plain sense, stript of pedantic rules, 
 And formal precepts, hateh'd in schools: 
 Firm honesty without parade, 
 Simplicity in truth array'd ; 
 A sprightly vein of humour too, 
 Known only by a favour'd few." 
 
 Had Madam Muse, in spleen or spight, 
 Plac'd all those graces in a light, 
 To make us laugh, more than admire — 
 Then Damon might have taken fire, 
 And said — 'tis past dispnte and clear, 
 Imeant my country friend to jeer. 
 
 Yet, e'er I close — allow me time, 
 But just to add another rhyme. 
 Since I esteem your bliss so great, 
 In penance you will ehuse a mate, 
 And tell me — " I may share your fate !' 
 The scheme is good, I must confess, 
 If you have blis*?, to make it less ! 
 Yet take a hint, before resolv'd, 
 And in the dragging chain involv'd. 
 While youthful joys around you shine, 
 
JAMES ALLEN. 
 
 235 
 
 Haste not to bend at Hymen's shrine ; 
 Let friendship, gen'rous friendship, be 
 The bond to fetter you and me, 
 Vestal, Platonic — what you will, 
 So virtue reigns with freedom still. 
 But if, in matrimonial noose, 
 You must be bound — : and have a spouse ; 
 The faithful rib that lieav'n shall send, 
 I'll fondly greet, and call her friend. 
 
 TO LAtJRA ; IN KEPLT TO TnE ABOVE. 
 
 Laura, for once excuse, I pray, 
 The pertness of a rural lay: 
 And I will ne'er again offend, 
 Or need the name of saucy friend ; 
 
 Stella, (for now I see it clearly, 
 Who loves a little mischief dearly) 
 Resolv'd to carry a gay farce on, 
 Told me I was the country parson, 
 Described in your melodious strain : 
 To which I uow return again. 
 
 I, like my namesake without* guile, 
 Thought in my turn that I might smile, 
 So seis'd my pen, in a brisk sally, 
 Determiu'd to pay off the tally ; 
 And, in a fit of warm regard, 
 Dropt a few words — quite off my guard ; 
 For which I Laura's mercy crave, 
 And shall remain her humble slave — 
 She's pleas'd to say, that " I inherit, 
 Some portion of the Dean's queer spirit." 
 If aught in me was ever seen. 
 Resembling Patrick's boasted Dean: 
 It was his faults, I fear — rank pride, 
 Which, for my life, I cannot hide, 
 And one less vain than Swift — or me, 
 Miglit e'en both proud and saucy be, 
 When such fine things of him are said 
 By Laura, the harmonious maid; 
 Yet still her compliments, I fear, 
 Are only sent her friend to jeer, 
 Or sugar o'er a little smart. 
 And close the bleedings of a heart — 
 Thus, without cause, when children cry, 
 And put their finger in their eye, 
 Kind mamma gives them aught that's handy, 
 Cakes, marmalade, or sugar-candy. 
 
 Fair Laura hints — the hint I take, 
 And honour for its mistress' sake — 
 Yet when great Cupid is inclin'd, 
 To fix his empire o'er my mind, 
 A silken cord, no " dragging chain," 
 Shall lead me to his sacred fane ; 
 For none, I trust, shall e'er discover, 
 In me aught like the whimp'ring lover: 
 The fault'ring voice, the sigh of care, 
 The languid look, the dying air. 
 When abject thus behaves the muse, 
 May I kind Laura's friendship lose, 
 That friendship which I dearer hold, 
 Than silver heaps or shining gold. 
 
 And now, farewell ! — may ev'ry hour 
 Fresh happiness on Laura pour — 
 Whether in sacred wedlock joiu'd, 
 Or to the Vestal state inclin'd ; 
 May constant joys before her rise, 
 Till, for low earth, she gains the skies ! 
 
 * Nathaniel. 
 
 JAMES ALLEN. 
 
 James Allen, the son of a wealthy merchant of 
 Boston, was born in that city, July 24th, 1739. 
 He entered Harvard College, but owing to his in- 
 dolent habits and a supposed want of orthodoxy, 
 left the institution at the end of the third year of 
 his course. He resided, after this, in Boston, 
 occasionally amusing himself by writing essays or 
 verses, but without any serious devotion to literary 
 or professional pursuits. He died, a bachelor, in 
 1808. 
 
 The publication of his chief production, Lines 
 on the Massacre, is due more to accident than 
 design. It was written at the request of Dr. War- 
 Ten, to accompany the oration on the same sub- 
 ject, which the doctor had been appointed to 
 deliver. The poem was submitted to the com- 
 mittee having the matter in hand, who decided 
 that it should be printed with the oration, but 
 afterwards, owing to suspicions as to the writer's 
 political faith, it was suppressed. Allen, with his 
 usual indolence, gave himself no trouble about 
 the matter, but his friends, indignant at the treat- 
 ment the poet had received, procured a copy 
 from him, and published it, with ■ extracts from 
 The Retrospect, another poem by the same hand, 
 which they accompanied by a commentary by 
 themselves, exhibiting the author's political sound- 
 ness and poetical merits.* 
 
 Allen also wrote a patriotic epic, entitled 
 Bit nicer Hill, but after making arrangements f;r 
 its publication, was too listless to proceed further, 
 and the manuscript is now supposed to be lost. 
 These, with the exception of a few slight maga- 
 zine pieces, form the whole of his writings. 
 
 FROM THE POEM ON THE MASSACRE. 
 
 From realms of bondage, and a tyrant's reign, 
 
 Our godlike fathers bore no' slavish chain. 
 
 To Pharaoh's face the inspired patriarchs stood, 
 
 To seal their virtue, with a martyr's blood ; 
 
 But lives so precious, such a sacred seed, 
 
 The source of empires, heaven's high will decreed; 
 
 He snatch'd the saints from Pharaoh's impious hand, 
 
 And bid his chosen seek this distant land: 
 
 Thus to these climes the illustrious exiles sped, 
 
 'T was freedom prompted, and the Godhead led. 
 
 Eternal woods the virgin soil defaced, 
 
 A dreary desert, and a howling waste; 
 
 The haunt of tribes no pity taught to spare, 
 
 And they opposed them with remorseless war. 
 
 But' heaven's right arm led forth the faithful train, 
 
 The guardian Godhead swept the insidious plain, 
 
 Till the scour'd thicket amicable stood, 
 
 Nor dastard ambush trench'd the dusky wood : 
 
 Our sires then earn'd no more precarious bread, 
 
 Nor 'midst alarms their frugal meals were spread. 
 
 Fair boding hopes inured their hands to toil, 
 
 And patriot virtue nursed the thriving soil, 
 
 Nor scarce two ages have their periods run, 
 
 Since o'er their culture smiled the genial sun; 
 
 And now what states extend their fair domains, 
 
 O'er fleecy mountains, and luxuriant plains 1 
 
 Where happy millions their own fields possess, 
 
 No tyrant awes them, and no lords oppress; 
 
 The hand of rule, divine discretion guides, 
 
 And white-robed virtue o'er her path presides, 
 
 Each policed order venerates the laws, 
 
 * The Pnom which the committee of the town of Boston 
 had voted unanimously to be published with the late oration. 
 Boston, E. Russell, 1772. Pp. 80. 
 
236 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And each, ingenuous, speaks in freedom's cause ; 
 Not Spartan spirit, nor the Roman name, 
 The patriot's pride, shall rival these in fame; 
 Here all the sweets that social life can know, 
 From the full fount of civil sapience flow ; 
 Here golden Ceres clothes th' autumnal plain, 
 And art's fair empress holds her new domain ; 
 Here angel Science spreads her lucid wing, 
 And hark, how sweet the new-born muses sing; 
 Here generous Commerce spreads her liberal hand, 
 And scatters foreign blessings round the land. 
 Shall meagre mammon, or proud lust of sway, 
 Reverse these scenes — will heaven permit the day? 
 Shall in this era all our hopes expire, 
 And weeping freedom from her fanes retire ? 
 Here shall the tyrant still our peace pursue, 
 From the pain'd eyebrow drink the vital dew ? 
 Not nature's barrier wards our father's foe, 
 Seas roll in vain, and boundless oceans flow. 
 
 ST. GEOEGE TUCKEE. 
 Judge TrcKEn, of Virginia, was born in the 
 island of Bermuda, June 29, 1752 O. S., went 
 to college at William and Mary, in Williamsburg, 
 and in 1778 married Mrs. Randolph, the mother 
 of John Randolph of Roanoke. He became 
 
 W^^) 
 
 Judge of the Court of Appeals in 1803, on the 
 death of Edmund Pendleton. He published an 
 essay on the question, How far the Common Law 
 of England is the Common Law of the United 
 States ; a treatise on Slavery, in 1796 ; a letter on 
 the Alien and Sedition Laws, 1799, and an anno- 
 tated edition of Blackstone. He died in Nelson 
 county, Virginia, in November, 1827. He was a, 
 man of literary taste, great amiability, and 
 thorough patriotism in the revolutionary struggle. 
 These fugitive stanzas, attributed to his pen, are 
 much admired : — 
 
 Days of my youth, ye have glided away ; 
 Hairs of my youth, ye are frosted and grey; 
 Eyes of my youth, your keen sight is no more ; 
 Cheeks of my youth, ye are furrowed all o'er ; 
 Strength of my youth, all your vigor is gone ; 
 Thoughts of my youth, your gay visions are flown. 
 
 Days of my youth, I wish not your recall ; 
 Hairs of my youth, I'm content ye should fall : 
 Eyes of my youth, you much evil have seen ; 
 Cheeks of my youth, bathed in tears have you been ; 
 Thoughts of my youth, ye have led me astray: 
 Strength of my youth, why lament your decay. 
 
 Days of my age, ye will shortly be past; 
 Pains of my age, yet awhile ye can last ; 
 Joys of my age, in true wisdom delight: 
 Eyes of my age, be religion your light; 
 Thoughts of my age, dread ye not the cold sod ; 
 Hopes of my age, be ye fixed on your God. 
 
 ELIAS BOtTDLNOT. 
 
 Elias BoTTDrxoT, of one of the numerous Hugue- 
 not families which, taking refuge in America from 
 
 persecutions in France, made its return in patri- 
 otic efforts when America was to be defended, 
 was born in Philadelphia, May 2d, 1740. He 
 studied law with Richard Stockton, and his first 
 wife was a sister of that distinguished statesman. 
 He married, afterwards, a lady of New York, of 
 the Beekman family, who survived him. 
 
 Boudinot became distinguished as a member of 
 Congress, of which bod}- he was President in 1782, 
 and was rewarded by Washington with the ap- 
 pointment of Director of the Mint, as the succes- 
 sor of Rittenhouse, in 1796. He was the first pre- 
 sident of the American Bible Society, on its crea- 
 tion in 1816. He took great interest in the cause 
 of missions, particularly with reference to the In- 
 dians, the question of whose descent he endeavored 
 to solve in his elaborate volume, A Star in the 
 West; or a hwrible attempt to discover the long 
 lost ten tribes of Israel, preparatory to their 
 return to their beloved city, Jerusalem. This he 
 published at Trenton, in New Jersey, in 1816. It 
 is a curious work, which displays considerable 
 diligence in the collection of facts and conjectures, 
 and is written with an unaffected tone of sincerity, 
 The writer evidently regarded the work as a 
 religious duty. From his study of the sacred 
 writing?, his own observations of the Indian 
 character, and the writings of Adair (who had 
 taken this view), Colden, Brainerd, and others 
 furnishing facts exhibiting similarity of customs, 
 he established himself in the conclusion that the 
 American Indians were the descendants of the 
 lost tribes. 
 
 He also published, in 1790, The Aye of Reve- 
 lation ; or the Age of Reason an Age of Infidelity ; 
 an oration before the Society of Cincinnati, 1793 ; 
 and The Second Advent of the Messiah, 1815. 
 He was generous and public-spirited, giving the 
 Bible Society on one occasion ten thousand dol- 
 lars, and founding in his lifetime a costly cabinet 
 of natural history at Princeton. He left nu- 
 merous liberal legacies at his death, for charitable 
 uses. 
 
 THEODOEIC BLAND. EICHAED BLAND. 
 
 Col. Theodoeic Bland was of an old Virginia 
 family, and the uncle of John Randolph. He was 
 born in 1742. He was educated in Great Britain, 
 at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, at a school to which 
 Richard Henry Lee had been sent, and at Edin- 
 
 burgh, where he received his Doctor's degree. In 
 1764 or '5, he returned to America, and practised 
 medicine in Virginia. At the outbreak of the 
 Revolution he celebrated the Battle of Lexington, 
 in some verses, and took part in the struggle as a 
 captain of Virginia cavalry. Col. Bland was 
 present at the Battle of Brandywine, and enjoyed 
 the respect and confidence of Washington, who 
 frequently corresponded with him. He was a 
 member of Congress from 1779 to 1783, and was 
 again elected to the new Congress, in attendance 
 upon which, at New York, he died June 1, 1790. 
 Col. Bland held a correspondence with the 
 leading actors of the Revolution, which he pre-, 
 served with care, but which was exposed to the 
 
NATHANIEL EVANS. 
 
 237 
 
 disaster of two fires. What escape J those injuries 
 was nearly lost by ' negligence, a negro man on 
 one occasion offering eggs for sale in a basket 
 lined with the manuscripts of Washington, picked 
 from the damaged remnants of the collection in a 
 cellar. John Randolph in vain endeavored to 
 get possession of the papers. The remnants were 
 at last secured by a Virginia gentleman of anti- 
 quarian tastes, Mr. Charles Campbell, by whom 
 thev were published as The Bland Papers, in 
 1840 and 1843* 
 
 Mr. Campbell lias preserved in his memoir por- 
 tions of the verses, the manuscript of which was 
 considerably broken. This is the close : — 
 
 Shall Brunswick's line, exalted high, 
 And freely placed on Britain's throne. 
 
 See hapless freedom prostrate lie, 
 
 And trampled on by Brunswick's son. 
 
 Ye nobles great, ye barons bold, 
 
 Remember glorious Rutmymede,- 
 Your ancestors, nor bought nor sold, 
 
 Stood ready for their rights to bleed. ' 
 
 Then spurn the proffered bribe with scorn — 
 The chartered rights your sires have won 
 
 Purely transmit to those unborn — 
 Let not the sire [enslave] the son. 
 
 Your brothers free in distant climes, 
 
 With noble ardor on you call. 
 Prepared to meet tempestuous times, 
 
 And prop the fabric ere it fall. 
 
 The collection is one of the most interesting 
 memorials of our Revolutionary History, with its 
 notices of old Virginia manners, and the public 
 events of the times. Besides Col. Bland's own 
 letters, the correspondence includes letters of 
 Henry St. George Tucker, Arthur Lee, Jefferson, 
 anil others. 
 
 Col. Theodoric Bland is not to be confounded 
 with his partial contemporary, Richard Bland, 
 
 " the Virginia Antiquary," who bore a prominent 
 part as a political writer in the Revolution. He 
 published in 1767, An Inquiry into the Eights 
 of the British Colonies, after the House of Bur- 
 gesses had declared the independence of the 
 people of Virginia of the Parliament of Great 
 Britain in matters of taxation.! Wirt, in a note 
 to the Life of Patrick Henry, commemorates him 
 as " one of the most enlightened men in the 
 colony ; a man of finished education, and of the 
 most unbending habits of application. His per- 
 fect mastery of every fact connected with the 
 settlement and progress of the colony, had given 
 him the name of the Virginia Antiquary. He 
 
 * The Bland Papers, being a selection from the MSS. of Col. 
 Theodoric Bland, Jr., of Prince George County, Va., to which 
 are prefixed an Introduction and a'Memoir' of Col. Bland. 
 Edited by Charles Campbell. Petersburg: Edmund and Julian 
 C. Euffin. 18*1-3. 
 
 t Jefferson's Notes on Va., Qy. xxiii., where another revolu- 
 tionary pamphlet, The Monitor's Letters, by Arthur Lee, 1769 
 is mentioned. 
 
 was a politician of the first class, a profound 
 logician," and was also considered as the first 
 writer in the colony." He died in 1778. 
 
 NATHANIEL EVANS. 
 
 Natitaotel Evans was born in Philadelphia, 
 June S, 1742. He was educated at the Academy 
 of that city, and then apprenticed to a merchant. 
 At the expiration of his indentures he entered 
 the college, which had in the meantime been 
 established. At the Commencement in 1765 he 
 received the degree of Master of Arts, although 
 he had not taken that of Bachelor, in consequence 
 of the interruption in his studies. He immedi- 
 ately after left for England, for the purpose of 
 being ordained, and returned in December of the 
 same year, having passed a highly successful ex- 
 amination as one of the missionaries of the So- 
 ciety for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 
 and was stationed in Gloucester county, New 
 Jersey, where he remained, occupied with the 
 duties of his profession, until his death, October 
 29, 1767. 
 
 One of his fellow-passengers on his return voy- 
 age from England was Miss Elizabeth Graeme, 
 afterwards Mrs. Ferguson. The acquaintance 
 formed on shipboard ripened into a friendship 
 which was only interrupted by his death. Seve- 
 ral of his poems are addressed to her as Laura ; 
 
 the title of his Ode written at G -me Parle, 
 
 shows that he visited at her family country-seat ; 
 and the Rev. Dr. Smith acknowledges her aid in 
 the preparation of the collection of her friend's 
 poems,* which he published, with a brief memoir, 
 in 1772. This volume contains, in addition to 
 the pieces already mentioned, and a brief poeti- 
 cal correspondence between Laura and himself, a 
 few fugitive verses on contemporary topics, in- 
 cluding an Ode to the Memory of General Wolfe, 
 and a similar composition on the Peace, with an 
 Imitation of Borace addressed to Thomas God- 
 frey, and an Elegy to the memory of the same 
 friend, with paraphrases of a few of the Psalms, 
 and two or three pastorals. One of his poems is 
 addressed to Benjamin Franklin, Esq., LL.D., 
 occasioned by hearing him play on the harmonica. 
 
 His verses are smoothly written in the taste of 
 the period, but do not possess high literary merit. 
 The lines which we select are a version of a Latin 
 poem, also by the author, addressed to a friend. 
 
 AD GULEELMUM LAHDEKr/M, r.P. 
 
 Caseus ptnguis, pyra, mala, nectar 
 Te manent mecum, Gulielme, sextam 
 Occidens quum Sol properabit horam 
 Axe fugaci. 
 
 Diligit pullos nitidumque nidum 
 Uxor, at tecum gradiatur audax: 
 Filio quisquam nee erit venusto 
 
 Gratior umbra. 
 Risus et musre comitentur almoo, 
 Iunocens et te jocus et leporcs : 
 Linque sed curas, et amara vitre 
 
 Linque severffi. 
 
 * Poems on Several Occasions, with some other Composi- 
 tions. By Nathaniel Evans, A.M., late Missionary (appointed 
 by the Society for Promoting the Gospel) for Gloucester 
 county, in New Jersey, and Chaplain to the Lord Viscount 
 Kilmorey. of the Kingdom of Ireland. Philadelphia, 1772. 
 
238 
 
 CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Hano mornm nigis sapiens futuris 
 Poiiito : quamvis viridem senectani 
 Cautus arceto, reraorare vitas 
 
 Gaudia blandie. 
 
 Vive mine : setas fugit impotentis 
 Fluniinis ritu, voluerisve veuti: 
 Vis stitit nulla, et revocavit horns 
 
 Nulla volantes. 
 
 Umbra seu pulvis fumus, aut inanis 
 Fumus, et uostrum remauebit olim 
 Kil nisi virtus, nionumenta sacra 
 
 Ingeniique. 
 
 TO WILLIAM LATJDEE, P.P. 
 
 Pears, apples, cheese, dear Will, and wine, 
 If thou wilt grace mine house, are thine 
 
 (For these are in my pow'r). 
 When the last ray of yon bright sun, 
 Shall round its whirling axle run, 
 
 Ami hasten the sixth hour. 
 
 Thy wife delights in her neat home 
 And babes, but let her boldly come, 
 
 Provided she's at leisure. 
 Thy beauteous boy shall also find, 
 Although unask'd, a welcome kind, 
 
 And be receiv'd with pleasure. 
 
 And with thee haste the virgin Muse, 
 And jest that laughter shall diffuse, 
 
 And mirth that cheers the soul: 
 Banish afar corroding care, 
 Severity with gloomy air, 
 
 That might our joys control. 
 
 More wisely thou procrastinate 
 These evils to a wrinkled state, 
 
 When life's no more inviting : 
 E'er age comes on, while yet thy blood 
 Flows in a sprightly vig'rous flood, 
 
 Be cheerful and delighting. 
 
 Live! live, my Will, for now's the day ; 
 Time, like a current, glides away, 
 
 Or th' evanescent wind ; 
 TJnstaid by stout Herculean force, 
 Nought can protract its rapid course, 
 
 And fleeting moments bind. 
 
 Shadows we are, or empty dust, 
 And vapor-like dissolve we must, 
 
 Nor are we more secure ; 
 Nought can escape the dreary pit 
 But virtue and immortal wit, 
 
 Which endless shall endure. 
 
 WILLIAM HEXEY DRAYTON. 
 
 This eminent political leader was burn in South 
 .Carolina in 1742. He was educated in England, 
 at Westminster School and at the University of 
 Oxford. -He was appointed in 1771 Privy Coun- 
 cillor for the Province, and in 1774 Assistant 
 Judge ; distinguishing himself by his maintenance 
 of the rights of the colonists. On the eve of the 
 meeting of the Continental Congress he published 
 a pamphlet under the signature of " Freeman," 
 in which he marked out the line to be pursued, 
 and 1 submitted a "bill of American rights." In 
 consequence of this publication he lost his place 
 in the colonial judiciary. In 1775 he became 
 president of the Provincial Congress, and was soon 
 appointed by that body Chief Justice of the Co- 
 lony, when he delivered his celebrated political 
 charge to the Grand Jury of Charleston, April 
 
 23, 177?, on the Necessity of Independence. It is 
 one of the masterly state papers of the Pievolu- 
 tion* Its enumeration of royal grievances gave 
 something more than a hint to Jefferson for his 
 draft of the Declaration of Independence. The 
 address was an assertion of the rights of the 
 people of South Carolina in forming the admi- 
 nistration under which he acted. Its language 
 was direct, and its line of argument legal and con- 
 vincing. " I proceed to lay before you," said he, 
 " the principal causes leading to the late revolu- 
 tion of our government, the law upon the point, 
 and the benefits resulting from that happy and 
 necessary establishment. The importance of the 
 transaction deserves such a statement, the occa- 
 sion demands, and our future welfare requires it. 
 I will expound to you the constitution of your 
 country." He thus directly states the precedent 
 of the revolutionary course which had been pur- 
 sued : — 
 
 The house of Brunswick was vet scarcely settled 
 in the British throne, to which it had been called by 
 a free people, when in the year 1719, our ancestors 
 in this country, finding that the government of the 
 lords proprietors operated to their ruin, exercised 
 the rights transmitted to them by their forefathers 
 of England ; and casting off the proprietary author- 
 ity, culled upon the house of Brunswick to rule over 
 them — a house elevated to ro}-al dominion, for no 
 other purpose than to preserve to a people their 
 unalienable rights. The King accepted the invita- 
 tion ; and thereby indisputably admitted the legality 
 of that revolution. And, in so doing, by his own 
 act, he vested in them our forefathers, and in us their 
 posterity, a clear right to effect another revolution, 
 if ever the government of the house of Brunswick 
 should operate to the ruin of the people. " So the 
 excellent Roman Emperor Trajan delivered a sword 
 to Saburanus, his captain of the Pretorian guard, 
 with this admired sentence, " Receive this sword, 
 and use it to defend me if I govern well, but against 
 me if I behave ill." 
 
 He then proceeds to draw out the legal argu- 
 ment of the Revolution of 1C88, and closes with a 
 review of the conditions of accommodation with 
 England, which he summed up in this vigorous 
 phrase : — 
 
 In short, I think it my duty to declare in the 
 awful seat of justice, and before Almighty God, that, 
 in my opinion, the Americans can have no safety but 
 by the Divine favor, their own virtue, and their 
 being so prudent as not to leave it in the 'power of 
 their British rulers to injure them. Indeed the ruin- 
 ous and deadly injuries received on our side, and 
 the jealousies entertained, and which, in the nature 
 of things, must daily increase against us on the 
 other; demonstrate to a mind, in the least given to 
 reflection upon the rise and fall of empires, that true 1 
 reconcilement never can exist between Great Britain 
 and America, the latter being in subjection to the 
 former. The Almighty created America to be inde- 
 pendent of Britain. Let us beware of the impiety 
 of being bark ward to act as instruments in the Al- 
 mighty hand, now extended to accomplish his pur- 
 pose ; and by the completion of which alone, Ame- 
 rica, in the nature of human affairs, can be secure 
 against the craft and insidious designs of her ene- 
 mies who think her prosperity and power already 
 
 * It is mentioned by Paine in the third number of the Crisis, 
 as " of the first rank iu America." 
 
THOMAS JEFFERSON'. 
 
 239 
 
 by far too great. In a word our piety and political 
 safety are so blended, that, to refuse our labors in 
 this divine work is to refuse to be a great, a free, a 
 pious, and a happy people. 
 
 And now, having left the important alternative, 
 political happiness or wretchedness, under God, in a 
 great degree in your own hands; 1 pray the Su- 
 preme Arbiter of the affairs of men, so to direct your 
 judgment, as that you mny act agreeably to what 
 seems to be his will, revealed in his miraculous 
 works in behalf of America, bleeding at the altar of 
 liberty. 
 
 Drayton also published a pamphlet in opposi- 
 tion to Lord Howe's plan of reconciliation with 
 the mother country. In 1777 he was made Pre- 
 sident of South Carolina, and the next year took 
 his seat in the Continental Congress at Philadel- 
 phia ; and while connected with this body, died 
 suddenly in that city at the early age of thirty- 
 six* In addition to his political pamphlets he 
 prepared a large body of materials for a history 
 of the American Revolution, which were put into 
 shape by his son John Drayton and published in 
 two volumes in 1821-t John Drayton had previ- 
 ously published, in 1802, an Historical View of 
 South Carolina. He died in Charleston in 1822 
 at the age of sixty, holding the office of District 
 Judge of the United States. 
 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON, 
 
 The author of the Declaration of Independence, 
 was bora on his father's estate at Shadwell, 
 Albemarle county, Virginia, in the neighborhood 
 of Mouticello, April 2, 1743. On the father's 
 side his ancestry was Welsh, "from near the 
 mountain of Snowdon," he notices in his Auto- 
 biography, and adils, " the highest in Great Bri- 
 tain." His grandfather, who was settled in Vir- 
 ginia, left three sons, of whom the youngest, 
 Peter, married Jane Randolph of Goochland in 
 the state, and of Scottish descent. Of eight chil- 
 dren by this marriage Thomas was the first born. 
 The father was a man of "a strong mind and 
 sound judgment, and eager after information," as 
 his son afterwards described him, whose neglected 
 education in youth did not prevent his accom- 
 plishing himself sufficiently to be employed on a 
 boundary survey between Virginia and North 
 Carolina, and making the first actual map of the 
 state on record. He died when his son was in 
 his fifteenth year, having placed him on the track 
 of a liberal education — under the instruction of 
 Mr. Douglass, a clergyman from Scotland, who 
 taught him French with the elements of Greek 
 and Latin. On the death of his father, he was 
 educated by the Reverend Mr. Maury, "a correct 
 classical scholar," for two years, when in 1760 he 
 entered William and Mary College, where he also 
 remained two years. At the college his intellec- 
 tual habits were greatly formed by the lectures 
 and personal friendship of Dr. William Small, the 
 Professor of Philosophy, from Scotland, a man of 
 an active and liberal mind, who had a happy art 
 of communicating his information on science, 
 ethics, and the belles-lettres. u This acquaintance- 
 ship," says Jefferson, looking back to these early 
 years, when he commenced his Autobiography at 
 
 * Eamsav's Ilist. Eev. S. C. i. 94. Hist. S. C. ii. 4iL 
 t Memoirs of tbc American Revolution. 
 
 the age of seventy-seven, "was my great good 
 fortune, and probably fixed the destinies of my life." 
 The Professor introduced him to George Wythe, 
 the able lawyer and patriot, with whom he studied 
 law. The Autobiography recalls the partie car- 
 rce which these three friends formed, in company 
 with Governor Fauquier at his table, where con- 
 versation never lacked intelligence. Small re- 
 turned to Scotland in 1762. 
 
 Jefferson has left the warmest acknowledg- 
 ments in his Correspondence and Autobiography, 
 of his obligations to Wythe, who led him into 
 business at the bar, and lived for forty years his 
 friend.* 
 
 At the age of twenty-six, he entered public life 
 as member of the legislature from his native 
 county. In 1772 he married a widow Jady of the 
 age of twenty-three, the daughter of John Wayles, 
 a lawyer of position and attractive personal quali- 
 ties, a share of whose property on his death in 
 1773, doubled the fortunes of the pair. Jefferson 
 had inherited from his father the land on which 
 
 * In bis notes for a biography of Wythe, prepared in 1S20, 
 Jefferson thus draws his character. u j^o man ever left 
 behind him a character more venerated than George 
 Wytiie. His virtue was of the purest tint; bis integrity in- 
 flexible and his justice exact; of warm patriotism, and devot- 
 ed as lie was to liberty, and the natural and equal rights of 
 man, he might truly be called the Cato of his country, without 
 the avarice of the Roman; for a more disinterested person 
 never lived. Temperance and regularity in all his habits gave 
 him general good health, and his unaffected modesty and 
 suavity of mauners endeared him to every one. He was of 
 easy elocution, his language chaste, methodical in the arrange- 
 ment of his matter, learned and logical in the use of it. and of 
 great urbanity in debate; not quick of apprehension, but with 
 a little time, profound in peuetration and sound conclusion. 
 In his philosophy lie was firm, and neither troubling, nor per- 
 haps trusting, any one with his religious creed, he left the 
 world to the conclusion, that that religion must be good which 
 could produce a life of exemplary virtue. His stature was of 
 the middle size, well formed and proportioned, and the fea- 
 tures of hi* face vrere manly, comely, and engaging. Such was 
 George Wythe, the lienor of bis own, and the model of future 
 times.'' 
 
240 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 lie was born, and the adjacent- grounds of Mon- 
 tioello. 
 
 His early opposition to the British colonial 
 policy is well known. The details belong to 
 political rather than literary history. Uis views 
 on the position of the country were expressed in 
 a draft of instructions which he prepared for 
 delegates to a general Congress, to be sent from 
 the convention at Williamsburg, in 1774. The 
 paper was read by the members, and not brought 
 up to be adopted, but it was published in a pam- 
 phlet form with the title A Summary View of the 
 Eigh ts of British America. Edmund Burke, when 
 it reached London, interpolated some passages 
 in it, in which form it passed through several 
 editions* In 1775, Jefferson succeeded Peyton 
 Randolph in his seat in Congress at Philadelphia. 
 He was thirty-two years of age, and the youngest 
 man but one in that body. He was immediately 
 engaged in its affairs, his legal and literary abili- 
 ties t being called for to assist the committee to 
 prepare a declaration of the causes of taking up 
 arms. The draft which Jefferson prepared was 
 too ardent for his colleague, Dickinson, and the 
 latter substituted a statement in milder form. 
 When the consideration of the question of Inde- 
 pendence arose, Jefferson was appointed chairman 
 of the Committee of Adams, Franklin, Sherman, 
 and Livingston, to prepare a Declaration. " The 
 committee," he says, in his Autobiography, '•' de- 
 sired me to do it : it was accordingly done." A 
 few verbal corrections appear in the fac-siinile of 
 the original draft in the hand-writing of Frank- 
 lin and Adams. The paper was reported on 
 Friday, 2Sth June, 1776, laid on the table, and on 
 Monday referred to a committee of the whole, 
 discussed for the three following days, abridged 
 of several superfluous phrases and some passages 
 bearing severely upon Great Britain and affecting 
 the question of slavery. On the evening of the 
 memorable Fourth it was adopted in its present 
 form. 
 
 A discussion has arisen with respect to the 
 authorship of several striking phrases of this 
 document, alleged to have been anticipated by 
 the Mecklenburg North Carolina Resolutions of 
 May 20, 1775. In the last mentioned paper the 
 following language occurs: "That we, the citizens 
 of Mecklenburg county, do hereby disaol/oethe po- 
 litical hands which have connected us with the 
 mother c< nintry, and hereby absolve ourselves from 
 all allegiance to the British crown, and abjure all 
 political connexion, contract, or association with 
 that nation. * * * That we do hereby declare 
 ourselves a free and independent people; are, and 
 of right ought to be, a sovereign and self-govern- 
 ing association, under the control of no person, 
 other than that of our God, and the general 
 government of Congress ; to the maintenance of 
 which independence, we solemnly pledge to each 
 other, our mutual co-operation, our Ures, our for- 
 tunes, and our most sacred honor." The lines 
 which we have marked in italics suggest plagia- 
 rism from one quarter or the other. The com- 
 
 * Autobiography, Works, i. 7. Ed. If30. 
 
 t "Mr. Jefferson came into' Congress in June, 1775, nod 
 brought with him a reputation for literature, science, and a 
 happy talent of composition. Writings of his were handed 
 about, remarkable for the peculiar felicity of expression. 1 ' — 
 John Adams's Letter to Timothy Pickering, Aug. 6, 1&22. 
 
 parison between the two was brought up in a 
 letter from John Adams to Mr. Jefferson, dated 
 June, 1819. Jefferson in reply, at the age of 
 seventy-six, when he may have forgotten the con- 
 temporary report of the affair, doubted the authen- 
 ticity of the paper. The fact of the declaration 
 at Mecklenburg and the words of the Resolutions 
 were maintained afterwards by a report of the 
 legislature of North Carolina, which investigated 
 the evidence. Professor Tucker, in his Life of 
 Jefferson, published in 1837, admits the agree- 
 ment and the plagiarism lying between the two, 
 and does not question the fact that a declaration 
 was made at Mecklenburg, but argues that the 
 Jeffersonian phrases were - interpolated subse- 
 quently from the Declaration of Congress* 
 
 But whatever coincidences of expression may 
 be noticed by the curious students of such mat- 
 ters, in the language of Webster on the solemn 
 occasion of the funeral eulogy of Adams and 
 Jefferson, "as a composition, the Declaration is 
 Mr. Jefferson's. It is the production of his mind, 
 and the high honor of it belongs to him, clearly 
 and absolutely. To say that he performed his 
 work well would be doing him injustice. To say 
 that he did excellently well, admirably well, 
 would be inadequate and halting praise. Let us 
 rather say, that lie so discharged the duty assigned 
 him, that all Americans may well rejoice that the 
 work of drawing the title-deed of their liberties 
 devolved upon him.''t 
 
 Leaving Congress in September after the De- 
 claration, Jefferson's faculties were employed in 
 legal reforms in the legislative of his state, of 
 which he became Governor in 1779, retain- 
 ing the office till 1781, when he resigned it, 
 thinking a man of military education was required 
 for the conduct of affairs. He was offered several 
 foreign appointments, to negotiate treaties in 
 Europe, and finally embarked from Boston in 
 
 1784, to join Franklin and Adams in Paris for 
 this purpose. When Adams was appointed mi- 
 nister to London, and Franklin returned home in 
 
 1785, Jefferson was left minister in Paris. He 
 remained in that situation, travelling in France 
 and visiting Holland and Piedmont till 1789, 
 when he returned to America. On his arrival in 
 Virginia he was met by the appointment from 
 Washington of Secretary of State, which office he 
 entered upon in New York, retaining it tdl the 
 clo=e of 1793. He then passed three years in 
 retirement, 'from which the Vice-Presidency 
 withdrew him, succeeded at the end of the term 
 in 1801 by his election to the Presidency. After 
 eight years, he retired to Monticello for the re- 
 mainder of his career, and lived the life of a plan- 
 ter and student, nis interest in education led 
 him to be appointed chairman of the commission 
 which formed the University at Charlottesville, 
 in his vicinity, of which he became the rector. 
 
 In 1815, his pecuniary circumstances having 
 become straitened, he sold his library of about 
 seven thousand volumes to Congress, for which 
 he received twenty-three thousand dollars. It 
 was arranged by him on the Baconian plan of 
 
 * Art. on Tucker's Life of Jefferson, New York Review, No. 
 I. March, 1837. The Mecklenburg Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence, a lecture by the Ucv. Francis L. Ilawks before the 
 N. Y. Historical Society, Dec. 10, 1S52. 
 
 + Works, i. 126. 
 
THOMAS JEFFERSON. 
 
 241 
 
 a division under Memory, Reason or Judgment, 
 and the Imagination. The departments showed, 
 a liberal range of study on science and literature, 
 including an allowance of the Fine Arts. In the 
 fire in the Library Room in 1852, most of these 
 books were destroyed. 
 
 Jefferson's last days were passed in the rural 
 enjoyments of Monticello, and with unimpaired 
 mental pleasures. He died on the fourth of July, 
 1826, on the completion of fifty years from the 
 date of his signing the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 Jefferson's popular literary reputation 'will 
 mainly rest on the stirring sentences of this De- 
 claration. There is abundant material in the 
 nine octavo volumes of his writings,* but little of 
 it is coined for current circulation. The auto- 
 biography, written in extreme age, has nothing 
 of the repose and relish of Franklin's ; the reports, 
 messages, and other ■ political writings may be 
 sometimes referred to, but will seldom be perused; 
 while the Correspondence, when perfectly ar- 
 ranged and annotated, will remain the best and 
 most agreeable picture of the man. 
 
 The Notes on the State of Virginia were writ- 
 ten at the suggestion of M. Marbois of the French 
 legation in Philadelphia, who in 1781, in accord- 
 ance with the wishes of his government for infor- 
 mation, proposed to Jefferson a set of queries. 
 As the latter had always been in the habit of 
 jotting down memoranda of statistical and useful 
 matters relating to the country, lie took this 
 opportunity of arranging them in order. Copies 
 were in request among the author's friends, and 
 for their satisfaction the work was privately 
 printed, an edition of two hundred copies in 
 Paris, in 178 1, and distributed abroad and in 
 America. One of the European copies, on the 
 death of its owner, was obtained by a bookseller, 
 who had it bunglingly translated by the Abbe 
 Morellet into French, the author hearing of it in 
 time to make some corrections and changes, when 
 it appeared — Observations sur la Virginie, par 
 M. ,/***, tradiutes de V Anglois, 8vo. Paris, 
 1786. The next year, Jefferson gave the original 
 to an English publisher.! 
 
 The correspondence of Jefferson, as published 
 by his grandson,} contains the finest specimens of 
 his literary powers. Many of the letters are 
 written with a care that smells of the lamp. 
 There is scarcely one of them which does not con- 
 tain something suggestive or useful. During his 
 residence in France he was very industrious as a 
 correspondent, and his letters on the political 
 affairs of the country, during the early period of 
 the Revolution, addressed to Washington, Jay, 
 and others, are valuable for their observation 
 anil sagacity. Madison is his chosen correspon- 
 dent on American political ideas. He addresses 
 John Adams on *tate affairs in France, and when 
 they both become veterans, in retirement from 
 public life, Braintree and Monticello exchange 
 notes on topics of ethics and religion. He inte- 
 
 * This is the new edition edited by IT. A. Washington, pre- 
 pared from the IIS. bequeathed to Thomas Jefferson Ran- 
 dolph, his grandson, and purchased by Congress in 1S4S. 
 
 i Autobiographical Memoir, p. 50. 
 
 t Memoir, Correspondence, and Miscellanies, from the pa- 
 pers of Thomas* Jefferson. Edited by Thomas Jefferson Ran- 
 dolph. 4 vols. 8vo. 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
 rests himself while in Europe, in all the liberal 
 pursuits of his friends. He writes to Ritten- 
 house on points raised in the Notes on, Virginia; 
 to Francis Hopkinson concerning his musical im- 
 provements and inventions, and asks (in 1786) 
 "what is become of the lunarium for the king?" 
 He is solicitous for Houdon the sculptor, Tom 
 Paine's iron bridge and its mathematical princi- 
 ples, the ethnological promises of Ledyards tra- 
 vels, his friend Button's museum, that it be fur- 
 nished with American specimens, and cheerfully 
 fills the duties of a Paris commissioner in supply- 
 ing the libraries of' his friends at home with 
 foreign books. His letters to his nephew Peter 
 Carr show the warmth of his family attachments, 
 and his zealous study of the nature of a practical 
 education for mind and body ; and the politician 
 and philosopher can gaily unbend from graver 
 studies to compliment his lady correspondents 
 with his refinements of expression. To Mrs. 
 Cosway he addresses the fine dialogue between 
 Head and Heart on American nature, and dis- 
 courses very prettily to Mrs. Bingham on the 
 fopperies of Parisian life. 
 
 In 1787, on the 28th February, suffering from 
 a dislocated wrist, Jefferson set out, by advice of 
 his physician, on a tour to the mineral waters of 
 Aix. By the time he returned to Paris, in June, 
 he had passed through the heart of the country, 
 and traversed the boundaries of France on the south 
 and west, advancing in Italy along the Mediter- 
 ranean as far as Genoa. He was greatly impressed 
 with the architecture of that noble relic of anti- 
 quity, the Maisan Qaarr.'e, at Nismes. He writes to 
 Madame la Comtesse de Tesse, on the beauties of 
 a statue ; to La Fayette, calling upon him to make ' 
 the same journey, — " and to do it most effectually, 
 you must be absolutely incognito, you must ferret 
 the people out of their hovels as I have done, 
 look into their kettles, eat their bread, loll on 
 their beds, under pretence of resting yourself, but 
 in fact to find if they are soft. You will feel a 
 sublime pleasure in the course of this investiga- 
 tion, and a sublimer one hereafter, when you 
 shall be able to apply your knowledge to the 
 softening of their beds, or the throwing a morsel 
 of meat into their kettle of vegetables." His . 
 memoranda apply to the wines of Burgundy, the 
 agriculture and labor of the Rhone districts, the 
 mode of living of the peasantry, the agricultural 
 improvements ; — the itinerary of an useful, intelli- 
 gent, and active-minded tourist. Approaching the 
 close of life, in 1816, he writes to John Adams, — 
 " You ask, if I would agree to live my seventy, or 
 rather seventy-three years over again ? To which I 
 say, yea. I think with you, that it is a good world 
 on the whole ; that it has been framed on a prin- 
 ciple of benevolence, and more pleasure than pain 
 dealt out to us. * * My temperament is sanguine. 
 I steer my bark with Hope in the head, leaving 
 Fear astern. My hopes, indeed, sometimes fail ; 
 but not o'ftener than the forebodings of the 
 gloomy." 
 
 Tins was the cheerful close of a life of activity. 
 His intellectual habits were those which wear 
 well ; keen, subtle, sagacious in thinking and 
 acting as a politician, he was neat in composition, 
 skilful in statement, curious and philosophical in 
 speculation. Quick, active, versatile, he exer- 
 cised the ingenuity of a man of talent, rather than 
 
242 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 the unconscious instinct of a man of genius. His 
 mind was clear on objects which admitted of 
 being presented in a transparent light and pro- 
 found on material issues. Politics he made an 
 art, and was sensitive to every fibre of the. web 
 of political intrigue. He was not an orator or a 
 great debater, but a good talker, an artful writer, 
 master of that cunning instrument the pen — and 
 an adept in personal management. In politics 
 and philosophy what force he employed was 
 rectilinear and progressive. His writings hick 
 weight for the man of deep thought or feeling. 
 They are agreeable studies for the philosophical 
 amateur, and profitable ones for the politician 
 wiio follows out in action his far-sighted specu- 
 lations, 
 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN I1EAD AND HEART. 
 
 In a Letter to Mrs. Cosway, Paris, Oct. 12, 17S6. 
 
 My Sear Madam, — Having performed the last sad 
 office of banding you into your carriage, at the^a- 
 villon de St. Denis, and seen the wheels get actually 
 into motion, I turned on my heel and walked, more 
 dead than alive, to the opposite door, where my 
 own was awaiting me. Mr. Danquerville was miss- 
 ing. He was sought for, found, and dragged down 
 stairs. We were crammed into the carriage, like 
 recruits for the Bastille, and not having soul enough 
 to give orders to the coachman, he presumed Paris 
 our destination, and drove off. After a considerable 
 interval, silence was broke, with a " Je auis vraiment 
 afilige du depart de ces bons gens." This was a sig- 
 nal for mutual confession of distress. We began im- 
 mediately to talk of Mr. and Mrs. Coswaj^, of their 
 goodness, their talents, their amiability ; and though 
 we spoke of nothing else, we seemed hardty to have 
 entered into the matter, when the coachman an- 
 nounced the rue St. Denis, and that we were oppo- 
 site Mr. Danquerville's. He insisted on descending 
 there, and traversing a short passage to his lodgings. 
 I was carried home. Seated by my fireside, solitary 
 and sad, the following dialogue took place between 
 my Head and my Heart. 
 
 Head. Well, friend, you seem, to be in a pretty 
 trim. 
 
 Heart. I am indeed the most wretched of all 
 earthly beings. Overwhelmed with grief, every 
 fibre of my frame distended beyond its natural 
 powers to bear, I would willingly meet whatever 
 catastrophe should leave me no more to feel, or to 
 fear. 
 
 Head. These are the eternal consequences of your 
 warmth and precipitation. This is one of the scrapes 
 into which you are ever leading us. You confess 
 your follies, indeed; but still you hug and cherish 
 them; and no reformation can be hoped where there 
 is no repentance. 
 
 Heart. Oh, my friend! this is r.o moment to up- 
 braid my foibles. 1 am rent into fragments by the 
 force of my grief! If you have any balm, pour it 
 into my wounds; if none, do not harrow them by 
 new torments. Spare me in this awful moment! 
 At any other, I will attend with patience to your 
 admonitions. 
 
 Head. On the contrary, I never found that the 
 moment of triumph, with 3-ou, was the moment of 
 attention to my admonitions. While suffering un- 
 der your follies, you may perhaps be made sensible 
 of them ; but, the paroxysm over, you fancy it can 
 never return. Harsh, therefore, as the medicine 
 may be, it is my office to administer it. You will 
 be pleased to remember, that when our friend Trum- 
 bull used to be telling us of the merits and talents 
 
 of these good people, I never ceased whisperii-g to 
 you that we had no occasion for new acquaintances ; 
 that the greater their merit and talents, the more 
 dangerous their friendship to our tranquillity, be- 
 cause the regret at parting would be greater. 
 
 Heart. Accordingly, Sir, this acquaintance was 
 not the consequence of my doings. It was one of 
 your projects which threw us in the way of it. It 
 was you, remember, and not I, who desired the 
 meeting at Legrand and Motinos. I never trouble 
 myself with domes nor arches. The Halle au ules 
 might have rotted down, before I should have gone 
 to see it. But you, forsooth, who are eternally get- 
 ting us to sleep with your diagrams and crotchets, 
 must go and examine this wonderful piece of archi- ■ 
 tecture ; and when you had seen it, oh ! it was the 
 most superb thing on earth ! What you had seen 
 there was worth all you had yet seen in Paris! I 
 thought so too. But I meant it of the lady and 
 gentleman to whom we had been presented; and 
 not of a parcel of sticks and chips put together in 
 pens. . You then, Sir, and not I, have been the cause 
 of the present distress. 
 
 Head. It would have been happy for you, if my dia- 
 grams and crotchets had gotten you to sleep on that 
 ■day, as you are pleased to say they eternally do. My 
 visit to Legrand and Motinos had public utility for 
 its object. A market is to be built in Richmond. 
 What a commodious plan is that of Legrand and 
 Motinos ; especially, if we rait on it the noble dome 
 of the Halle au blcs. If such a bridge as they 
 showed us can be thrown across the Schuylkill, at 
 Philadelphia, the floating bridges taken up, and the 
 navigation of that river opened, what a copious re- 
 source will be added, of wood and provisions, to 
 warm and feed the poor of that city? While I was 
 occupied with these objects, 3*ou were dilatii g with 
 your new acquaintances, and contriving how to pre- 
 vent a separation from them. Every soul of you 
 had an engagement for the day. Yet all these were 
 to be sacrificed that you might dine together. Ly- 
 ing messengers were to be despatched into every 
 quarter of the city, with apologies for your breach 
 of engagement. You, particularly, had the effron- 
 tery to send word to the Duchess Danville, that on 
 the moment we were setting out to dine with her, 
 despatches came to hand which required immediate 
 attention. You wanted me to invent a more ii;ge-" 
 nious excuse ; but I knew you were getting into a 
 scrape, and I would have nothing to do with it. 
 Well; after dinner from St. Cloud, from St. Cloud 
 to Ruggieri's, from Ruggieri's to Krumfoltz; and if 
 the day had been as long as a Lapland summer day, 
 you would still have contrived means among you to 
 have filled it. 
 
 Heart. Oh! my dear friend, how you have revived 
 me, by recalling to mind the transactions of that 
 day! How well I remember them all, and that 
 when I came home at night, and looked back to the 
 morning, it seemed to have been a month agone. 
 Go on, then, like a kind comforter, and paint tome the 
 day we went to St. Germains. How beautiful was 
 every object! the Port de Hcuilly, the hills along 
 the Seine, the rainbows of the machine of Marly, the ■ 
 terras of St. Germains, the chateaux, the gardens, 
 the statues of Marly, the pavilion of Lucienne. Re- 
 collect, too, Madrid, Bagatelle, the King's garden, 
 the Desert. How grand the idea excited by the re- 
 mains of such a column. The spiral staircase, too, 
 was beautiful. Every moment was filled with some- 
 thing agreeable. The wheels of time moved on with 
 a rapidity of which those of our carriage gave but a 
 faint idea And yet, in the evening, when one took 
 a retrospect of the day, what a mass of happiness 
 had we travelled over ! Retrace all those scenes to 
 
THOMAS JEFFERSON. 
 
 243 
 
 rne, my good companion, and I will forgive the un- 
 kindness with which you were chiding me. The 
 day we went to St. Germains was a little too warm, 
 I tliink ;. was it not? 
 
 Head. Tliou art the most incorrigible of all the 
 beings that ever sinned! I reminded you of the 
 follies of the first day, intending to deduce from 
 thence some useful lessons for you ; but instead of 
 listening to them, you kindle at the recollection, you 
 retrace the whole series with a fondness, which 
 shows you want nothing but the opportunity to act 
 it over again. I often told you, during its course, 
 that you were imprudently engaging your affec- 
 tions, under circumstances that must cost you a 
 great deal of pain; that the persons, indeed, were 
 of the greatest merit, possessing good sense, good 
 humor, honest hearts, honest manners, and eminence 
 in a lovely art; that the lady had, moreover, qualities 
 and accomplishments belonging to her sex, which 
 might form a chapter apart for her ; such as music, 
 modesty, beauty, and that softness of disposition 
 which is the ornament of her sex, and charm of ours : 
 but that all these considerations would increase the 
 pang of separation ; that their stay here was to be 
 short; that you rack our whole system when you 
 are parted from those you love, complaining that 
 such a separation is worse than death, inasmuch as 
 this ends our sufferings, whereas that only begins 
 them; and that the separation would, in this in- 
 stance, be the more severe, as you would probably 
 never see them again. 
 
 Heart. But they told me thejf would come back 
 again the next year. 
 
 Head. But, in the mean time, see what you suffer: 
 and their return, too, depends on so many circum- 
 stances, that if you had a grain of prudence, you 
 would not count upon it. Upon the whole, it is im- 
 probable, and therefore you should abandon the idea 
 of ever seeing them again. 
 
 Heart. May Heaven abandon me, if I do! 
 
 Head. Very well. Suppose, then, tliey come back. 
 They are to stay two months, and when these are 
 expired what is to follow? Perhaps you flatter 
 yourself they may come to America ? 
 
 Heart. God only knows what is to happen. I see 
 nothing impossible in that supposition ; and I see 
 things wonderfully contrived sometimes to make us 
 happy. Where could they find such objects as in 
 America for the exercise of their enchanting art; 
 especially the lady who paints landscapes so inimi- 
 tably? She wants only subjects worthy of immor- 
 tality to render her pencil immortal. The Falling 
 Spring, the Cascade of Niagara, the Passage of the 
 Potomac through the Blue Mountains, the Natural 
 Bridge ; it is worth a voyage across the Atlantic to 
 Bee these objects; much more to paint and make 
 them, and thereby ourselves, known to all ages. 
 And our own dear Monticello ; where has nature I 
 spread so rich a mantle under the eye? — mountains, i 
 forests, rocks, rivers. With what majesty do we i 
 there ride above the storms! How sublime to look j 
 down into the workhouse of nature, to see her clouds, ! 
 hail, snow, rain, thunder, all fabricate'! at our feet ! 
 and the glorious sun when rising as if out of a dis- 
 tant water, just gilding the tops of the mountains, 
 and giving life to all nature! I hope in God, no 
 circumstance may ever make either seek an asylum 
 from grief! With what sincere sympathy I would 
 open every cell of my composition to receive the 
 effusion of their woes! I would pour my tears into 
 their wounds ; and if a drop of balm could be found 
 on the top of the Cordilleras, or at the remotest 
 sources of the Missouri, I would go thither myself 
 to seek and to bring it. Deeply practised in the 
 school of affliction, the human heart knows no joy 
 
 which I have not lost, no sorrow of which I had not 
 drank! Fortune can present no grief of unknown 
 form to me ! Who, then, can so softly bind up the 
 wound of another, as he who has felt the same 
 wound himself? But Heaven forbid they should 
 ever know a sorrow ! Let us turu over another leaf, 
 for this has distracted me. 
 
 Head. Well. Let us put this possibility to trial, 
 then, on another point. When you consider the 
 character which is given of our country by the lying 
 newspapers of London, and their credulous copyers 
 in other countries; when you reflect that all Europe 
 is made to believe we are a lawless banditti, in a 
 state of absolute anarchy, cutting one another's 
 throats, and plundering without distinction, how 
 could you expect that any reasonable creature would 
 venture among us? 
 
 Heart. But you and I know that all this is false : 
 that there is not a country on earth where there is 
 greater tranquillity ; where the laws are milder, or 
 better- obeyed ; where every one is more attentive 
 to his own business, or meddles less with that of 
 others ; where strangers are better received, more 
 hospitably treated, and with a more sacred respect. 
 
 Head. True, you and I know this, but your friends 
 do not know it. 
 
 Heart. But they are sensible people, who think 
 for themselves. They will ask of impartial foreign- 
 ers, who have been among us, whether they saw or 
 heard on the Bpot any instance of anarchy. They 
 will judge, too, that a people occupied, as we are, in 
 opening rivers, digging navigable canals, making 
 roads, building public schools, establishing acade- 
 mies, erecting busts and statues to our great men, 
 protecting religious freedom, abolishing sanguinary 
 punishments, reforming and improving our laws in 
 general; they will judge, I say, for themselves, 
 whether these are not the occupations of a people 
 at their ease ; whether this is not better evidence 
 of our true state than a London newspaper, hired to 
 lie, and from which no truth can ever be extracted, 
 but by reversing every thing it says. 
 
 Head. I did not begin this lecture, my friend, with 
 a view to learn from you what America is doing. 
 Let us return, then, to our point. I wish to make 
 you sensible how imprudent it is to place your 
 affections without reserve on objects you must so 
 soon lose, and whose loss, when it comes, must cost 
 you such severe pangs. Remember the last night. 
 You knew your friends were to leave Paris to-day. 
 This was enough to throw you into agonies. All 
 night you tossed us from one side of the bed to the 
 other ; no sleep, no rest. The poor crippled wrist, 
 too, never left one moment in the same position ; 
 now up, now down, now here, now there ; was it to 
 be wondered at if its pains returned ? The surgeon 
 then was to be called, and to be rated as an igno- 
 ramus, beeause he could not divine the cause of this 
 extraordinary change. In fine, my friend, you must 
 mend your manners. This is not a world to live at 
 random in, as you do. To avoid those eternal dis- 
 tresses, to which you are for ever exposing us, you 
 must learn to look forward before you take a step 
 which may interest our peace. Every thing in this 
 world is matter of calculation. Advance, then, with 
 caution, the balance in your hand. Put into one 
 scale the pleasures which any object may offer; but 
 put fairly into the other the pains which are to fol- 
 low, and see which preponderates. The making an 
 acquaintance is not a matter of indifference. When 
 a new one is proposed to you view it all round. 
 Consider what advantages it presents, and to what 
 inconveniences it may expose you. Do not bite at 
 the bait of pleasure till you know there is no hook 
 beneath it The art of life is the art of avoiding 
 
241 
 
 CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 pain ; and lie is the best pilot who steers clearest of 
 the rocks and slioals with which it is beset. Plea- 
 sure is always before us ; but misfortune is at our 
 side; while running after that, this arrests us. The 
 most effectual means of being secure against pain is 
 to retire within ourselves, and to suffice for our own 
 happiness. Those which depend on ourselves are 
 the only pleasures a wise man, will count on ; 
 for nothing is ours which another may deprive us 
 of. Hence the inestimable value of intellectual 
 pleasures. Ever in our power, always leading us to 
 something new, never cloying, we ride serene and 
 sublime above the concerns of this mortal world, 
 contemplating truth and nature, matter and motion, 
 the laws which bind up their existence, and that 
 Eternal Being who made and bound them up by 
 those laws. Let this be our employ. Leave the 
 bustle -and tumult of society to those who have not 
 talents to occupy themselves without them. Friend- 
 ship is but another name for an alliance with the 
 follies and the misfortunes of others. Our own share 
 of miseries is sufficient ; why enter then as volunteers 
 into those of another? Is there so little gall poured 
 into our cup that we must need help to drink that 
 of our neighbor? A friend dies, or leaves us: we 
 feel as if a limb was cut off. He is sick: we must 
 watch over him, and participate of his pains. His 
 fortune is shipwrecked : ours must be laid under 
 contribution. He loses a child, a parent, or a part- 
 ner: we must mourn the loss as if it were our own. 
 Heart. And what more sublime delight than to 
 mingle tears with one whom the hand of Heaven 
 hath smitten ! to watch over the bed of sickness, 
 and to beguile its tedious and its painful moments! 
 to share our bread with one to whom misfortune has 
 left none ! This world abounds indeed with misery : 
 to lighten its burthen we must divide it with one 
 another. But let us now try the virtue of your 
 mathematical balance, and as you have put into one 
 scale the burthens of friendship, let me put its com- 
 forts into the other. "When languishing, then, under 
 disease, how grateful is the solace of our friends! 
 how are we penetrated with their assiduities and 
 attentions ! how much are we supported by their 
 encouragements and kind offices! "When Heaven 
 has taken from us some object of our love, how 
 sweet is it to have a bosom whereon to recline our 
 heads, and into which we may pour the torrent of 
 our tears! Grief, with such a comfort, is almost a 
 luxury ! In a life where we are perpetually expos- 
 ed to want and accident, yours is a wonderful pro- 
 position, to insulate ourselves, to retire from all aid, 
 and to wrap ourselves in the mantle of self-suffi- 
 ciency! For assuredly nobody will care for him, I 
 who cares for nobody. But friendship is precious, 
 not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life ; 
 and thanks to a benevolent arrangement of things, 
 the greater part of life is sunshine. I will recur for 
 proof to the days we have lately passed. On these, • 
 indeed, the sun shone brightly] How gay did the 
 face of nature appear! Hills, valleys^ chateaux, 
 gardens, rivers, every object wore its liveliest hue ! 
 Whence did they borrow it? From the presence of 
 our charming companion. They were pleasing, be- 
 cause she seemed pleased. Alone, the .scene would 
 have been dull and insipid : the participation of it 
 with her gave it relish. Let the gloomy monk, se- 
 questered from the world, seek unsocial pleasures in 
 the bottom of his cell ! Let the sublimated philoso- 
 pher grasp visionary happiness while pursuing pban- 
 toms dressed in the garb of truth ! Their supreme 
 wisdom is supreme folly : and they mistake for hap- 
 piness the mere absence of pain. Had they ever , 
 felt the solid pleasure of one generous spasm'of the 
 heart, they would exchange for it all the frigid 
 
 speculations of their lives, 'which you have been 
 vaunting in such elevated terms. Believe me, then, 
 my friend, that that is a miserable arithmetic, winch 
 could estimate friendship at nothi: g, or at less than 
 nothing. Respect for you has induced me to enter into 
 this discussion, and to hear principles uttered, which 
 I detest and abjure. Respect for myself now obliges 
 me to recall you into the proper limits of your office. 
 "When nature .assigned us the same habitation, she 
 gave us over it a divided empire. To you she al- 
 lotted the field of science; to me that of morals. 
 "When the circle is to be squared, or the oibit of a 
 comet to be traced ; when the arch of greatest 
 strength, or the solid of least resistance is to be in- 
 vestigated, take up the problem ; it is yours; nature 
 has given me no cognizance of it. In like manner, 
 in denying to you the feelings of sympathy, of be- 
 nevolence, of gratitude, of justice, of love, of friend- 
 ship, she has excluded you from their control. To 
 these she has adapted the mechanism of the heart. 
 Morals were too essential to the happiness of man 
 to be risked on the uncertain combinations of the 
 head. She laid their foundation, therefore, in senti- 
 ment, not in science. That she gave to all as neces- 
 sary to all : this to a few only, as sufficing with a 
 few. I know, indeed, that you pretend authority 
 to the sovereign control of our conduct, in all rte 
 parts: and a respect for your grave saws and max- 
 ims, a desire to do what is right, has sometimes in- 
 duced me to conform to your counsels. A few facts, 
 however, which I can readily recall to your memory, 
 will suffice to prove to you that nature has not or- 
 ganized you for our moral direction. "When the 
 poor wearied soldier, whom we overtook at Chicka- 
 hominy, with his pack on his back, begged us to let 
 him get up behind our chariot, yon began to calcu- 
 late that the road was full of soldiers, and that if all 
 should be taken up, our horses would fail in their 
 journey. AVe drove on, therefore. But soon be- 
 coming sensible you had made me do wrong, that 
 though we cannot relieve all the distressed, we 
 should relieve as many as we can, I turned about to 
 take up the soldier; but he had entered a by-path, 
 and was no more to be found : and from that mo- 
 ment to this, I could never find him out to ask his 
 forgiveness. Again, when the poor woman came to 
 ask a charity in Philadelphia, you whispered, that 
 she looked like a drunkard, and that half a dollar 
 was enough to give her for the ale-house. Those 
 wdio want the dispositions to give, easily find rea- 
 sons why they ought not to give. When I sought 
 her out afterwards, and did what I should have 
 done at first, you know, that she employed the mo- 
 ney immediately towards placing her child at school. 
 If our country, when pressed with wrongs at the 
 point of the bayonet, had been governed by its 
 heads instead of its hearts, where should we have 
 been now? Hanging on a gallows as high as Ha- 
 inan's. You began to calculate, and to compare 
 wealth and numbers: we threw up a few pulsa- 
 tions of our blood; we supplied enthusiasm against 
 wealth and numbers ; we put our existence to the 
 hazard, when the hazard seemed against us, and we 
 saved our country: justifying, at the same time, the 
 ways of Providence, whose precept is to do always 
 what is right, and leave the issue to him. In short, 
 my friend, as far as my recollection serves me, I do 
 not know that I ever did a good thing on your sug- 
 gestion, or a dirty one without it. I do for ever, 
 then, disclaim your interference in my province. 
 Fill paper as you please with triangles and squares: 
 try how many ways you can hang and combine 
 them together. I shall never envy nor control your 
 sublime delights. But leave me to decide when 
 and where friendships are to be contracted. You 
 
THOMAS JEFFERSON. 
 
 215 
 
 say I contract them at random. So you said the 
 woman at Philadelphia was a drunkard. I receive 
 none into my esteem till I know they are worthy of 
 it. Wealth, title, office, are no recommendations to 
 my friendship. On the contrary, great good quali- 
 ties are requisite to make amends for their having 
 wealth, title, and office. Yoa confess, that, in the 
 present case, I could not have made a worthier 
 choice. Yon o dy object that I was so soon to lose 
 them. "We are not immortal ourselves, my friends; 
 how can we expect our enjoyments to be so ? "We 
 have no rose withont its thorn ; no pleasure without 
 alloy. It is the law of our existence ; and we must 
 acquiesce. It is the condition annexed to all our 
 ple'tsures, not by us who receive, but by him who 
 gives them. True, this condition is pressing cruelly 
 on in; at this moment I feel more fit for death 
 than life. Bit when I look buck on the pleasures 
 of which it is the consequence, I am conscious they 
 were worth the price I am paying. Notwithstand- 
 ing your, endeavors. t:io, to damp my hopes, I com- 
 fort myself with expectations of their promised re- 
 turn. Hope is sweeter than despair; and they 
 were too giol to me in to deceive me. "In the 
 sum ner," said the gentleman ; hut " In 4he spring," 
 6aid the lady; and I should love her for ever, were 
 it o ily for that! Know, then, my friend, that I have 
 taken these good people into my bosom ; that I have 
 lodged the n in the warmest cell I could find ; that 
 I love them, a id will continue to love, them through 
 life; that if fortune should dispose them on one side 
 the globe, and me on the other, my affections shall 
 pervale its whole mass to reach them. Knowing, 
 then, my determination, attempt not to disturb it. 
 If you can at a ly time furnish matter for their 
 amusement, it will be the office of a gool neighbor 
 to do it. I will, in like manner, seize any occasion 
 which may offer, to do the like good turn for you 
 with Condoroet, Rittenhouse, Madison, La Cretelle, 
 or a iy other of those worthy sons of science, whom 
 you so justly prize. 
 
 I thought this a favorable proposition whereon to 
 rest the issue of the dialogue. So I put an end to 
 it by calling for" my nightcap. Methinks, I hear 
 you wish to Heaven I had called a little sooner, and 
 so spared you the ennui of such a sermon. I did 
 not interrupt them sooner, because I was in a mood 
 for he iriug sermons. You, too, were the subject ; 
 and on such a thesis I never think the theme long ; 
 not even if I am to write it, and that slowly and 
 awkwardly, as now, with the left hand. 
 
 CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 To Dr. Walter Jonsz, Moniieello, Jan. 1S14. 
 
 I think I knew General Washington intimately 
 and thoroughly ; and were I called on to delineate 
 his character, it sho lid be'in terms like these : — 
 
 His mind was groat and powerful, without 
 being of the very first order; his penetration 
 stro ig, though not so acute as that of a Newton, 
 Bacon, or Loeke; and as far as he saw, no judg- 
 ment was ever sounder. It was slow in opera- 
 tin i, being little aided by invention or imagina- 
 tio i, but sure in conclusion. Hence the common re- 
 mirk of his officers, of the advantage he derived 
 from councils of war, where, hearing all suggestions, 
 he selected whatever was best; and certainly no 
 general ever planned his battles more judiciously. 
 But if deranged during the course of the action, if 
 any member of his plan was disloented by sudden 
 circumstances, he was slow in a re-adjustment. The 
 consequence was, that he often failed in the field, 
 and rarely against an enemy in station, as at Boston 
 and York. He was incapable of fear, meeting per- 
 
 sonal dangers with the calmest unconcern. Perhaps 
 the strongest feature in his character was prudence, 
 never acting until every circumstance, every consi- 
 deration was maturely weighed; refraining, if he 
 saw a doubt ; but, when once decided, going through 
 with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed. His 
 integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflex- 
 ible I have ever known; no motives of interest or 
 consanguinity, of friendship or hatred, being able to 
 bias his decision. He was, indeed, in every sense of 
 the words, a wise, a good, and a great man. His 
 temper was naturally irritable and high-toned ; but 
 reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and 
 habitual ascendancy over it. If ever, however, it 
 broke its bonds, he was most tremendous in his 
 wrath. In his expenses he was honorable, but exact; 
 liberal in contributions to whatever promised utility; 
 but frowning and unyielding on all visionary pro- 
 jects and all unworthy calls on his charity. His 
 heart was not warm in its affections; but he exactly 
 calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid 
 esteem proportioned to it. His person, you know, 
 was fine ; his stature exactly what one would wish ; 
 his deportment easj', erect, and noble; the best 
 horseman of his age, and the most graceful figure 
 that could be seen On horseback. Although in the 
 circle of his friends, where he might be unreserved 
 with safety, he took a free share in conversation, 
 his colloquial talents were not above mediocrity, 
 possessing neither copiousness of ideas nor fluency 
 of words. In public, when called on for a sudden 
 opinion, he was unready, short, and embarrassed. 
 Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely, in an easy 
 and correct style. This he had acquired by conver- 
 sation with the world, for his education was merely 
 reading, writing, and common arithmetic, to which 
 he added surveying, at a later day. His time was 
 employed in action chiefly, reading little, and that 
 only in agricultural and English history. His cor- 
 respondence became necessarily extensive, and, with 
 journalizing his agricultural proceedings, occupied 
 most of his leisure hours within daors. On the 
 whole, his character was in its mass, perfect; in no- 
 thing bad, in few points indifferent; and it maj' 
 truly be said, that never did nature and fortune 
 combine more perfectly to make a man great, and to 
 place him in the same constellation with whatever 
 worthies have merited from man an everlasting re- 
 membrance. For his was the singular destiny and 
 merit, of leading the armies of his country success- 
 fully through an arduous war, for the establishment 
 of its independence ; of conducting its councils 
 through the birth of a government, new in its forms 
 and principles, until it had settled down into a quiet 
 and orderly train; and of scrupulously obeying the 
 laws through the whole of his career, civil and mili- 
 tary, of which the history of the world furnishes no 
 other example. 
 
 MORALITIES. 
 
 To Tliomas Jefferson Smith, Monticello, Feb. 21, 1S25. 
 This letter will, to you, be as one from the dead. 
 The writer will be in the grave before you can 
 weigh its councils. Your affectionate and excellent 
 father has requested that I would address to you 
 something which might possibly have- a favorable 
 influence on the course of life you have to run ; and 
 I too, as a namesake, feel an interest in that course. 
 Few words will be necessary, with good dispositions 
 on your part. Adore God. Reverence and cherish 
 5'our parents. Love your neighbor as yourself, and 
 your country more than yourself. Be just. Be true. 
 Murmur not at the' ways of Providence. So shall 
 the life, into which you have entered, be the portal 
 to one of eternal and ineffable bliss. And, if to the 
 
216 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dead it is permitted to care for the things of this 
 world, every action of your life will be under my 
 regard. Farewell. 
 
 Monticello, February 21st, 1825. 
 
 The Portrait of a Good Man, by (he most sublime of Poets, 
 for your imitation. 
 
 Lord, who's the happy man that may to thy blest 
 
 courts repair ; 
 Sot, stranger-like, to visit them, but to inhabit there? 
 'T is he, whose every thought and deed by rules of 
 
 virtue moves; 
 "Whose generous tongue disdains to speak, the thing 
 
 his heart disproves. 
 Who never did a slander forge, his neighbor's fame 
 
 to wound; 
 Nor hearken to a false report, by malice whispered 
 
 round. 
 
 Who vice, in all its pomp and power, can treat with 
 
 just neglect ; 
 And piety, though eloth'd in rags, religiously respect. 
 "ft ho to his plighted vows and trust, has ever firmly 
 
 stcod; 
 And though he promise to his loss, he makes his 
 
 promise good. 
 Whose soul in usury disdains his treasure to employ ; 
 Whom no rewards can ever bribe, the guiltless to 
 
 destroy. 
 The man, who by this steady course has happiness 
 
 ensured, 
 When earth's foundations shake, shall stand, by 
 
 Providence secured. 
 
 A Decalogue of Canons for observation in practical life. 
 
 1. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do 
 
 to-day. 
 
 2. Never trouble another for what you can do 
 
 yourself. 
 
 3. Never spend your money before you have it. 
 
 4. Never buy what you do not want, because it is 
 
 cheap; it will be dear to you. 
 
 5. Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst, and 
 
 cold. 
 
 6. We never repent of having eaten too little. 
 
 7. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly. 
 
 8. How much pain have cost us the evils that have 
 
 never happened. 
 
 9. Take things always by their smooth handle. 
 10. AVhen angry, count ten before you speak; if 
 
 very angry, an hundred. 
 
 NATHANAEL EMMONS 
 Was a native of Connecticut, born in the town 
 of East Haddam, county of Hartford, May 1, 
 1745. In his Autobiography, written towards 
 the close of his life, he tells us that his parents, 
 finding him of " a volatile, trifling spirit," as a 
 schoolboy, altered their purpose of sending him 
 to college, and determined to make a farmer 
 of him; a resolution which put him upon his 
 mettle for study. He bought a Latin accidence 
 and grammar with his own money, before he 
 attended a grammar-school. In 1763, he entered 
 Yale, where he was a classmate of the poet Trum- 
 bull, and found himself, on the completion of his 
 course, - by the loss of his parents, without money 
 ■or a home. School-keeping was the obvious and 
 uniform resource in such cases, and Emmons 
 taught school for some months, till he entered the 
 family of the Eev. Nathan Strong, of Coventry, 
 Conn., teaching his children, and himself acquiring 
 
 theology. He also placed himself under the in- 
 struction of the Rev. Dr. Smalley.* 
 
 In 1769, he was licensed by the South Associa- 
 tion in Hartford county. In 1773, he was or- 
 dained to the pastoral care of the Second church, 
 in Wrentham, Mass., the name of the district from 
 which the town of Franklin was subsequently 
 organized in 1778, receiving its name in honor of 
 the philosopher. 
 
 After having sustained a pastoral relation with 
 
 his congregation of more than fifty years, he 
 
 retired from his ministry at the first decided 
 
 , warning of the loss of his powers, in Ma}', 1827. 
 
 J He still, however, though fully relinquishing 
 
 i his office, retained a connexion with its new 
 
 ministry, and at the time of his death had 
 
 been for seventy years, in all, connected with the 
 
 church at that place. 
 
 Emmons was thrice married ; to the first wife, 
 Miss Deliverance French, the daughter of Moses 
 French, of Braintree, Mass., who died three years 
 after, in 1775 ; in less than two years after, he 
 married the daughter of the Eev. Chester Wil- 
 liams, of Hadley, Mass., who was his partner till 
 1829, for a period of nearly fifty years; and in 1831, 
 in his eighty -seventh year, he was married (her 
 third ministerial husband) to Mrs. Abigail M. Mills, 
 the. widow of a clergyman of Sutton. The loss of 
 several children in advanced life caused him much 
 affliction, and drew from him, on the death of a 
 favorite daughter, one of the most touching pas- 
 sages of his discourses. His death occurred Sep- 
 tember 23d, 1840, in his ninety-sixth year. "While 
 his memory and personal vivacity and activity 
 were somewhat impaired, in the few latter years 
 of his life", he was still a great reader. " When 
 he was ninety years of age," says his biographer, 
 the Rev. A. R. Baker, " and often found it diffi- 
 cult to remember the name of yesterday's victor, 
 he would relate the contents of the last book he 
 read with surprising accuracy, and would make 
 extemporaneous criticisms upon it which would 
 have ornamented the pages of a quarterly .'"t 
 
 The writings of Emmons are numerous. He 
 published, Prof. Park tells us, "more than seven 
 thousand copies of nearly two hundred sermons, 
 besides four labored dissertations and numerous 
 essays for periodicals." The collection of his 
 works, by Ids son-in-law, Dr. Ide, containing two 
 hundred and twenty-two sermons, fills six large 
 octavo volumes ; and the editor remarks, that he 
 has the material for ten more in his hands, as 
 valuable as those which he has published.! Be- 
 sides these sermons, Emmons's uncollected writ- 
 ings include more than a hundred articles, mostly 
 on religious topics, in the New England Ecclesias- 
 tical reviews and periodicals, the Massachusetts 
 Missionary Magazine, the Connecticut Evangeli- 
 cal Magazine, the Hopkinsian Magazine, and the 
 Christian Magazine. 
 
 The style of Emmons as a writer is clear and 
 
 * This divine was born at Lebanon, Conn., in 1734, and died 
 in lS2ft. He was minister at Berlin, Conn. ; published sermons 
 on Natural and Moral Inability, 17G0; sermons on Connected 
 Subjects, 18(3, with other sermons and occasional publications. 
 
 t Memoir, Am. Quar. Beg. xv. 121. 
 
 X The Works of Kathanael Emmons, D.D., late Pastor of 
 the Church in Franklin, Mass., with a Memoir of his Life. 
 Edited by Jacob Ide, B.D. 6 vols. Svo. Boston : Crocker & 
 Brewster, 1L42. 
 
NATHANAEL EMMOXS. 
 
 247 
 
 plain, direct and forcible, without richness or 
 ornament. His own theory on the subject is 
 expressed in one of his aphorisms, — "Style is 
 only the frame to hold our thoughts. It is like 
 the sash of a window; a heavy sash will obscure 
 the light. The object is to have as little sash as 
 will hold the lights, that we may not think of the 
 frame, but have the most light." This is true in 
 some respects, though genuine ornament is part of 
 the substance, and when the sash is provided, 
 much depends upon the purity of the glass and 
 the force of the sun. 
 
 With respect to Emmons's theological views, as 
 the author of his memoirs remarks, "A perusal 
 of his works is that only which can give the 
 reader a full and accurate knowledge of his 
 opinion-;." They involve many niceties of meta- 
 physical and polemical discussion on the freedom 
 of the will and the work of conversion. Dr. Ide 
 has arranged two volumes of the discourses under 
 the title, Systematic Theology, though the author 
 himself never prepared a professed sj'stem. He 
 appears to have engrafted on the doctrine of total 
 depravity a theory of "the free, voluntary, selfish 
 affections," and he held that "men are active and 
 not passive in regeneration."* When once asked, 
 " What is the difference between natural depravity 
 and original sin?" he replied, in his quick way, 
 " Natural depravity is the truth ; original sin is a 
 lie." 
 
 .His Jeroboam sermon, on the annual fast of 
 April 9th, 1801,+ shortly after the inauguration of 
 Jefferson, has been generally understood to have 
 been levelled at the new President. It could 
 hardly be mistaken, as it plays off Solomon against 
 the infidel Rehoboam with artful parallelism to 
 the new nineteenth century. It is long drawn, 
 solemn, and withering. Reading it with the sub- 
 stitution of Washington, Adams, and Jefferson 
 for their scriptural prototypes, and taking the 
 federal politics of the time into view, it is a curi- 
 ous analogy — for example : 
 
 Jefferson as Secretary of State. — And Solomon, 
 seeing the young man that lie was industrious, made 
 him ruler over all tlie charge of the house of Joseph. 
 His appointment to such an office, by such a pene- 
 trating prince, is an infallible evidence of his popu- 
 lar talents and pleasing address. These excellent 
 and amiable accomplishments, had they been pro- 
 perly directed to the public good, would have reu- 
 dered him a great benefit to the nation. 
 
 Jefferson in Paris. — His flight into Egypt seems to 
 have been the most fatal period in Jeroboam's life. 
 * * He could not have lived among a more dan- 
 gerous people than the Egyptians, who were then 
 the most noted nation in the world for learning, mag- 
 nificence, superstition, and the grossest idolatry. 
 Hence his residence in Egypt prepared him to return 
 to his native country a more bitter enemy to the 
 God of Israel, and a more malignant opposer of all 
 his sacred rites and institutions than any pagan 
 priest or Egyptian philosopher. Such was the omi- 
 nous character of Jeroboam the son of Nebat before 
 he reached the object of his wishes, and was placed 
 iu the first seat of Government. 
 
 Jeroboam's new appointments to office. — He was 
 resolved to shake every sacred as well as civil officer 
 
 * Schedule of doctrines found among his papers.— Ide's Me- 
 moir, lxxvii. 
 t Works, ii. 184. 
 
 from his seat rather than to lose his own. We are 
 not, indeed, informed whom he appointed to stand 
 around his person and assist him in the administra- 
 tioa of government; but who can doubt whether 
 he did not display the same corruption of heart in 
 appointing the officers of state which he had dis- 
 played in appointing the officers of religion ? 
 
 His powers of conversation. — It appears from his 
 character and conduct in early life, that he possessed 
 in a high degree the art of captivating and corrupt- 
 ing all sorts of people with whom he conversed. 
 And when he was clothed with the ensigns of roy- 
 alty his power and opportunity of corrupting his 
 subjects greatly increased. He became the standard 
 of taste and model of imitation. His sentiments and 
 manners became a living law to his subjects. In his 
 familiar intercourse with all around him he undoubt- 
 edly seized those soft moments which were the most 
 favorable to his malignant design of seduction. This 
 he could do without departing from the dignity of 
 his station. 
 
 If terms and phrases like these needed any 
 " improvement," they had it in the sequel of the 
 doctor's discourse : 
 
 It is more than possible that our nation may find 
 themselves in the hands of a Jeroboam, who will 
 drive them from following the Lord, and whenever 
 they do they will rue the day, and detest the folly, 
 delusion, and intrigue which raised him to the head 
 of the United States. 
 
 And he asks the pertinent question — ■ 
 
 Who can say that men in power may not catch the 
 spirit of the times, and follow the example of Jero- 
 boam, or rather that of the late apostates in Eu- 
 rope? We are becoming more and more connected 
 with those infidel nations, whose politicians and phi- 
 losophers are the bold patrons and preachers of 
 infidelity. This mutual intercourse affords a pecu- 
 liar opportunity to try the whole force of their 
 infatuating philosophy upon us in America. And it 
 is beyond a doubt that our rulers are the most 
 exposed to their fatal delusions. 
 
 Emmons's federal politics were clearly an- 
 nounced in his sermon on American Independence, 
 July 5, 1802, in which he claims not only all the 
 sound principles of government for his friends, but 
 also the right of celebration of the National 
 Jubilee. " It is presumption," he said from the 
 pulpit, " in republicans to claim this day as their 
 own."* 
 
 There is a well drawn and interesting account 
 of Emmons, entitled Miscellaneous Reflections of 
 a Visiter upon the character of Dr. Amnions, in 
 I "a familiar lecture" to the senior class in Andover 
 Theological Seminary, by Prof. Edwards A. Park. 
 It is prefixed to the collection of the works, where it 
 forms forty-five closely printed octavo pages. We 
 may best gather from this the memorabilia of this 
 extraordinary man. "In person he was not more 
 than five feet and seven inches high, but he stood 
 erect, and was in all senses upright. When he 
 appeared in the streets of a New England city, in' 
 his latter days, with bis three-cornered hat, the 
 bright buckles on his shoe and knee, his white 
 locks flowing down his shoulders, the boys flocked 
 after him, as after a military general. System 
 characterized his movements. His guests would 
 
 * Works, H. 229. 
 
.24S 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF A31ERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 a] Trays find his hat hanging' on the same nail in 
 the study. Every chair was in its place; every 
 hook on its shelf, save the one he was reading ; 
 ami that was put into the book-case as soon as a 
 visitor arrived. His style of writing was neat as 
 his white locks. He was always attentive to his 
 chirogfaphy, and wrote a better hand at the age 
 of seventy-five than at thirty-five." 
 
 The doctor was an odd man, but there was 
 method in his oddity, and his wit was not always 
 to be encountered. "A certain divine," Prof. 
 Park tells the story, "the junior of Dr. Emmons 
 by several years, unequal lo him in acumen and 
 theological knowledge, and under some peculiar 
 'obligation to treat him with deference, was fond, 
 although doubtless a very good man, of appear- 
 ing like a metropolitan before the minister of 
 Franklin, and as he was physically at least a great 
 man, much superior in altitude to the doctor, 
 he was inclined to look down on the country par- 
 son, as the smaller of the two. This domineering 
 treatment was endured with patience until 
 patience ceased to be a virtue. Having read Dr. 
 Emmons's sermon on the Atonement, a sermon 
 which was encountering at that time some oppo- 
 sition, he sent to the Franklin minister the fol- 
 lowing .epistle: 'May 1st. My Dear Brother, 
 — I have read your sermon on the Atonement, 
 and have wept over it. Yours affectionately, 
 A. B. 0.' These admonitory words were no 
 sooner read than the following was written and 
 sent to the post-office : ' May 3d. Dear Sir, — I 
 have read your letter and laughed at it. Yours, 
 Natiiaxael Em.moxs.' " To a young preacher he 
 said, " Your sermon was too much like Seekonk 
 plain, long and level." A drunken sceptic asked 
 him, "What is understood by the soul of man?" 
 "No," said the doctor, "I can't tell a man that 
 hasn't got any." Conversing once with a lapsing 
 theological opponent, whom he had pressed hard, 
 when the victim took refuge in the assertion, 
 " "Well, every tub must stand upon its own bot- 
 tom " — "Yes, yes," said the doctor, "but what 
 shall those tubs do that haven't any bottoms?" 
 ■ H : s shrewd, vigorous sense is exhibited in many 
 a dogmatic utterance. On being asked what was 
 the best system of rhetoric for a clergyman, he 
 gave these two rules : — " First, have something 
 , to say ; second, say it." Many of his terse con- 
 versational aphorism? have been preserved. " Of 
 the two Edwardses," he said, " the father had 
 more reason than his son, but the son was a 
 greater reasoner than his father." " Great men," 
 was one of his maxims, " always committed great 
 errors." Of the pulpit, it was his remark, 
 "Preach with animation er.ongh to produce a 
 great excitement of the natural sympathies, which 
 will make persons think they have some native 
 goodness;" and, "Be short in all religious exer- 
 cises. Better leave the people longing than 
 loathing. No conversions after the hour is out." 
 " A man must not only know the truth, but know 
 that he knows it." " The worst books," he said, 
 " were the best : they compel us to think." 
 
 The doctor kept a jealous eye upon his flock, 
 sedulously guarding them from sectarian wolves. 
 That we do not use the last word unadvisedly 
 may be learnt from an anecdote illustrating Em- 
 mons's downright brusque manner, preserved in 
 the memoir of Ide. " A very respectable clergy- 
 
 man of another denomination was solicited by a 
 gentleman in Franklin to come and preach at his 
 house, and, as Dr. Emmons thought, with .a view 
 to make an impression upon his people in favor 
 of the peculiarities of that denomination. Shortly 
 after receiving the invitation, this clergyman met 
 Dr. Emmons in Boston, and told him that he had 
 been invited to come and give his people a ser- 
 mon. The doctor very pleasantly replied, 'You 
 have a very important sphere of labor assigned 
 you where you are. You need not take the 
 trouble to come to Franklin. I can take care of 
 my own fleck.' ' But,' said the clergyman, ' you 
 will not object to my coming?' The doctor, un- 
 derstanding by this that he was still inclined to 
 come, notwithstanding the hint which had been 
 given him, made the following characteristic 
 reply: 'I do object, and if you come to Franklin 
 in our present circumstances I'll consider and 
 treat you as a wolf in sheep's clothing.' This 
 clergyman never came." 
 
 There are some interesting observations by 
 Prof. Park in his notes on Emmons, with respect 
 to the habits of study, and longevity of the clergy 
 of New England. " We read of the two Edwardses, 
 Hopkins, Smaller, Stiles, Chauney,' and Dwight, 
 as at their books thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and 
 sometimes eighteen hours of the day. Dr. Emmons, 
 in this respect, equalled any of them. Mr. Stod- 
 dard of Northampton died at eighty-six; Dr. In- 
 crease Mather at eighty-four; Dr. Cotton Mather 
 at sixty-five; Dr. Stiles at sixty-eight; Dr. Johnson 
 at seventy -six ; Dr. Hopkins at eighty-three ; Dr. 
 Bellamy at seventy-two ; Dr. Hart at si_ty-nine;' 
 President Chauney, of Harvard, and Dr. Chauney, 
 of Boston, at eighty-two ; Dr. Smalley at eighty- 
 six ; Dr. AVest* at eighty-four; Dr. Strong at sixty- 
 eight; Dr. Lothrop at ninety. These divines 
 lived abstemiously, but neglected physical exercise. 
 'I do not ascribe my long continued health,' said 
 Dr. Emmons, 'to any whimsical care of my diet; 
 what has hurt me I have not eaten. I have 
 avoided stimulating liquids, have seldom drunk 
 coti'ee unless it were half milk and half sugar, 
 have been always temperate in the use of simple 
 food, and have secured good sleep.' "t There 
 
 * There -were three Wests of repute in the old New Erg- 
 land churches: fcanmel, the minister of New- Bedford, who 
 died in 18m, at the age of seventy-seven. He published, 
 among other doctrinal ■writings, "Essays on Liberty and Ne- 
 cessity, 1 ' in two parts, in 17&3"and 1765, in which he reviewed 
 the arguments of Edwards. Another Samuel West, horn 
 at Martha s Vineyard, in 1738, was minister at Needham and 
 in Boston, lie died in l&lS, having published a number of 
 sermons and the Essays, in the CoiumUan Ccntiuel. of "an Old 
 Wan," in l&i u' and n 7. Stephen West, the minister of Stock- 
 bridge, published an Essay on Moral Agency in 1772, and was 
 also the author of a Treatise on the Atonement. He was born 
 in Tolland. Conn,, 1730, and died in Itlil. Joseph Bellamy was 
 a native of Connecticut, born at New Cheshire,, in 171'.'. lie 
 was fifty years minister of the church at Bethlcm. He died in 
 1790. His works were collected in three volumes, in 1S11, and 
 were reprinted in two volumes octavo, in 1SS3, by the Doc- 
 trinal Tract and Book Society, Boston. His True Religion. 
 Delineated was published in 175.:. 
 
 t Emmons sat in the same study chair more than half a cen- 
 tury, and when about ninety years of age he relaxed the Severity 
 of his mental toil, he fitly consented to abandon the old aim 
 chair for a new and easier one. " I should like well enough to 
 travel," he said in his latter days of leisure* "if 1 could lake my 
 study with me. Habits are stubborn tilings; and I have be- 
 come so accustomed to this room, lo this dosk, to this chair, 
 and to this spot where I sit, that i do not feel at home any- 
 where else. 1 cannot talk anywhere else.'' He had a regufar 
 hour for conversation witli his students and friends; and a pe- 
 culiar movement of his body towards the study-table was equal 
 to a sheriff's order that the room should be cleared, aLd ho Le 
 left alone. — Prof. Paiks Notices. 
 
JAMES MOODY. 
 
 249 
 
 was much, too, in the assurance of a settled 
 position, and the absorption of care in "the quiet 
 and -till air of delightful studies." 
 
 JAMES MOODT, 
 
 A loyalist of the American war, whom the out- 
 breaking of the Revolution found at his farm in 
 Now Jersey, lias left a well written account of his 
 celebrated partisan warfare, which gave much 
 trouble to the movements of Washington, in a 
 pamphlet published in London in 1783, entitled 
 Lieut. James Moody's fflarjvUive of his Exertions 
 and Sufferings in the Cause of Government, since 
 the year 1776, with certificates from Gov. Wm. 
 Franklin, of New Jersey, the Rev. Dr. Inglis of 
 New York, and others. He went through many 
 perilous, hair-breadth adventures, preserving his 
 life in extraordinary emergencies by his selt-pos- 
 session and bravery. As his pamphlet is now 
 very scarce, we present one or two of these 
 scenes in his well written narrative.* Here is 
 an anecdote of his ubiquitous presence; for like 
 the true partisan, he was everywhere, at least to 
 the imagination of his enemies ; with an affecting 
 story of a true man, who deserved a better fate . — 
 
 Returning again into 'Sussex county, he now heard 
 that several prisoners were confined, on various 
 suspicions and charges of loyalty, in the jail of that 
 county ; and that one of them was actually under 
 sentence of de:ith. This poor fellow was one of 
 Burgoyne's soldiers, charged with crimes ol a civil 
 nature, of which, however, he was generally be- 
 lieve! to bo innocent. But when a clergyman of 
 the L'hurch-of England interposed with his unrelent- 
 ing prosecutor, and warmly urged this plea of inno- 
 cence, he was sharply told, that, though he might 
 not perhaps deserve to die for the crime for which 
 he had been committed, there could be no doubt of 
 his deserving to die, as an enemy to America. 
 There was something so piteous, as well as shame- 
 ful, in the case of this ill-fated victim to republican 
 resentment, that it was determined, if possible, to 
 release both him and his fellow-prisoners. For this 
 purpose,' Mr. Moody took with him six men ; and, 
 late at night, entered the country town, about 
 seventy miles from New York. The inhabitants of 
 the town were but too generally disaffected. This 
 suggested the necessity of stratagem. Coming to 
 the jail, the keeper called Out from the window of 
 an upper room, and demanded what their business 
 was ? The Ensign instantly replied, He had a pri- 
 soner to deliver into his custody. "What! one of 
 Moody's fellows ?" said the jailor. " Yes," said the 
 Ensign. On his inquiring what the name of this 
 supposed prisoner was, one of the party, who was 
 well known by the inhabitants'of that place to be 
 with Mr. Moody, personated the character of a pri- 
 soner, and spoke for himself. The jailor gave him 
 a little ill language; but, notwithstanding, seemed 
 highly pleased with the idea of his having so noto- 
 rious a Tory in his custody. On the Ensign's urg- 
 ing him to come down, and take charge of the 
 man, he peremptorily refused ; alleging, that in con- 
 sequence of Moody's being out, he had received 
 strict orders to open his doors to no man after sun- 
 set; and that therefore he must wait till morning. 
 Finding that this tale would not take, the Ensign 
 now changed his note; and, in a stern tone, told 
 him, " Sirrah, the man- who ndw srjeaks to you is 
 
 * We fire indebted for a copy of this work to the courtesy 
 of Air. W. J. Duvis, of this city. 
 
 Moody : I have a strong party with me. and if you 
 do not this moment deliver up your keys, 1 will in- 
 stantly pull down your house about your ears." 
 The jailor vanished in a moment, On this Mr. 
 Moody's men, who were well skilled in the Indian 
 war-whoop, made the air resound with such a vari- 
 ety of hideous yells, as soon left them nothing to 
 fear from the inhabitants of New Town, which, 
 though the county town, consists only of twenty or 
 thirty houses. "The Indians! the Indians are 
 come," said the panic-struck people ; and happy 
 were they who could soonest escape into the woods.' 
 While these things were thus going on, the Ensigu 
 had made his way through a casement, and was met 
 by a prisoner, whom he immediately employed to 
 procure him a light. The vanquished jailor was 
 now again produced, and most obsequiously con- 
 ducted Mr. Moody to the dungeon of the poor 
 wretch under sentence of death. 
 
 It may seem incredible, but it is an undoubted 
 fact, that, notwithstanding all the horrors and 
 awfulness of his situation,. this poor, forlorn, con- 
 demned British soldier was found fast asleep, and 
 had slept so so.und as to have heard nothing of the 
 uproar or alarm. There is no possibility of describ- 
 ing the agony of this man, when, on being thus sud- 
 denly aroused, he saw before him a man in arms, 
 attended by persons, whom, though they were fami- 
 liarly known to him, so agitated were his spirits, he 
 waS .utterly at a loss then to recognise. The first, 
 and the only idea that occurred to him was, that, as 
 many of the friends ot Government had been pri- 
 vately executed in prison, the person he saw was 
 his executioner. On Mr. Moody's repeatedly inform- 
 ing him of his mistake, and that he was come to re- 
 lease hmi in the name of King George, the transi- 
 tion fro n such an abyss of wretchedness to so extra- 
 vagant a pitch of joy had well nigh overcome him. 
 Never before had the writer been present at so 
 affecting a scene. The image of the poor soldier, 
 alternately agitated with the extremes, of despair 
 and rapture, is, at this moment, present to his ima- 
 gination, as strong almost as if the object were still 
 before him; and he has often thought, there are few 
 subjects 6,i which a painter of taste and sensibility 
 could more happily employ his pencil. The man 
 looked wild, and undoubtedly was wild, and hardly 
 in his senses; and yet he labored, and was big with 
 some of the noblest sentiments and most powerful 
 passions by which the human mind is ever actu- 
 ated. In such circumstances it was with some diffi- 
 culty that the English got him away. At length, 
 however, his clothes were got on ; and he, with all 
 the rest who chose to avail themselves of the oppor- 
 tunity, were conducted into safety, notwithstanding 
 a warm pursuit of several days. 
 
 The humane reader, Mr. Moody persuades him- 
 self, will not be less affected than he himself. was, at 
 the mournful sequel of this poor soldier's tale. In 
 the course of war he was again taken, and again 
 conducted to the dungeon, a. id afterwards actually 
 executed on the same sentence on which lie had 
 been before convicted; though he left the world 
 with the most solemn asseverations of his innocence 
 as to any crime of which he hid been accused, ex- 
 cepting only an unshaken allegiance to his sove- 
 reign. 
 
 A few other particulars respecting this poor man, 
 who, though but a common soldier in a marching 
 regiment, was, in all the essential and best parts of 
 tlie character, an hero, the writer cannot excuse 
 himself from the relation of. His situation and cir- 
 cumstances in the rebel country being peculiar, Mr. 
 Moody not thinking it proper himself to return 
 thither so soon, took the earliest means he could to 
 
250 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 have him conveyed safe to New York. But no 
 arguments, no entreaties could prevail with him to 
 leave his deliverer. " To you," said he, " I owe my 
 life; to you and inyourservicelet medevoteit. You 
 have found me in, circumstances of ignominy ; I wish 
 for an opportunity to convince you that you have 
 not been mistaken in thinking me innocent. I am, 
 and you shall find me, a good soldier." It was to 
 this fatal but fixed determination that he soon after 
 owed the loss of his life. 
 
 When he was brought to the place Of execution, 
 the persons wdio had charge of him told him they 
 had authority to promise him a reprieve ; and they 
 did most solemnly promise it to him, on condition 
 only that he would tell them who the loyalists in 
 the country were, that had assisted Moody. His 
 reply was most manly and noble ; and proves that 
 real nobility and dignity of sentiment are appropri- 
 ated to no particular rank or condition of life. " I 
 love life," he said, " and there is nothing which a 
 man of honor can do, that 1 would not do to save 
 it; but I cannot pay this price for it. The men 
 you wish me to betray must be good men, because 
 they have assisted a good man in. a good cause. 
 Innocent as I am, I feel this an awful moment. 
 How far it becomes you to tempt me to make it ter- 
 rible, by overwhelming me in the basest guilt, your- 
 selves must judge. My life is in your power; my 
 conscience, I thank God, is still my own." 
 
 Another extraordinary circumstance is said to 
 have befallen him, which, as well as the preceding, 
 Mr. Moody relates, on the testimony of an eye-wit- 
 ness, yet living. Though he was a small and light 
 man, yet the rope with which he was suspended 
 broke. Even still tins poor man's admirable pre- 
 sence of mind and dignity of conscious innocence 
 did not forsake him. He instantly addressed him- 
 self to the surrounding multitude, in the following 
 words: "Gentlemen, I cannot but hope that this 
 very extraordinary event will convince you of 
 what I again solemnly protest to you, that 1 am in- 
 nocent of the crime for which you have adjudged 
 me to die." But he still protested in vain. 
 
 The supposed crime for which he suffered was, 
 the plundering and robbing the house of a certain 
 furious and powerful rebel. But it would be unjust 
 to his memory not to certify, as Mr. Moody does, 
 that he has since learned, from the voluntary con- 
 fession of a less conscientious loyalist, that this 
 honest man was charged wrongfully, inasmuch as he 
 himself, without the knowledge of the other, on the 
 principles of retaliation and revenge, had com- 
 mitted the crime. The name of the above-men- 
 tioned honest soldier and martyr was Robert Max- 
 well, a Scotsman, who had had a good education. 
 
 He made a famous attempt to secure the person 
 of Gov. Livingston, of New Jersey, in which he 
 ■ failed from information given by one of his com- 
 rades. His favorite exploit was to cut off the 
 American despatches, which hefrequently brought 
 into New York. He was taken and imprisoned 
 at West Point, where he found General Arnold a 
 rigorous jailor. Writing some time after Arnold's 
 treason, he naively says, " Under new masters, it 
 is hoped, General Arnold has learned new max- 
 ims. Compelled by truth, however, Mr. Moody 
 must bear him testimony, that lie was then faith- 
 ful to his employers, and abated not an iota in 
 fulfilling both the letter and the spirit of their 
 general orders and instructions." His subsequent 
 escape is thus told : — ■ 
 
 The ways of Providence are often mysterious, 
 
 frequently bringing about its ends by the most un- 
 likely means. To this inhuman treatment in Gene- 
 ral Arnold's camp, Mr. Moody owed his future safety. 
 On the 1st of September, he was carried to Wash- 
 ington's camp, and there confined near their Libeity 
 pole. Colonel Skammel, the Adjutant General, 
 came to see him put in irons. When they had 
 handcuffed him, he remonstrated with the Colonel, 
 desiring that his legs, which were indeed in a worse 
 situation than even his wrists, might be examined; 
 farther adding only, that death would be infinitely 
 preferable to a repetition of the torments he had 
 just undergone. The Colonel did examine his legs; 
 and on seeing them, he also acknowledged that his 
 treatment had indeed been too bad; and asked if 
 General Arnold had been made acquainted with his 
 situation. Mr. Moody feels a sincere pleasure in thus 
 publicly acknowledging his obligations and his 
 gratitude to Colonel Skammel, who humanely gave 
 orders to the Provost Marshal to take good care of 
 him, and by no means to suffer any irons to be put 
 on his legs, till they were likely to prove less dis- 
 tressing. 
 
 Mr. Moody attended the rebel army in its march 
 over the New Bridge ; and had an opportunity of 
 observing their whole line, and counting their artil- 
 lery. Everything seemed smooth and fair; and he 
 felt himself much at ease, in the prospect of being 
 soon exchanged; when, very unexpectedly, he was 
 visited by an old acquaintance, one of their Colonels, 
 who informed him that he was in twb days' time to 
 be brought to trial ; that Livingston was to be his 
 prosecutor, and that the Court Martial was carefully 
 picked for the purpose. He subjoined that he 
 would do w r ell to prepare for eternity, since, from 
 the evidence which he knew would be produced, 
 there was but one issue of the business to be 
 expected. Mr. Moody requested to be informed, 
 what it was the purpose of this evidence to prove? 
 It was, his well-wisher told him, that he had assassi- 
 nated a Captain Shaddock and a Lieutenant Hen- 
 drickson. These were the two officers who had fallen 
 fairly in battle near Black Point, as has been already 
 related. The Ensign replied, that he felt himself 
 much at ease on that account, as it could be suffi- 
 ciently cleared up by their own people, who had 
 been in, and had survived the action, as well as by 
 some of their officers, who were at the time prison- 
 ers to him, and spectators of the whole affair. "All 
 this," said his friend, " will be of little avail ; you 
 are so obnoxious ; you have been, and are likely to 
 be, so mischievous to us, that, be assured, we are 
 resolved to get rid of you at any rate. Besides, 
 you cannot deny, and it can be proved by incontes- 
 table evidence, that you have enlisted men, in this 
 state, for the King's service, and this, by our laws, 
 is death." 
 
 Ensign Moody affected an air of unconcern at this 
 information ; but it was too serious and important 
 to him to be really disregarded ; he resolved, there- 
 fore, from that moment, to effect his escape, or to 
 perish in the attempt. 
 
 Every precaution had been taken to secure the 
 place in which he was confined. It was nearly in 
 the centre of the rebel camp. A sentinel was placed 
 within the door of his prison, and another without, 
 besides four others close round, and within a few 
 yards of the place. The time now came on when 
 he must either make his escape, or lose the oppor- 
 tunity forever. On the night, therefore, of the 17 th 
 of September, busy in ruminating on his project, he 
 had, on the pretence of being cold, got a watch-coat 
 thrown across his shoulders, that he .might better 
 conceal, from his unpleasant companion, the opera- 
 tions which lie meditated against his handcuffs, 
 
JOSIAH QUINCY, JR. 
 
 251 
 
 While he was racking his invention, to find some 
 possible means of extricating himself from his fetters, 
 he providentially cast his e\"e on a post fastened in 
 the ground, through -which an hole had been bored 
 with an auger ; and it occurred to him that it might 
 be possible, with the aid of this hole, to break the 
 bolt of his handcuffs. Watching the opportunity, 
 therefore, from time to time, of the sentinel's look- 
 ing another way, lie thrust the point of the bolt 
 into the above-mentioned hole, and by cautiously 
 exerting his strength, and gradually bending the 
 iron backwards and forwards, he at length broke it. 
 Let the reader imagine what his sensations were, 
 when he found the manacles drop from his hands! 
 He sprung instantly past the interior sentinel, and 
 rushing on the next, with one hand he seized his 
 musket, and with the other struck him to the ground. 
 The sentinel within, and the four others who were 
 placed by the fence surrounding the place of his 
 confinement, immediately gave the alarm ; and in a 
 moment the cry was general — " Moody is escaped 
 from the Provost." It is impossible to describe the 
 uproar which now took place throughout the whole 
 camp. In a few minutes every man was in a bustle; 
 every man was looking for Moody, and multitudes 
 passed him on all sides, little suspecting that a man 
 whom they saw deliberately marching along, with a 
 musket on his shoulder, could be the fugitive they 
 were in quest of. The darkness of the night, which 
 was also blustering and drizzly, prevented a.iy dis- 
 crimination of his person, and was indeed the great 
 circumstance that rendered his escape possible. 
 
 But no small difficulty still remained to be sur- 
 mounted. To prevent desertion, Washington had 
 surrounded his camp with a chain of sentinels, post- 
 ed at about forty or fifty yards' distance from each 
 other; he was unacquainted with their stations; to 
 pass them undiscovered was next to impossible ; and 
 to be discovered would certainly be fatal. In this 
 dilemma Providence again befriended him. He had 
 gained their station without knowing it, when luck- 
 ily he heard the watchword passed from one to 
 another — ■" Look sharp to the chain : Moody is 
 escaped from the Provost." From the sound of the 
 voices he ascertainel the respective situations of 
 these sentinels; and throwing himself on his hands 
 and knees, he was happy enough to crawl through 
 the vacant space between two of them, unseen by 
 either. Judging that their line of pursuit would 
 naturally be towards the British arm} 1 , he made a 
 detour into the woods on the opposite side. Through 
 these woods he made as much speed as the darkness 
 of the night would permit, steering his course, after 
 the Indian manner, by occasionally groping and 
 feeling the white oak. On the south side t!ie bark 
 of this tree is rough and unpleasant to the touch, 
 but ou the north side it is smooth ; hence it serves 
 the sagacious traverser of the desert, by night as 
 well as by day, for his compass. Through the most 
 dismal woods and swamps he continued to wander 
 till the night of the 21st, a space of more than fifty- 
 six hours, during which tim ■ he had. no other sus- 
 tenance than a few beejh leaves (which, of all that 
 the woods afforded, were the least unpleasant to the 
 taste, and least pernicious to health), which he chew- 
 ed and swallowed, to abate the intolerable cravings 
 of his hunger. 
 
 Ill every inhabited district he knew there were 
 friends of Government; and he had now learned 
 also, where and how to find them out, without 
 endangering their safety, which was always the first 
 object of his concern. From some of these good 
 men he received minute information how the pursuit 
 after him was directed, and where every guard was 
 posted. Thus assisted, he eluded their keenest vigi- 
 
 lance: and, at length, by God's blessing, to his 
 unspeakable joy he arrived safe at Paulus liook. 
 
 Moody went to England, at the close of the 
 war, with recommendations to Government from 
 Sir Henry Clinton, and afterwards settled on his 
 half pay in Nova Scotia, where he died at Sissi- 
 bou, in 1809, at the age of sixty-five.* 
 
 JOSIAH QUIXCY, JR. 
 
 Edmttn'h. the first of the name of Quincy, in New 
 EngUind, landed at Boston with John Cotton, the 
 eminent divine, in September, 1633. We hear in 
 1G35 of a grant of land on Mount Wollaston to 
 him by the town, and soon after of his death, at 
 the age of thirty-three. His only son, Edmund, 
 born in England in 1627, who lived on the lands 
 at Mount Wollaston, afterwards called Braintree, 
 was a country magistrate, and died in 16117. He 
 had two sons, Daniel and Edmund, both of whom 
 died before him. Daniel left a son John, born in 
 1689, who served for forty years as a representa- 
 tive of his district in the Provincial Legislature, 
 and as a member of the Executive Council, and 
 died a day after the birth of his great-grandson, 
 John Quincy Adams. 
 
 J^? 
 
 The youngest son of Daniel's brother, Edmund, 
 was born in 1681, and died at London in 1738, 
 while engaged as the agent of the colony in press- 
 ing her claims in the dispute as to the boundary 
 between her territory and that of New Hamp- 
 shire. During the latter part of his life he tilled 
 the office of Judge of the Supremo Court of Mas- 
 sachusetts. Josiah, the youngest of Ids two sons, 
 was born in 1709, and in 1755 appointed by Go- 
 vernor Shirley to negotiate with New York and 
 Pennsylvania for the establishment of the frontier 
 post of. Ticonderoga. He executed other impor- 
 tant public trusts, and died in 1784. His young- 
 est son, Josiah Quincy, Jr., was born at Boston, 
 Feb. 22, 1744, and educated at the school of Mr. 
 Joseph Marsh in Braintree. He entered Harvard 
 in 1759, and was a hard student, not only of the 
 Greek and Latin but also of the English classics. 
 A closely written manuscript of seventy pages 
 quarto, filled with extracts from Shakespeare, is 
 still extant with the date 1762. On taking Ids 
 Master's degree in 1766, lie delivered an English 
 oration on Patriotism, a fitting commencement of 
 his public career. He had previously bo this, in 
 1763, commenced the study of law with the dis- 
 tinguished Oxenbridge Tliacher of Boston. He 
 succeeded, on the death of his instructor, in July, 
 1765, to the care of the office, and on his admis- 
 sion to the bar, to a large practice. A number 
 of MS. volumes of Reports from his hand at this 
 time proves his industry and enthusiasm in his 
 profession. He is said to have been the first 
 
 * Sabine's Biographical Sketches of American Loyalists, p. 
 
252 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 lawyer who put his name on a " shingle" at his 
 office dour. 
 
 . Quincy commenced his career as political writer 
 by the publication of two articles in the Boston 
 Gazette, in September and October, 1767, on the 
 recent restrictions on the commerce and enlarge- 
 ment of the military forces of the colonies. One 
 of these contains this spirited passage. 
 
 In defence of our civil and religions rights, we 
 dare oppose the world; with the God of armies on 
 our side, even the God who fought our fathers' bat- 
 tles, we fear not the hour of trial, though the hosts 
 of our enemies should cover the field like locusts. 
 If this be enthusiasm, we will bve and die enthu- 
 siasts. 
 
 Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor will 
 threats of a " halter" intimidate. For under God, 
 we are determined, that wheresoever, whensoever, 
 or howsoever, we shall be called to make our exit, 
 we will die freemen. Weil do we know that all the 
 regalia of this world cannot dignify the death of a 
 villain, nor diminish the ignominy, with which a 
 slave shall quit Ids existence. ]S either can it taint 
 the unblemished honor of a son of freedom, though 
 he should make his departure on the already pre- 
 pared gibbet, or be dragged to the newly erected 
 scaffold for execution. With the plaudits of his con- 
 science he will go off the stage. A crown of joy and 
 immortality shall be his reward. The history of his 
 life his children shall venerate. The virtues of their 
 sire shall excite their emulation. 
 
 He followed these by others of a similar cha- 
 racter during the next year. The landing of 
 troops in October called forth a vigorous appeal. 
 
 Oh, my countrymen ! what will our children say, 
 when they read the history of these times, should 
 they find we tamely gave away, without one noble 
 struggle, the most invaluable of earthly blessings? 
 As tiiey drag the gallir.g chain, will they not exe- 
 crate us ? If we have any respect for things sacred ; 
 any regard to the dearest treasure on earth ; — if we 
 have one tender sentiment for posterity ; if we would 
 not be despised by the whole world ; — let us, in the 
 most open, solemn manner, and with determined 
 fortitude, swear, — we will die, — if we cannot live 
 freemen ! 
 
 Be not lulled, my countrymen, with vain imagina- 
 tions or idle fancies. To hope for the protection of 
 Heaven, without doing our duty, and exerting our- 
 selves as becomes men, is to mock the Deity. 
 "Wherefore had man his reason, if it were not to 
 direct him? Wherefore his strength, if it be not his 
 protection ? To banish folly and luxury, correct 
 vice and immorality, and stand immovable in the 
 freedom, in which we are free indeed, is eminently 
 the duty of each individual, at this day. When this 
 is done, we may rationally hope for an answer to 
 our prayers; for the whole counsel of God, and the 
 invincible armour of the Almighty. 
 
 However righteous our cause, we cannot, in this 
 period of the world, expect a miraculous salvation. 
 Heaven will undoubtedly assist us, if we act like 
 men ; but to expect protection from above, while we 
 are enervated by luxury, and slothful in the exertion 
 of those abilities with which we are endued, is an 
 expectation vain and foolish. With the smiles of 
 Heaven, virtue, unanimity, and firmness will insure 
 success. While we have equity, justice, -and God on 
 our side, Tyranny, spiritual or temporal, shall never 
 ride triumphant in a land inhabited by Englishmen. 
 
 His increasing practice prevented him from su- 
 
 pervising the printing of these essays, but an in- 
 scription on one of his MSS., " Let Samuel Adams, 
 Esq., correct the press," shows that this duty also 
 was in patriot hands. In October, 1769, he mar- 
 ried a daughter of William Phillips, a Boston 
 merchant, who afterwards rendered liberal finan- 
 cial assistance to the great cause. He still con- 
 tinued his communications under various signa- 
 tures, and on the 12th of February, 1770, said in 
 one of these — 
 
 From a conviction in my own mind, that America 
 is now the slave of Britain ; from a sense that we are 
 every day more and more in danger of an increase 
 of our burdens, and a fastening of our shackles, I 
 wish to see my countrymen break off, — off for ever! 
 — all social intercourse with those, whose commerce 
 contaminates, whose luxuries poison, whose avarice 
 is insatiable, and whose unnatural oppressions are 
 not to be borne. That Americans will know their 
 lights, that they will resume, assert, and defend 
 them, are matters of which I harbour no doubt. 
 Whether the arts of policy, or the arts of war, will 
 decide the contest, are problems, we will solve at a 
 more convenient season. He, whose heart is en- 
 amoured with the refinements of political artifice 
 and finesse, will seek one mode of relief; he whose 
 heart is free, honest, and intrepid, will pursue ano- 
 ther, a bolder, and more noble mode of redress. 
 This reply is so intelligible, that it needs no com- 
 ment or explanation. 
 
 The Boston Massacre occurred on the fifth of 
 March following, and Quincy, to his surprise, was 
 chosen by Colonel Preston, the English comman- 
 der, as his counsel. He accepted and discharged 
 the duty with his colleague, John Adams, not- 
 withstanding the opposition of .his friends and the 
 censure of an excited public opinion. That opi- 
 nion has long since justified a prediction con- 
 tained in a letter to his father, explanatory of his 
 course. 
 
 I dare affirm, that you and this whole people will 
 one day rejoice, that I became an advocate for the 
 aforesaid " criminals," charged with the murder of 
 our fellow-eitizens. 
 
 I never harboured the expectation, nor any great 
 desire, that all men should speak well of me. To 
 inquire my duty, and to do it, is my aim. Being 
 mortal, I am subject to error; and conscious of this, 
 I wish to be diffident. Being a rational creature, I 
 judge for myself, according to the light afforded me. 
 When a plan of conduct is formed with an honest 
 deliberation, neither murmuring, slander, nor re- 
 proaches move. For my single self, I consider, 
 judge, and with reason hope to be immutable. 
 
 There are honest men in all sects, — I wish their 
 approbation ;— there are wicked bigots in all par- 
 ties, — I abhor them. 
 
 Preston was defended and acqnitted, but the 
 opinions of his counsel remained unchanged on 
 the political bearing of the act. In a communi- 
 cation published February 11, 1771, he laments 
 "hearing so little discourse relative to a decent, 
 manly, and. instructive commemoration of the 
 melancholy tragedy of the fifth of March, 1770." 
 An oversight which was speedily corrected, the 
 "Boston Massacre Orations" having been com- 
 menced on the first anniversary of that event, and 
 continued for several years. 
 
 At the close of 1772, symptoms of pulmonary 
 disease having begun to develope themselves in 
 
JEREMY BELKNAP. 
 
 253 
 
 consequence of Mr. Quincy's intense application 
 to business, lie sought relief in a voyage to 
 Charleston. He returned by land, and his jour- 
 nal, containing a curious though brief sketch of 
 the places he visited, is printed in his life by his 
 son. He returned in May with improved health. 
 During the next month the celebrated letters of 
 Hutchinson and others were discovered and trans- 
 mitted to the colonies by Franklin. Soon after 
 their publication Quinoy wrote a series of papers 
 with the. signature of Marchmont Needham, one of 
 which contains this passage : — 
 
 If to appear for my country is treason, and to arm 
 for her detene'e is rebellion,— like my fathers, I will 
 glory in the name of rebel and traitor, — as they did 
 in that of puritan and enthusiast 
 
 In May, 1774, he published a political pamph- 
 let, Observations on the act of Parliament, com- 
 monly called " The Boston Port Bill" with 
 Thoughts on Civil Society and Standing Armies. 
 It is sound and forcible in its reasoning, and con- 
 tains passages of much eloquence. 
 
 In September, 1774, Mr. Quinoy sailed for 
 England, with the double hope of reinvigorating 
 his constitution and effecting something for the 
 benefit of his country with the home government, 
 lie became acquainted in London with Lord 
 North and other leading statesmen of both par- 
 ties, and also with Franklin. Of the last he 
 writes, November 27, 1774 — 
 
 Be careful what parts of this letter you publish ; 
 without absolute necessity, do not publish any. Br. 
 Franklin and others complain much of their letters 
 being made public. It is a fear of that, that pre- 
 vents liini and many more from writing to yon. 
 
 Br. Franklin is an American in heart and soul. 
 You may trust him ; his ideas are not contracted 
 within the narrow limits of exemption from taxes, 
 but are extended upon the broad scale of total 
 emancipation. He is explicit and bold upon the 
 subject; and his hopes are as sanguine as my own, 
 of the triumph of liberty iu America. 
 
 His correspondence soon bears witness to the 
 hopelessness of negotiation, and the necessity of 
 firmness and resolution on the part of America. 
 He continued to reside in London, attending the 
 American debates in Parliament, visiting, and 
 now and then going to see Garriok, but without 
 improvement to his health. On the 16th of 
 March, 1775, he sailed for Boston. 'When not 
 more than three days at sea, he dictated to a 
 seaman a farewell latter to his friends at home, 
 anticipating that he should not live through the 
 voyage. In it he says : — ■ 
 
 Foreseeing that there will be many inexplicable 
 circumstances in the way of my friends, to account 
 for many things relating to my conduct, I should 
 have been glad, if God had spared my life, to con- 
 verse with them once more. But this, his holy Pro- 
 vidence seems fully settled to deny. Some few 
 matters I have prevailed with a friend on board to 
 minute for their information. 
 
 My going to America at this time was very con- 
 siderably against my inclinations, especially as Boc- 
 tor Fothergill was of opinion that Bristol waters 
 would be of great advantage to me. But he did not 
 dissuade me from going to America, but advised it 
 very strongly in preference to my staying in Loudon, 
 or its environs. 
 
 The most weighty motive of all that determined 
 my conduct, was the extreme urgency of about fif- 
 teen or twenty most staunch friends to America, and 
 many of them the most learned and respectable cha- 
 racters in the king lorn, for my immediately pro- 
 ceeding to Boston. Their sentiments what ought to 
 be the conduct of Boston, and of the continent, at 
 this, and the approaching season, I hail heard very 
 often in the social circle; and in what things they 
 differed I perfectly knew. It appeared of high im- 
 portance that the sentiments of such persons should 
 be known in America. To commit their sentiments 
 to writing, was neither practicable nor prudent at 
 this time. To the bosom of a friend they could in- 
 trust what might be of great advantage to my coun- 
 try. To me that trust was committed, and I was, 
 immediately upon my arrival, to assemble certain 
 persons, to whom I was to communicate my trust, 
 and had God spared my life, it seems it would have 
 been of great service to my country. * 
 
 ,* * * * ■* * * 
 
 * Ever since I have been out, almost 
 
 everything has been different from what I expected. 
 Instead of pleasant weather, the most inclement and 
 damp, which removes me entirely from the deck, 
 and when I was flattered with the hope of getting 
 into port six days ago, I am yet here, as distant 
 from it as when the encouragement was given me. 
 Had Providence been pleased that I should have 
 reached America six days ago, I should have been 
 able to converse with my friends. 1 am persuaded 
 that this voyage and passage are the instruments to 
 put au end to my being. His holy will be done ! 
 
 He grew woaker and weaker, and on the 
 twenty-sixth of April, within sight of land, and 
 almost within hearing of the news of the battle of 
 Lexington, expired "in solitude, amidst suffer- 
 ing, without associate, and without witness; yet 
 breathing forth a dying wish for his country, de- 
 siring to live only to perform towards her a last 
 and signal service."* His remains were brought 
 into port in the ship at Gloucester, and the siege' 
 of Boston having dispersed his relatives and 
 friends, were buried there by kind but strange 
 hands. As. soon as the district was sufficiently 
 tranquil, they were removed by his aged father 
 to the burial-ground at Braintree. A monument 
 was raised over his resting-place after his widow 
 had been, in 1.798, placed beside him, with an in- 
 scription by John Quinoy Adams, closing with 
 these well-turned lines: — 
 
 STKANOEB, 
 
 Iu contemplating this monument, the frail tribute 
 Of filial gratitude, and affection, 
 
 Glows thy bold breast with patriotic flame? 
 Let his example point the paths of fame I 
 Or seeks thy heart, averse from public strife, 
 The milder graces of domestic life? 
 Her kindred virtues let thy soul revere, 
 And o'er the best of mothers drop a tear. 
 
 JEREMY BELKNAP. 
 
 I Tins eminent New England clergyman and his- 
 
 ' torian was born June 4, 1744, in Boston, where 
 
 the family resided for three generations. His 
 
 habits in childhood showed the future antiquarian 
 
 and historian. At ten years of age he made neat 
 
 * Life by J. Quiacy. p. 348. 
 
254 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 abstracts of the sermons at the Old South Church ; 
 and from his entrance at Harvard, at fifteen, kept, 
 through his life, series of interleaved annotated 
 almanacs, a favorite mode of diary, of the Eastern 
 clergyman, of which some curious specimens are 
 preserved. He had, too, his manuscript books, 
 Quotidiana Miscellanea, &c, for extracts from the 
 authors he read. The first entry on the first 
 page of these is significant of his tastes thus 
 early forming, from Eckard's Roman History: — 
 "there are required so many qualifications and 
 accomplishments in an historian, and so much 
 care and nioeness in writing an history, that some 
 have reckoned it one of the most difficult labors 
 human nature is capable of." He left Harvard 
 with the class of 1702, and became, like so many 
 others, a schoolmaster. After four years in this 
 employment, and when he had fully established 
 his resolution, he was ordained as a preacher. 
 He married Ruth Eliot, of Boston, and became 
 pastor of the church in Dover, New Hampshire, 
 in 1767, where he passed twenty years. His his- 
 torical tastes soon developed themselves ; but they 
 were somewhat interrupted by the openingscenes 
 of the Revolution, in which Belknap bore the 
 part of a good Whig, counselling the people by 
 his pen. He was chosen chaplain to the troops 
 of New Hampshire at Cambridge, but declined 
 the appointment. In 1787 he left Dover for the 
 charge of the Federal Street Church in Boston, a 
 position which he held till his death, caused sud- 
 denly by paralysis, June 20, 1798. He had him- 
 self in some lines of poetry, found among his 
 papers, invoked a speedy departure. 
 
 When faith and patience, hope and love, 
 Have made us meet for heaven above, 
 How blest the privilege to rise ' 
 Snatched in a moment to the skies! 
 Unconscious, to resign our breath, 
 Nor taste the bitterness of death. 
 Such be my lot, Lord, if thou please, 
 To die in silence and at ease. 
 When thou dost know that I'm prepared, 
 O seize me quick to my reward. 
 But if thy wisdom sees it best 
 To turn thine ear from this request — 
 If sickness be the appointed way, 
 To waste this frame of human clay ; 
 If, "Worn with grief and racked with pain, 
 This earth must turn to earth again ; 
 Then let thine angels round me stand — 
 Support me by thy powerful hand; 
 Let not my faith or patience move, 
 Nor aught abate my hope or love ; 
 But brighter may my graces shine, 
 Till they're absorbed in light divine. 
 
 His distinct historical labors commenced with 
 his residence in New Hampshire, where he en- 
 gaged in the study and preparation of manu- 
 scripts, using great diligence in his pioneer work. 
 Before the Revolution, Belknap had studied his 
 subject in the steeple of the Old South Church, 
 among the books collected by his pastor, Mr. 
 Prince. In the preface to his first volume, Belk- 
 nap suggests a public repository for MSS., under 
 proper regulations. This first volume of his His- 
 ■ tory of New Hampshire appeared at Philadelphia 
 in 1784, under the superintendence of Ebenezer 
 Hazard, the Postmaster-General, and compiler of 
 the State Papers. The second appeared at Bos- 
 
 ton in 1791, and the third in the same city, in the 
 following year. To assist him in the work, which 
 at the time of the publication of the last volume 
 had fallen short of the actual expenses, the Legis- 
 lature of New Hampshire granted him fifty 
 pounds. Its merits at the present day would 
 secure it a better reception. The first volume 
 comprehends the events of one complete century, 
 from the discovery of the river Pascataqua; the 
 second, seventy-five years, from 1715; the third 
 is occupied with a geographical description of the 
 state ; with sketches of its natural history, pro- 
 ductions, improvements, and present state of 
 society and manners, laws and government. 
 
 The candor and agreeable style of this work 
 are no less remarkable than its historical tact 
 and fidelity. It has long ranked at the head of 
 the local state histories of the country. The 
 author had everything to acquire and arrange. 
 He overcame these difficulties, and seized his sub- 
 ject with the grasp of an earnest thinker and ac- 
 complished writer. The interesting chapters in 
 the third volume on physical geography and 
 natural history show that he took no narrow view 
 of the relations of his subject. 
 
 On the completion of this work, an editor of a 
 newspaper in Keene, N.H., made the modest an- 
 nouncement to his readers that "to render his 
 paper as useful and entertaining as possible, ho 
 proposed to commence upon the Rev. Mr. Belk- 
 nap's late History of New Hampshire, and con- 
 tinue a small part of the same weekly. As every 
 member of the community is equally interested in 
 this much-approved History, the editor flatters 
 himself that the above attempt to please will 
 meet with the approbation of his generous patrons. 
 This information is given to accommodate those 
 who have a desire of becoming subscribers for the 
 Cheshire Advertiser, that they may apply in 
 season, and not be disappointed of the first part 
 of this valuable History." To which cool propo- 
 sition, when the author was informed of it by his 
 friend, Isaiah Thomas, he replied : " As I am par- 
 ticularly interested in the success of that literary 
 adventure, I beg you would set me down as a 
 subscriber for the Cheshire Advertiser for one 
 year, to commence from the first portion of the 
 said History which you may reprint, and send the 
 papers to me regularly by the post. If you are 
 desirous of reprinting the certificate from the 
 Clerk of the Federal Court, which secures the 
 copyright of the said History to me and my heirs, 
 agreeably to the laws of the United States, be so 
 good as to let me know it, and I will seud you an 
 authenticated copy." 
 
 In 1790, Belknap projected the Massachusetts 
 Historical Society, which became, long since an 
 established precedent for similar organizations 
 throughout the country. At the request of this 
 body he delivered, Oct. 23, 1792, a centennial 
 Discourse intended to commemorate the Discovery 
 of America by Christopher Columbus, on the 
 completion of the third century since that event. 
 Four dissertations are added on points raised by 
 the address. The whole is well filled with in- 
 genious philosophical suggestions. 
 
 In the same year with this address appeared in 
 successive numbers of the Columbian Magazine, 
 a production entitled The Foresters, an. American 
 tale, being a sequel to the history of John Bull' 
 
JEREMY BELKNAP. 
 
 255 
 
 the Clothier, in a series of letters to a friend. 
 This was written by Dr. Belknap. The papers 
 were collected in a volume, and printed again 
 with two additional letters, continuing the story, 
 in 1796. 
 
 '£su-e-^i^-' 
 
 The Foresters is an apologue, written after the 
 manner of Arbuthnot's John Bull, in which the 
 leading states and interests of the American 
 continent are represented under catch-words of 
 easy interpretation. The Foresters themselves 
 are the people of the United States; Onontio is 
 Canada; Robert Lumber, New Hampshire; John 
 Codline, Massachusetts; Peter Bull-Frog, New 
 York ; Walter Pipeweed, Virginia ; his grand- 
 soil, General Washington ; Charles Indigo, South 
 Carolina ; Ethan Greenwood, Vermont. The 
 several settlements of the country are related in 
 neatly turned phrase, together with the incidents 
 of the Revolution and the circumstances out of 
 which it arose, followed by a graphic picture of 
 the new constitution, and the attempt of Genet at 
 French interference. There is much sly humor 
 in this book, hit off in a neat quiet style.* 
 
 In 1793 he published anonymously a Life of 
 Watts, in connexion with Kippis's Life of Dod- 
 dridge. In the conclusion of this life he states 
 what he interpreted as the views of Watts in 
 relation to the Trinity. This portion has been 
 added by his grand-daughter to the judicious 
 memoir she has published of Belknap.f 
 
 * This production was pleasantly revived on a late occasion 
 bv the poet Bryant, at the semi-centennial celebration of the 
 New York Historical Society. In a speech at the dinner at 
 the Astor House, Nov. 20, 1854, he spoke of the Foresters, 
 l -a work which sought to embellish our history with the 
 charms of wit and humor," in connexion witii the American 
 Biography, which he recollected as amongst his earliest read- 
 ing and assigned to Belknap " the high merit of being the lirst 
 to make American history attractive." "Sixty-two years 
 ago" Mr. Bryant continued, "he published the Foresters, 
 long a favorite at New England firesides." 
 
 + Life of Jeremy Belknap, D.D., the Historian of New 
 
 In 1794 Belknap published the first volume of 
 a series of American biographical sketches — An 
 Historical account of those persons who have been 
 distinguished in America as Adventurer's, States- 
 men, Philosopihers, Divines, Warriors, Authors, 
 and other remarkable characters, comprehending 
 a recital of the events connected with their lives 
 and actions. 
 
 The second volume of the Biographies was 
 completed and in press at the time of the 
 author's death. 
 
 The next year he issued a Collection of Psalms 
 and Hymns, which was in use for a while with 
 the New England Congregational churches. 
 Several of these were written by himself. 
 
 In 1795 appeared Dr. Belknap's Dissertations 
 on the Character, Death, and Resurrection of 
 Jesus Christ, and the Evidence of his Gospel, 
 with Remarks on some sentiments advanced in a 
 book entitled " The Age of Reason.' 1 '' 
 
 As an anecdote of Dr. Belknap's historical ac- 
 curacy, it may be mentioned, that the year be- 
 fore his death he sailed from New Bedford to 
 ascertain the island discovered by Gosnold in 
 1G02, which he had stated incorrectly in the 
 first volume of his Biographies. Finding the 
 exact locality on the island of Cuttyhunk, he re- 
 wrote the life for the second volume, and intro- 
 duced a description of the spot. 
 
 THE OLD CONFEDERATION — FROM TITE FORESTERS. 
 
 When the foresters had broken their connexion 
 with Bull, it was uncertain what connexions they 
 might form abroad, but it was judged expedient for 
 them to be united among themselves, that no one 
 family should connect itself in trade with any mer- 
 chant, or factor, without the consent of the others. 
 In short, it became necessary for them to enter into 
 a partnership for their mutual interest and conve- 
 nience. To do this was a nice point, and required 
 much delicacy. It was to them a new subject, and 
 they had an untrodden path before them. After 
 much consultation and inquiry, their ingenuity sug- 
 gested to them the idea of an original social compact. 
 " Why should we (said they) look abroad for prece- 
 dents, when we have enough among ourselves ? 
 See the beavers in our own brooks and meadows, 
 how they work in complete partnership, each family 
 has its own cell, and a number of cells arc placed in 
 one pond. They carry on their operations with 
 peace and unanimity, without even the appearance 
 of a master. Here is a perfect republic, a complete 
 equality, a striking example of order without subor- 
 dination, of liberty without jealousy, of industry 
 without coercion, of economy without parsimony, 
 of sagacity without overbearing influence. Every 
 one knows his own business and does it, their labour 
 goes on with regularity and decency; their united 
 eii'orts serve the common cause, and the interest of 
 every one is involved in that of the whole. Let us 
 go and do likewise." The hint took, and a plan of 
 confederation, as it was called, was drawn up on 
 principles of the purest equality; each family re- 
 taining the entire control of its own domestic con- 
 cerns, without any interference of the others, and 
 agreeing to contribute voluntarily its proportion of 
 labour and money to support the common interest. 
 
 This was, in theory, a very pretty device, exactly 
 suited to a set of people who thought themselves 
 
 Hampshire, with selections from his correspondence and other 
 1 writings. Collected and arranged by his grand-daughter. 
 Harper & Brothers. 1S47. 
 
256 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 completely virtuous. But as it- often happens that 
 great ingenuity exists without much judgment or 
 policy, so it proved here. These foresters did not 
 consider that their intellects were not, like those of 
 the beavers, confined to a few particular objects; 
 that they were not, like the beavers, void of passions 
 and prejudices, void of ambition, jealousy, avarice, 
 and self-interest. With all the infirmities of hu- 
 manity, they were expecting to establish a commu- 
 nity on a plan similar to that in which no such 
 deformities can possibly find admittance. 
 
 Though for a while, and during the period of the 
 law-suit, when common danger impelled . them to 
 keep themselves close together, this plan answered 
 the end. better tnan none: yet in fact the notion of 
 independence 'had so intoxicated their minds, that 
 having cast off their dependence on Mr. Bull, they 
 thought themselves independent of all the world 
 beside. When they had got entirely clear of the 
 controversy with him, they were in the condition of 
 a young heir just come of age, who feels proud, of 
 his freedom, and thinks he has a right to act without 
 control. Each family felt its own importance, and 
 expected a degree of respect from the others, in pro- 
 portion to its numbers, its property, its exertions, its 
 antiquity, and other trifling considerations, which 
 ought never to have had any place in a partnership 
 of complete equality; and in consequence of this 
 intoxicating idea of independence, each family 
 claimed the right of giving or withholding its con- 
 sent to what was proposed by any or all of the 
 others. 
 
 In the club room, among a number of ingenious 
 devices, there was a clock, of a most curious and in- 
 tricate construction, by which all the common con- 
 cerns of the partnership were to be regulated. It 
 had one bell, on which thirteen distinct hummers 
 struck the hours. Each hammer was moved by in- 
 dependent wheels and weights, each set of wheels 
 and weights was inclosed in a separate ease, the key 
 of which was kept, not as it ought to have been, by 
 the person who represented the family at club, but 
 in each mansion house ; and every family claimed a 
 right either to keep the key at home or send it to 
 club, when and by whom they pleased. Kow as 
 this clock, like all other automatons, needed fre- 
 quently to be wound up, to be oiled and cleaned, a 
 very nice and particular adjustment of circum- 
 stances was necessary to preserve the regularity of 
 its motions, and make the hammers perform their 
 functions with propriety. Sometimes one or two 
 of the hammers would be out of order, ami when it 
 came to the turn of one to strike it would be silent; 
 then there must be a running or sending home for 
 the key, and the houses being at a considerable dis- 
 tance, much time was spent in waiting Sometimes 
 the messenger arrived at an unseasonable hour, when 
 the family was asleep, or abroad in the fields, and 
 it would take up a considerable time to collect them, 
 and lay the case before them, that they might de- 
 liberate and determine whether the key should be 
 sent or not ; and before this could be done, the clock 
 would get more out of order. By this means, the 
 club was frequently perplexed; they knew neither 
 the hour of the day, nor the day of the month ; 
 they could not date their letters, nor adjust their 
 books, nor do business with any regularity. 
 
 Besides this, there was another inconvenience. 
 For though they had a strong-box, yet it was filled 
 with nothing but bills of parcels, and accounts pre- 
 sented for payment, contracts of loans, and inden- 
 tures for services. No money could be had from 
 any of the families, but by their own voluntary 
 consent; and to gain this consent there was great 
 difficulty. Some had advanced what they supposed 
 
 to be more than their proportion ; others had paid 
 less. The former would give no more, till the latter 
 had made up their quotas, and there was no autho- 
 rity which could call any one to account, or make 
 him do his duty. Their whole estates were morl^ 
 gaged for the money which they had borrowed of 
 Mr. Lewis and Mr. Frog; and yet they could carry 
 on no business in partnership. In fact they had 
 formed such an unheard of kind of partnership, 
 that though they could run themselves in debt, yet 
 they could' not oblige one another to raise any money 
 to 'discharge their debts. 
 
 Each family, however, carried on a separate trade, 
 and the5 T contrived to undersell each other, both at 
 home and at market. Each family also had a sepa- 
 rate debt, whichsome were providing means to dis- 
 charge, and others neglected. In one or two of the 
 families they went to loggerheads among themselves. 
 John Codlme's family was, for several days, a scene 
 of confusion and disorder; nothing was seen or 
 heard, but cursing and calling names, kicking shins 
 aud pulling noses. John at first tried to silence 
 them by gentle means, but finding these ineffectual, 
 he at length drew his hanger, and swore he would 
 cut off the ears of the first that should dare to make 
 any more noise. This threatening drove two or 
 three turbulent fellows out of doors, after which the 
 house was tolerably quiet. Something of the same 
 kind happened in Robert Lumber's family, but he 
 made so good a use of his fist as quelled the disturb- 
 ance at once. 
 
 In the famity of Roger Carrier there seemed to 
 be a predominant lurch for knavery, for lie publicly 
 advertised that he was ready to pay his debts by 
 notes of hand, subject to a discount,-the amount of 
 which was indefinite, because continually increasing; 
 and that whoever did not take his pay, when thus 
 offered, might go without. The other families weie 
 alarmed at his conduct ; but had no power to oblige 
 him to deal honestly, and he carried his roguery so 
 far as to bid them all defiance. 
 
 In this state of debility and distraction, it became 
 necessary to consult on some measures for a better 
 plan of union. They began to be convinced that 
 they were not beavers, nor capable of subsisting in 
 such a state of society as had been' adopted from 
 them. Something more energetic was wanted to 
 compel the lazy, to cheek the knavish, to direct the 
 industrious, and to keep the honest from being im- 
 posed upon. It had been often in contemplation to 
 amend the mode of partnership; but now the disor- 
 ders in some of the families became so alarming, 
 that though they had been quelled for the present, 
 it was uncertain whether they would not break out 
 again, especially as one whole family seemed deter- 
 mined openly to patronize roguery. These conside- 
 rations served to hasten the change which had been 
 contemplated. It was accordingly moved in the 
 club, that each family should appoint one or more 
 persons to meet together and consult upon some al- 
 terations and improvements in the partnership. 
 
 TUF. SEW CONSTITUTION. 
 
 The professed design of the meeting was to reform 
 and amend the plan ; but in fact when they came to 
 examine it, they found themselves obliged to pass 
 the same sentence on it that was once delivered con- 
 cerning the famous poet Alexander Pope, whose 
 usual ejaculation was God mend me ! " Mend you," 
 said a hackney coachman (looking with contempt on 
 his dwarfish form and hump back), " it would not be 
 half so much trouble to make a new one." 
 
 A newonewas accordingly entered upon, and the 
 fundamental principle of it was, not to suppose men 
 as good as they ought to be, but to take them as 
 
JEREMY BELKNAP. 
 
 257 
 
 tliey are. "Tt is true," said tliey, " that all men are 
 naturally tree and equal ; it is a very good idea, 
 and ought to be understood in every contract and 
 partnership -which can be formed ; it may serve as 
 a cheek upon ambition and other human passions, 
 and put people in mind that they may some time or 
 other be called to account by their equals. But it 
 is as true that this equality is destroyed by a thou- 
 sand causes which exist in nature and in society. 
 It is true that all beasts, birds, and fishes are natu- 
 rally free and equal in some respects, but yet we 
 find them unequal in other respects, and one be- 
 comes the prey of another. There is, and always 
 will be, a superiority and an inferiority, in spite of 
 all the systems of metaphysics that ever existed. 
 How can you prevent one man from being stronger, 
 or wiser, or richer than another? and will not the 
 strong overcome the weak? will not the cunning 
 circumvent the foolish ? and will not the borrower 
 become servant to the lender ? Is not this noble, 
 free and independent creature man, necessarily sub- 
 ject to lords of his own species in every stage of his 
 existence? When a child, is he not under the com- 
 mand of his parents? Send him to school, place 
 him out as an apprentice, put him on board a ship, 
 enrol him in a company of militia, must he not be 
 subject to a master? Place him in any kind of so- 
 ciety whatever, and he lias wants to be supplied, 
 and passions to be subdued; his active powers need 
 to be directed, and his extravagances to be con- 
 trolled, and if he will not do it himself, somebody 
 must do it for him. Self-government is indeed the 
 most perfect form of government in the world ; but 
 if men will not govern themselves, they must have 
 some governors appointed over them, who will keep 
 them in order, and make them do their duty. Now 
 if there is in fact such an inequality existing among 
 us, why should we act as if no such thing existed? 
 We have tried the braver scheme of partnership long 
 enough, and find it will not do. Let us then adopt 
 the practice of another kind of industrious animals 
 which we have among us — Let us imitate the bees, 
 who are governed by one supreme head, and, under 
 that direction, conduct their whole economy with 
 perfect order and regularity." 
 
 )n this principle tliey drew up an entire new 
 plan, in which there was one chief steward, who 
 was to manage their united interest, and be respon- 
 sible to the whole for his conduct. He was to have 
 a kind of council to advise and direct him, and seve- 
 ral inferior officers to assist him, as there might be 
 • o.'cas;on; and a certain contribution was to be 
 levied ou the trade, or on the estates of the whole, 
 which was to make a common stock for the support 
 of the common interest, and they were to erect a 
 tribunal among themselves, which should decide and 
 determine all differences. If nine of the families 
 should agree to this plan, it was to take place ; and 
 Ih ■ othcis might or might not adopt it ; but if any 
 0.1C should finally refuse, or if any should adopt it 
 and afterward fill from it, he was to be looked upon 
 as an outcast, and no person was to have any con- 
 nexion with him. 
 
 The meeting having continued a long time, every- 
 body became extremely anxious to know what they 
 were about ; the doors were kept shut, and no per- 
 son whatever was let into the secret till the whole 
 was completed. A copy was then sent to each 
 family, for them to consider at their leisure. 
 
 Though curiosity was now gratified, yet anxiety 
 was not relaxed. The new plan of partnership 
 went by the name of the fiddle ; those who were in 
 favour of it called themselves fiddlers, and those 
 who opposed it were styled antifiddlers. The former 
 said it was the best plan that human wisdom had 
 
 VOL. I.— IT 
 
 ever contrived. The latter imagined it "pregnant 
 with mischief." The former compared it to a strong 
 fence about a rich field of wheat The latter com- 
 pared it to the whale that swallowed up Jonah. 
 
 In each family a consultation was held on the 
 question, Whether it should be adopted or not? and 
 liberty was given for every one to speak his mind 
 with the utmost freedom. The objections, answers, 
 replies, rejoinders, and rebutters, which were pre* 
 duced on this occasion, would make a curious collec- 
 tion, and form an important page in the history of 
 man. The fiddlers were extremely fond of having 
 it examined, because they said it was like a rich 
 piece of plate, which the more it be rubbed shines 
 the brighter. The antifiddlers said it was like a 
 worm-eaten bottom of a ship, the defects of which 
 would more evidently appear, the more it was 
 ripped to pieces; they were therefore for rejecting 
 it at once, without any examination at all. 
 
 When they were urged to point out its defects, 
 they would say, " It is dangerous to put so much 
 power into the hands of any man, or set of men, 
 lest they should abuse it. Our liberty and property 
 will be safe whilst we keep them ourselves, but 
 when we have onee parted with them, we may never 
 be able to get them back again." 
 
 If the plan was compared to a house, then the 
 objection would be made against building it too high, 
 lest the wind should blow it down. How shall we 
 guard it against fire? how shall we secure it against 
 robbers? and how shall we keep out rats and mice? 
 
 If it was likened to a ship, then it would be asked, 
 how shall we guard it against leaking ? how shall 
 we prevent it from running on the rocks and quick- 
 sands? 
 
 Sometimes it would be compared to a clock, then 
 the question was, how shall we secure the pendulum, 
 the wheels and the balance from rust? who shall 
 keep the key, and who shall we trust to wind it up? 
 
 Sometimes it was represented by a purse, and 
 then it was said to be dangerous to let any one hold 
 the strings. Money is a tempting object, and the 
 best men are liable to be corrupted. 
 
 In short, the whole of the arguments against it 
 might be summed up in one word — jealousy ; 
 which is well known to be the highest degree of re- 
 publican virtue. 
 
 To show the futility of these arguments, it was 
 observed by the opposite party, that it was impossi- 
 ble to put it into any man's power to do you good, 
 without at the same time putting it into his power 
 to do you hurt. If you trust a barber to shave 
 your beard, you put it into his power to cut your 
 throat. If j'ou trust a baker to make your bread, 
 or a cook to dress your meat, you put it into the 
 power of each to poison you ; nay, if you venture 
 to lie in the same bed with your wife, you put it 
 into her power to choak you when you are asleep. 
 Shall we therefore let our beards grow till they are 
 long enough to put into our pockets, because we are 
 afraid of the barber? shall we starve ourselves be- 
 cause the baker and the cook map poison us? and 
 snail we be afraid to go to bed with our wives? 
 Fie, fie, gentlemen, do not indulge such whims: Be 
 careful in the choice of your barbel's, your bakers, 
 your cooks, and your wives ; pay them well, and 
 treat them well, and make it their interest, to treat 
 you well, and you need not fear them. 
 
 After much debate and discussion, some of the 
 families adopted it without exception, but in others, 
 the opposition was so strong that it could not be 
 made to pass, but by the help of certain amendments, 
 which were proposed; and of these amendments 
 every family which thought proper to make any, 
 made as many as they pleased. The new plan with. 
 
258 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 its appendage of amendments, cut such a grotesque 
 figure, that a certain wng in one of the families, like 
 Jotham, the son of Gideon, ridiculed it in the fol- 
 lowing fable: 
 
 : ' A certain man hired a taylor to make him a pair 
 of small clothes ; the taylor measured him and made 
 the garment. When he had brought it home, the 
 man turned and twisted and viewed it on all sides ; 
 it is too small here, said he, and wants to be let out; 
 it is too big hero, and wants to be taken in ; I am 
 afraid there will be a hole here, and you must put 
 on a patch ; this button is not strong enough, you 
 must set on another. He was ; ^oing on in this man- 
 ner, when his wife overhearing him, said, have you 
 put on the small clothes, my dear ? No, 6aid he. 
 How then, replied she, can you possibly tell whether 
 they will fit you or not ? If I had made such objec- 
 tions to a gown or a pair of stays before I had put 
 them on, how would you have laughed at my female 
 wisdom ? The man took his wife's advice, and 
 3aved the taylor a deal of trouble." 
 
 In like manner the new plan of partnership was 
 tried on, and was found to fit very well. The 
 amendments were thrown by, for future considera- 
 tion ; some of them have been since adopted, but 
 \hey are so few and so trifling, as to make no essen- 
 tial difference. 
 
 ELIJAH FITCH. 
 
 Elijah Pitch was born in 1745. He was edu- 
 cated at Yale, and received an honorary degree 
 of A.M., from Harvard, in 1770. He became a 
 clergyman at Hopkinton, Massachusetts, where 
 he died, as we learn from a notice accompanying 
 his poems, " on the sixteenth of December, 1788, 
 in the forty-third year of his age, and seventeenth 
 of his ministry." He wrote The Beauties of 
 Feliijion, a poem addressed to youth, in five 
 books, and a short poem entitled The Choice, 
 which were published at Providence in 1789. 
 
 The objects of the principal poem are concisely 
 stated in the "Advertisement of the Author." 
 " The design of these Essays is to paint religion in 
 her native beauties. They are principally in- 
 tended for youth, to give them just views of re- 
 ligion, and to persuade them to love and practise 
 it. The subject required me to stud}- perspicuity 
 more than elegance, and truth more than poetical 
 embellishments." 
 
 In the first three books the desires of the soul, 
 the sufficiency of the Gospel to supply its long- 
 ing, the goodness of God in the material creation, 
 and the need of religion to hallow it to our use, 
 the happiness of a holy life, the evils produced 
 by sin, especially war, are enforced, with oc- 
 casional narrative episodes. Book IV. contains 
 the soliloquy of an infidel, who, " after a debauch, 
 awakes with a resolution to pursue nothing but 
 the pleasures of the world." He is unable to 
 escape the rebukes of conscience, and expires in 
 misery. An animated description then follows 
 of the beauty and variety of nature, and the 
 sufficiency of harmless pleasures to secure hap- 
 piness. In the last book the "soliloquy of a 
 believer" is given, in which the happiness of a 
 holy life of devout meditation and participation 
 in the ordinances of public worship is dwelt upon. 
 
 THE TRUE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 See now the man of wond'rous birth, 
 Lorn from above, but dwells on earth, 
 Whose heart religion fills: 
 
 By wisdom guided in his way, 
 On wings of faith he mounts to-day 
 Towards everlasting hills. 
 
 Lord of himself, his noble mind, 
 From fetters free and unconfined, 
 
 A flight sublime maintains ; 
 But little his concern to know, 
 "What's done by mortals here below, 
 
 Who drag about their chains. 
 
 Pleased with himself and satisfied, 
 While streams of pleasure gently glide 
 
 From fountain-head on high; 
 Possesses all beneath the sun, 
 And smiles to see how mortals run, 
 
 To catch those things which fly. 
 
 Pleased with the present, he enjoys 
 Himself at ease, nor wants those toys 
 
 Which little minds call great ; 
 Crowns, riches, honours, and such things, 
 Which please the vulgar, yea and kings, 
 
 He treads beneath his feet. 
 
 In love with that fair Goddess bright, 
 Who sits enthroned in realms of light, 
 
 No meaner flame can burn; 
 'Tis she that leads to Jesus' arms, 
 And gives possession of bis charms; 
 
 Christ and religion's one. 
 
 Love this fair Goddess ; and serene 
 
 She'll make you pass thro' life's dark scene, 
 
 And gild your passing day : 
 Grace your last moments with her light, 
 Then waft your snul to regions bright, 
 
 To join angelie lays. 
 
 THE CHOICE. 
 
 Would Heaven's high sov'reign condescend 
 
 To crown my wish, and let me spend 
 
 The days on earth he's pleased to give, 
 
 In that fair place I'd choose to live, 
 
 Where upon a rising ground, 
 
 A little distance from the town, 
 
 Far beyond the noisy rout 
 
 Of carts and waggons driv'n about. 
 
 Or the more confounded din 
 
 Of men contending for a pin : 
 
 Where Aurora spreads her light 
 
 First in the morn, and last at night ; 
 
 Where sweet Zephyr's breath is pure, 
 
 Which all diseases helps to cure, 
 
 Fresh at ev'ry hour should come, 
 
 Wafting spices, myrrh, and gum ; 
 
 And at eve more fragrant grows, 
 
 Like the sweet-briar and the rose. 
 
 A placid stream with gentle tide, 
 
 Meand'ring thro' a mead, should glide, 
 
 Enamel'd o'er with every hue, 
 
 Which on the earth yet ever grew, 
 
 And lofty pine and oak in rows, 
 
 And the elm with careless boughs, 
 
 On each side should raise their head, 
 
 Shading fishes in their bed. 
 
 To the east this stream should run, 
 
 As emulous to meet the sun, 
 
 Whose beams, reflected from that glass. 
 
 Make double morn my life compass; 
 
 While pleasure-boats, with silken sails, 
 
 And streamers gay, delight the vales. 
 
 Men of all professions there 
 
 Should issue forth to take the air; 
 
 Two or three in ev'ry line, 
 
 Should be invited to my wine: 
 
 Such whose tempers were serene, 
 
 And had with books familiar been. 
 
LINDLEY MURRAY. 
 
 259 
 
 A garden interspersed with trees, 
 Waving to the gentle breeze, 
 Laden with all kinds of fruit 
 Which the climate e'er could suit: 
 Peaches, apples, plums and chenis, 
 Pears and apricots, with berries, 
 Creeping latent through the grass 
 All other pleasure should surpass, 
 Surprising oft the eye with joy, 
 And to the grateful touch not coy. 
 A purling rill, with winding course, 
 Now gentle, and then sounding hoarse, 
 Thro' arbours and by pleasant walks, 
 Where flowers should grow on all their stalks, 
 The pink, and rose, and daffodil, 
 Lady's delight, which crowns the hill, 
 Narcissus fair, with tulip gay, 
 Which finely dress themselves in May. 
 With all the summer's shining train, 
 Which breathe more fragrant for the rain, 
 And afford a sweet repast 
 For busy bees which love their taste; 
 There humming-birds, with plumage gay, 
 Shining bright as flnw'rs in May, 
 Around my head should sprightly play ; 
 On nimble wings they seem to dance, 
 Suspended still without advance, 
 And then away as swift as light, 
 So sudden that they 'scape the sight ; 
 Their plumes of scarlet, gold and green, 
 A lively hue as e'er was seen ; 
 These o'er my flow'rs should rove at plensir ', 
 Partake the joy, not spoil the treasure, 
 But with their little tube-like bill 
 From op'ning blossoms drink their fill: 
 And on farina fine they feed, 
 Which fully satisfies their need. 
 
 Frequent here would I resort, 
 To enjoy the blissful sport, 
 And to view with pleasing eye 
 All that blooms beneath the sky; 
 See where the primrose dips her bill 
 Amo.ig the dew-drops on the hill, 
 Anil where the lily hangs her head 
 O'er the violet's purple bed ; 
 All bestrew'd with green and gold, 
 Where pretty birds sweet dalliance hoM. 
 There the lark his mate invites 
 To pass with him the summer nights, 
 And early in the morn awake. 
 Together the first dawn partake, 
 And on their silver pinions rise, 
 And sing their mattms to the skies ; 
 With sweetest notes they T fill the air, 
 And call forth shepherds to their care. 
 I'd hear the bleating flocks of sheep, 
 When the dawn begins to peep, 
 And from my couch would rise alert, 
 To join aird share the sweet concert; 
 Hear the dulcet harmony 
 Warble sweet from ev'ry tree, 
 From the meads and from the vales, 
 On the hills and in the dales; 
 Various notes of flocks and herds, 
 Mingling with the singing birds, 
 Should echo fast from hill to hill, 
 Till ev'ry part of air they fill. 
 
 I'd have a little grove fast by, 
 There to repair in milder sky • 
 My morn and ev'uing walk should be, 
 To view the birds perch'd on the tree, 
 Their shiny glossy plumes would fill 
 My ravish'd eye with pleasure still. 
 
 There the linnet, thrush, and quail, 
 There the mock-bird, feme and male, 
 There the sparrow, with robin-hood, 
 And ev'ry bird that loves the wood, 
 Should live at ease, secure from fear, 
 No cruel fowler should come near; 
 The whip-poor-will should cheer the night 
 With her sweet notes, which sleep invite; 
 About my farm tame fowls should rove, 
 Geese and turkeys, ducks and dove; 
 Nor would I want the guinea-hen, 
 Which imitates the chatt'ring wren ; 
 And the proud cock, who struts and crows 
 Defiance to his neighb'ring foes. 
 Martins and swallows, chatt'ring sweet, 
 In friendship round my house should meet; 
 The peacock, with majestic mien, 
 And richest plumes, should oft be seen, 
 Spreading his waving glories high, 
 With dazzling lustre charm the eye. 
 
 Nor would I want those joys refin'd, 
 With holy wedlock which are join'd; 
 For Hymen's mystic knot unites 
 Sublimest joys and sweet delights. 
 
 With one fair iu love I'd join, 
 Whose pleasing words should cheer like wine; 
 Whose soul to mine so near was grown, 
 No striking difference could be known, 
 But blended in sweet bands of love, 
 In concert both should always move, 
 And dimpled smiles, with mutual glance, 
 Should joys reciprocal advance. 
 
 To crown the whole, and give a relish 
 
 To all the pleasures life embellish, 
 
 On holy days I would not lose 
 
 The pleasure which from worship flows; 
 
 And near my house should be the seat 
 
 Where those who love to praise should meet, 
 
 To tread the courts of God most high, 
 
 And hear his message from the sky, 
 
 From one who knows how to dispense 
 
 The joyful truths sent down from thence, 
 
 And join with those whose souls were graced 
 
 With love, and truth, and righteousness; 
 
 To pray and praise, adore and sing 
 
 Loud anthems to th' eternal King ; 
 
 With joy my r heart should more dilate, 
 
 Than all the favours of the great. 
 
 But give me such a pleasing spot, 
 
 And I'll not envy kings their court. 
 
 LINDLEY MITERAY. 
 The reader who takes up the autobiography of 
 Lindley Murray with no other previous prepara- 
 tion than his early schoolboy recollections of the 
 grammar, will have a sensation as agreeable as mi- 
 expected. It is likemeeting the schoolmaster after 
 we have grown up, and finding him a pleasant 
 courteous gentleman instead of the monster we 
 had, so often vowed to thrash on arriving at the 
 vigor of manhood prerequisite for the achieve- 
 ment. 
 
 Lindley Murray made a dolorous entrance into 
 life : for six months after his birth, in 1745, he 
 was, says the editor of his autobiography, "al- 
 most perpetually crying." After that time he 
 grew healthier. In 1753, he removed with his 
 parents from Swetara, near Lancaster, Pa., to the 
 city of New York. After receiving the rudiments 
 of an English education he was placed in the 
 counting-house of his father, a prosperous mer- 
 chant, who was naturally desirous that his son 
 
260 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 
 ^n 
 
 should step into the opening he had provided for 
 him. This, however, did not suit the son's wishes, 
 which were bent upon the law. He ascribes his 
 dislike to his father's calling to the strictness of 
 the rule to which that parent subjected him, a 
 strictness which led to an outbreak on the son's 
 part, the only ripple in the placid stream of his 
 existence. 
 
 I have sometimes hesitated, respecting the pro- 
 priety of communicating this little piece of my his- 
 tory. But as it is intimately connected with events 
 of this period, and contains some traits of disposition 
 and character in early life, I have at length conclud- 
 ed to relinquish my scruples on this subject. The 
 following is the occurrence to which I allude. 
 
 Though my father, as the events already mention- 
 ed demonstrate, had an earnest desire to promote 
 my interest and happiness, yet lie appeared to me, 
 in some respects, and on some occasions, rather too 
 rigorous. Among other regulations, lie had, with 
 true parental prudence, given me general directions 
 not to leave the house, in an evening, without pre- 
 viously obtaining his approbation. I believe that 
 his permission was generally and readily procured. 
 But a particular instance occurred, in which, on ac- 
 count of his absence, I could not apply to him. I 
 was invited by an uncle to spend the evening with 
 him; and trusting to this circumstance, and to the 
 respectability of my company, I ventured to break 
 the letter, though I thought not the spirit, of the in- 
 junction which had been laid upon me. The next 
 morning, I was taken by my father into a private 
 apartment, and remonstrated with for my disobedi- 
 ence. In vain were my apologies. Nothing that I 
 could offer, was considered as an extenuation of mv 
 having broken a plain ai:d positive command. In 
 short, I received a very severe chastisement; and 
 was threatened with a repetition of it, for every 
 similar offence. Being a lad of some spirit, I felt 
 very indignant at such treatment, under circum- 
 stances which, as I conceived, admitted of so much 
 alleviation. I could not bear it ; 1 resolved to leave 
 my father's house, and seek a distant country, what 
 I conceived to be an asylum, or a better fortune. 
 Young and ardent, I did not want confidence in my 
 own powers: and I presumed that, with health and 
 
 strength which I possessed in a superior degree, I 
 | could support myself, and make my way happily 
 ■ through life. 1 meditated on my plan ; and came to 
 the resolution of taking my books and all my pro- 
 perty with me, to a town in the interior of the coun- 
 try, where 1 had understood there was an excellent 
 seminary, kept by a man of distinguished talents and 
 learning. Here I purposed to remain, till I had 
 learned the French language, which I thought would 
 be of great use to me ; and till I had acquired as 
 much other improvement as my funds would admit 
 With this stock of knowledge, I presumed that I 
 should set out in life under much greater advantages 
 than I should possess by entering immediately into 
 business, with my small portion of property, and great 
 inexperience. I was then about fourteen years of age. 
 My views being thus arranged, I procured a new suit 
 of clothes, entirely different from those which I had 
 been accustomed to wear, packed up my little all 
 and left the city, without exciting any suspicion of 
 my design, till it was too late to prevent its accom- 
 plishment. 
 
 In a short time 1 arrived at the place of destina- 
 tion. I settled myself immediately as a boarder in 
 the seminary, and commenced my studies. The 
 prospect which I entertained was so luminous and 
 cheering, that, on the whole, I did not regret the 
 part I had acted. Past recollections and future 
 hopes combined to animate me. The chief uneasi- 
 ness which I felt in my present situation, must have 
 arisen from the reflection of having lost the society 
 and attentions of a most affectionate mother, and of 
 having occasioned sorrow to her feeling mind. But 
 as I had passed the Rubicon, and believed I could 
 not be comfortable at home, I contented myself with 
 the thought, that the pursuit of the objects before 
 me was better calculated than any other, to produce 
 my happiness. In this quiet retreat, I had as much 
 enjoyment as my circumstances were adapted to 
 convey. The pleasure of study, and the glow of a 
 fond imagination, brightened the scenes around me. 
 And the consciousness of a state of freedom and in- 
 dependence undoubtedly contributed to augment 
 my gratifications, and to animate my youthful heart. 
 But my continuance in this delightful situation was 
 not of long duration. Circumstances of an appa- 
 rently trivial nature concurred to overturn the vi- 
 sionary fabric I had formed, and to bring me again 
 to the paternal roof. 
 
 I had a particular friend, a youth about my own 
 age, who resided at Philadelphia. I wished to pay 
 him a short visit, and then resume my studies. We 
 met according to appointment, at an inn on the road. 
 1 enjoyed his society, and communicated to him my 
 situation and views. But before I returned to my 
 retreat an occurrence took place which occasioned me 
 to go to Philadelphia. When I was about to leave 
 that city, as I passed through one of the streets, 
 I met a gentleman who hnd some time before dined 
 at my father's house. He expressed great plea- 
 sure on seeing me; and inquired wdicn I expected 
 to leave the city. I told him I was then on the 
 point of setting off. He thought the occasion very 
 fortunate for him. He had just been with a letter to 
 the post-office ; but found that he was too late. The 
 letter, he said, was of importance ; and he begged 
 that I would deliver it with my own hand, and as 
 as soon as I arrived at New-Y'ork, to the person for 
 whom it was directed. Surprised by the request, 
 and unwilling to state to him my situation, I en- 
 gaged to take good care of the letter. 
 
 My new residence was at Burlington, about twen- 
 ty miles from Philadelphia. I travelled towards it 
 rather pensive, and uncertain what plan to adopt 
 respecting the letter. I believe that I sometimes 
 
LINDLEY MURRAY. 
 
 2G1 
 
 thought of putting it into tlie post-office; sometimes, I 
 of hiring a person to deliver it. But the confidence j 
 which had been reposed in me; the importance of j 
 the trust; and my tacit engagement to deliver it 
 personally ; operated so powerfully on my mind, 
 that after 1 had rode a few miles, I determined, 
 Whatever risk and expense I might incur, to hire a 
 carriage for the purpose, to go to Mew York as 
 speedily as possible, deliver the letter, and return 
 immediately. My design, so far as it respected the j 
 charge of the letter, was completely accomplished. 
 I delivered it, according to the direction, and my j 
 own engagement. I was, however, obliged to re- 
 main in New York that night, as the packet boat, in j 
 which [ had crossed the bay, could not sail till next 
 morning. This was a mortifying circumstance, as I 
 wished to return very expeditiously. The delay 
 was, however, unavoidable. I put up at an inn, 
 near the wharf from which the packet was to sail in 
 the morning, and waited for that period with some 
 anxiety. 
 
 I thought I had conducted my business with so 
 much caution, that no one acquainted with me had 
 known of my being in the city. I had, however, 
 been noticed by some person who knew me; ami, in 
 the evening, to my great surprise, my uncle, whom 
 1 have mentioned before, paid me a visit. He treat- 
 ed me affectionately, and with much prudent atten- 
 tion: and, after some time, strenuously urged me to 
 go with him to my father's house; but I firmly re- 
 fused to comply with his request. At length he told 
 me, that my mother was greatly distressed on ac- 
 count of my absence; and that [ should be unkind 
 and undutiful, if 1 did not see her. This made a 
 strong impression upon me. I resolved, therefore, 
 to spend a short time with her, and then return to : 
 my lodgings. The meeting which 1 had with my 
 dear and tender parent was truly affecting to me. 
 Every thing that passed, evinced the great affection 
 she had for me, and the sorrow into which my de- 
 parture from home had plunged her. After 1 had 
 been some time in the house, my father unexpected- 
 ly came in : and my embarrassment, under these cir- 
 cumstances, may easily be conceived. It was, how- 
 ever, instantly removed, by his approaching me in 
 the most affectionate manner. He saluted me very | 
 tenderly; and expressed great satisfaction on seeing 
 me again. Every degree of resentment was imme- 
 diately dissipated. I felt myself happy, in pereeiv- j 
 ing the pleasure which my society could afford to 
 persons so intimately connected with me, and to ! 
 whom I was so much indebted. We spent the even- 
 ing together in love and harmony : and I abandoned 
 entirely, without a moment's hesitation, the idea of 
 leaving a house and family, which were now dearer 
 to me than ever. 
 
 He resumed his studies under the charge of a 
 private tutor, and his father at last granted him 
 permission to pursue the profession of his choice. 
 He was a fellow student with John Jay ; was ad- 
 mitted and commenced practice with good suc- 
 cess, which continued until the commencement of 
 the American Revolution, when finding nothing 
 to do in the courts, and wishing to recruit his 
 health, he retired with his wife (he had become 
 a married man some years hefore) to lslip, Long 
 Island. Here he remained four years, and then 
 becoming tired of country sports and comparative 
 inaction, returned to the city and entered into 
 mercantile business with such success, that at the 
 close of the war he found himself possessed of a 
 handsome property. He retired from business to 
 a beautiful country-scat, Hellevue, then a few 
 
 miles from the city, but long since included in its 
 limits, where he resided for three years. He was 
 then forced to leave this pleasant home in quest 
 of health. After passing some time with the Mo- 
 ravians at Bethlehem, he sailed to England by the 
 advice of his physicians, in order to avoid the 
 rigors of a New York winter. His sojourn was 
 not designed to be extended beyond a year; but, 
 though he earnestly desired to return to his na- 
 tive country, the state of his health would not 
 permit the change, and he passed the remainder 
 of his long life in England, at a small country-seat 
 in the vicinity of York. The disease with which 
 he was afflicted was a weakness in the lower 
 limbs, which precluded him from walking, and 
 after a time from any exercise whatever. His 
 Christian fortitude and cheerfulness, however, 
 enabled him to hear up against this calamity: 
 and just at the time when his life seemed about to 
 become useless to himself, it began to be pre-emi- 
 nently useful to others. With a well educated and 
 active mind, he naturally turned to literature as a 
 pursuit, and he has recorded the beneficial results 
 to his health which this course produced. 
 
 In the course of my literary labours, I found that 
 the mental exercise which accompanied them, was 
 not a little beneficial to my health. The motives 
 which excited me to write, and the objects which I 
 hoped to accomplish, were of a nature calculated to 
 cheer the mind, and to give the animal spirits a 
 salutary impulse. I am persuaded, that if I had 
 suffered my time to pass away, with little or no em- 
 ployment, my health would have been still more im- 
 paired, my spirits depressed, and perhaps my life 
 considerably shortened. I have therefore reason to 
 deem it a happiness, and a source of gratitude to Di- 
 vine Providence, that I was enabled, undermy bodily 
 weakness and confinement, to turn my attention to 
 the subjects which have, for so many years, afforded 
 me abundant occupation. I think it is incumbent 
 upon us, whatever may be our privations, to cast 
 our eyes around, and endeavour to discover, whe- 
 ther there are not some means yet left us, of doing 
 good to ourselves and to others; that our lights may, 
 in some degree, shine in every situation, and, if pos- 
 sible, be extinguished only with our lives. The 
 quantum of good which, under such circumstances, 
 we do, ought not to disturb or affect us. If we per- 
 form what we are able to perform, how little soever 
 it may be. it is enough ; it will be acceptable in the 
 sii^lit of Him, who knows how to estimate exactly all 
 our actions, by comparing them with our disposition 
 and ability. 
 
 His debut in literature was a modest one. He 
 prepared a work, The Power of Religion, on the 
 Mind, giving the testimony of many eminent men 
 '■ in recommendation of religion, as the great pro- 
 
 ' moter of our happiness here and hereafter," and 
 printed five hundred copies at his own expense, 
 which he presented anonymously to the principal 
 inhabitants of the vicinity. It was so well re- 
 
 | ceived that the author was induced to publish it 
 
 j in the ordinary maimer. It met with a large 
 sale ; other editions were called for, and on the 
 
 j issue of the sixth, he was induced to put his name 
 to the title-page. 
 
 His next work was the English Grammar. This 
 originated in the following manner. A school 
 had been established in York for the education of 
 
 . young ladies. Mr. Murray was desirous that the 
 
262 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 close study of the English language should form 
 a portion of the course pursued. As the young 
 teachers at first employed themselves needed in- 
 struction in this branch of knowledge, lie assem- 
 bled them in his own house for oral instruction. 
 They found themselves so much benefited by his 
 exertions, that they urged him to write an Eng- 
 lish grammar for the use of their pupils. This he 
 consented to do. The work was published in 
 1795, and was followed by a volume of exercises, 
 and a key explanatory of their construction. 
 These were published in 1797, and an abridgment, 
 by the author, of his grammar for the use of 
 schools appeared the same year. 
 
 The series was completed by the i-sue of a vo- 
 lume of extracts from the best authors of the lan- 
 guage, under the title of the English Hauler. Ik- 
 soon after published a volume of similar character 
 devoted to French literature. 
 
 The author's autobiography* closes with the 
 year 1809. It was continued by the Friend to 
 whom it was addressed, Elizabeth Frank, to the 
 close of his lung life of 81 years, February 10,1826. 
 His wife, to whom he was tenderly attached, sur- 
 vived him. They had no children. His will pro- 
 vided for the investment of Iris-property, after the 
 death of his wife, in the hands of trustees in the 
 city of New York, and the expenditure of its 
 yearly income 
 
 In liberating black people who may be held in 
 slavery, assisting them when freed, and giving their 
 descendants or the descendants of other black per- 
 sons, suitable education: in promoting the civiliza- 
 tion and instruction of the Indians of North America; 
 in the purchase and distribution of books tending to 
 promote piety and virtue, and the truth of Chris- 
 tianity, and it is his wish that " The Power of Reli- 
 gion on the ilind, in Retirement, Affliction, and at 
 the Approach of Death," with the author's latest cor- 
 rections and improvements, may form a considerable 
 part of those books ; and in assisting and relieving 
 the poor of any description, in any manner that may 
 be judged proper, especially those who are sober, 
 industrious, and of good character. 
 
 The lines " To my "Wife" have been generally 
 attributed to Lindley Murray. They were pub- 
 lished in the Southern Literary Messenger, for 
 October, 1836, from a manuscript copy, endorsed 
 Lindley Murray to his Wife, "apparently written 
 as far back as 1783," found among a parcel of let- 
 ters from the sisters of the grammarian to a lady 
 friend. They, however, appear, with the excep- 
 tion of the last stanza, in the Weccamieal Chaplet, 
 a selection of original poetry, comprising smaller 
 Poems, serious and comic ; classical trifles ; son- 
 nets, inscriptions, and epitaphs ; songs and ballads; 
 mock heroics ; epigrams, fragments, &c. Edited 
 by George Huddesford. Cr. 8vo., pp. 223, 6s. bds. 
 Leigh & Sotheby, 1805; a collection which de- 
 rives its name from the circumstance, that all its 
 contributors were educated at Winchester school, 
 founded by William of Wickham. The Poem in 
 question, with the title, " Song — Mutual Love," is 
 quoted as one of the novelties, or new poems, of 
 this publication in the Monthly Review, for Feb- 
 ruary, 1806 ; and is stated to be, with many of 
 
 * Memoirs of tlie Life and Writings of Lindley "Murray, in a 
 Series of Letters, written by himself ; with a preface, and a 
 continuation of the Memoirs. By Elizabeth Frank. New 
 York. 1S27. 
 
 the best pieces of the volume, by Huddesford, who 
 is spoken of as a " legitimate (literary) descendant 
 of Mat Prior." 
 
 Huddesford published in 1801, Poems, including 
 Salmagundi, Topsy Turvy, Bubble and Squeak, 
 and Crainbe Repetita, Lond. 1801. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 12s. Most of these had previously appeared in a 
 separate form. The shorter pieces are interspers- 
 ed with poems by his friends. In 1805, he pub- 
 lished his Champignons du Diable, or Imperial 
 Mushrooms, amock heroic poem in five cantos ; in- 
 cluding a Conference between the Pope and the 
 Devil, on his Holiness' Visit to Paris, illustrated 
 with Notes. 12mo. (Noticed in Monthly Re- 
 view, 38, p. 272.) 
 
 Huddesford's Poems show great ease and spirit 
 in versification, with abundant wit. He seems to 
 have thrown off effusions on subjects of the 
 day, being probably a gentleman of easy fortune, 
 writing for amusement. His Chaplet is dedi- 
 cated by permission to Lord Loughborough : and 
 among his school associates at Winchester were 
 the present Archbishop of Canterbury, and other 
 distinguished persons.* His claim to the verses 
 in question appears superior to ' that of Murray, 
 but neither deserves any greater praise than that 
 (•fan adapter, as the lines in question are taken 
 with slight alteration from the song, "Matrimo- 
 nial Happiness," by John Lapraik, a Scotchman, 
 who was born in 1727; published a volume of 
 Poems in 1778; and died the keeper of the post- 
 office at the village of Muirkirk, in 1807. Burns 
 hearing the song sung at a " rockin, to ca' the 
 crack and weave the stockin," was so struck with 
 its beaut}', that he addressed a rhyming epistle 
 to the author. In it he says, 
 
 There was ae sang amang the rest, 
 Aboon them a 'it pleased me best. 
 That some kind husband had addrest 
 
 To some sweet wife'; 
 It thrill'd the heart strings through the bresst, 
 
 A' to the life. 
 
 I've scarce heard ought described sae wee!. 
 What generous manly bosoms feel ; 
 Thought I, can this be Pope, or Steele, 
 
 Or Beattie's work ? 
 They tould me 'twas an odd kind ehiel 
 
 About Muirkirk. • 
 
 The letter, as it well might, led to a correspon- 
 dence, which includes two other poetical Epislles 
 by Burns,t between the poets. Burns says that 
 Lapraik "often told him that he composed the 
 song one day when his wife had been fretting o'er 
 their misfortunes," which consisted in the loss of 
 their small estate at Dalfram, nearMuirkirk ; "which 
 little property he was obliged to sell, in consequence 
 of some connexion, as security, for some persons 
 concerned in that villanous bubble, The Ayr 
 Bank.'" 
 
 Having thus traced the poem to the original 
 source, we present it in its successive stages. 
 
 MATHIMONIAL HAPPINESS. 
 
 [Btj John Lapraik.} 
 When I upon thy bosom lean, 
 And fondly clasp thee a' rny ain, 
 
 * Southern Lit. Messenger. April, 1S3T. 
 t Chambers's Life ar.d Works of Burns, i. 115, 119, 1S9. 
 Book of Scottish Sols:, p. 3ol. 
 
JOHN JAY. 
 
 263 
 
 I glory in the sacred ties 
 
 That make us one, wha anee "were twain. 
 A mutual flame inspires us baith, 
 
 The tender look, the meltin kiss: 
 E'en years shall ne'er destroy our love, 
 
 But only gi'eus change o' bliss. 
 
 Ha'e I a wish ? It's a' for thee ! 
 
 I ken thy wish is me to please ; 
 Our moments pass sae smooth away, 
 
 That numbers on us look and gaze ; 
 Weel pleased they see our happy days, 
 
 Nor envy's sel' finds aught to blame ; 
 Aud aye, when weary cares arise, 
 
 Thy bosom still shall be my hame. 
 
 I'll lay me there and tak' my rest; 
 
 And, if that aught disturb my dear, 
 I'll bid her laugh her cares away, 
 
 And beg her not to drop a tear. 
 Ha'e I a joy ? it's a' her ain ! 
 
 United still her heart and mine ; 
 They're like the woodbine round the tree, 
 
 That's twined till death shall them disjoin. 
 
 BONG — MTTUAL LOVE. 
 
 [Fro7)i the Weccamical CJuqjlei.] 
 When on thy bosom I recline, 
 Enraptur'd still to call thee mine, 
 
 To call thee mine for life, 
 I glory in the sacred ties, 
 Which modern wits and fools despise, 
 
 Of husband and of wife. 
 
 One mutual flame inspires our bliss, 
 The tender look, the melting kiss. 
 
 Even years have not destroyed ; 
 Some sweet sensation ever new, 
 Springs up, and proves the maxim true, 
 
 That love can ne'er be eloy'd. 
 
 Have I a wish ? 'tis all for thee. 
 Hast thou a wish ? 'tis all for me. 
 
 So soft our moments move, 
 That angels look with ardent gaze, 
 Well pleased to see our happy days, 
 
 And bid us live and love. 
 
 If cares arise — and cares will come. — 
 Thy bosom is my softest home; 
 
 I'll lull me there to rest; 
 And is there aught disturbs my fair ? 
 I'll bid her sigh out every care, 
 
 And lose it in my breast. 
 
 Additional stanza, added in the copy attributed 
 to Dudley Murray : — 
 
 Have I a wish ? 'tis all her own ; 
 All hers and mine are roll'd in one, 
 
 Our hearts are so entwined, 
 That, like the ivy round the tree, 
 Bound up in closest amity, 
 
 Tis death to be disjoin'd. 
 
 JOIIX JAY. 
 The literary reputation of Jay is incidental to his 
 political career, and attaches "to the national state 
 papers which he sent forth from the Conti- 
 nental Congress, which did much to prepare the 
 way for American liberty, and to his contribu- 
 tions to the Federalist, by which he assisted in 
 permanently securing that liberty which he was 
 one of the first to promote. His "Address to 
 the people of Great Britain," in 1774, called 
 forth the admiration of Jefferson. It is marked 
 by moral earnestness and patriotic fervor, quali- 
 
 ties shared by his address to the inhabitants of 
 Canada and the people of Ireland. The appeal 
 of the Convention of the State of New York to 
 the people in 1776, anil the address of Congress 
 to the country in 1799f meeting the financial 
 condition of the times, and his Address to the 
 people of the State of New York, in support of 
 the adoption of the Constitution, are his other 
 chief productions of this kind. He. wrote five 
 papers of the Federalist; the second, third, 
 fourth, and fifth, on Dangers from foreign force 
 and influence, and the sixty-fourth on the treaty- 
 making power of the senate. He would have 
 furnished others had he not received an injury 
 in the interim, in hisvindication of the law in the 
 Doctors' mob of the city of New York. 
 
 Of Huguenot descent, Jay was a native of the 
 city of New York, born December 12, 1745, a 
 graduate of Columbia College, a delegate to the 
 first revolutionary Congress at the age of twenty- 
 eight, three years later Chief Justice of Ins State, 
 Minister of Spain and negotiator of the peace 
 with Great Britain, Secretary of State, Chief 
 Justice of the United States, Governor of his own 
 State : abundant honors and employment, which 
 still left him nearly thirty years of rural retire- 
 ment at Bedford, where he died May 17, 1829, at 
 the age of eighty-four. Moral worth and sober 
 judgment have had no finer exemplification in 
 our best political annals. His life, written by 
 his son William Jay, contains a Selection from 
 his Correspondence. 
 
 FKOM THE ADDRESS OP TirE NEW Y0KK CONVENTION, 1776. 
 
 " Under the auspices and direction of Divine 
 Providence, your forefathers removed to the wilds 
 and wilderness of America. By their industry, 
 they made it fruitful — and by their virtue, a happy 
 country. And we should still have enjoyed the 
 blessings of peace and plenty, if we had not forgot- 
 ten the source from which these blessings flowed; 
 and permitted our country to be contaminated by 
 the many shameful vices which have prevailed 
 among us. 
 
 " It is a well known truth, that no virtuous people 
 were ever oppressed ; and it is also true, that a 
 scourge was never wanting to those of an opposite 
 character. Even the Jews, those favourites of 
 Heaven, met with the frowns, whenever they for- 
 got the smiles of their benevolent Creator. By ty- 
 rants of Egypt, of Babylon, of Syria, and of Rome, 
 they were severely chastised; and those tyrants 
 themselves, wdien they had executed the vengeance 
 of Almighty God, their own crimes bursting on 
 their own heads, received the rewards justly due 
 to their violation of the sacred rights of mankind. 
 
 " You were born equally free with the Jews, and 
 have as good a right to be exempted from the 
 arbitrary domination of Britain, as they had from 
 the invasions of Egypt, Babylon, Syria, or Rome. 
 But they, for their wickedness, were permitted to 
 be scourged by the latter; and we, for our wicked- 
 ness, are scourged by tyrants as cruel and im- 
 placable as those. Our case, however, is peculiarly 
 distinguished from theirs. Their enemies were 
 strangers, unenlightened, and bound to them by no 
 
264 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ties of gratitude or consanguinity. Our enemies, on 
 the contrary, call themselves Christians. They are 
 of a nation and people bound to us by the strongest 
 ties. A people, by whose side n f e have fought and 
 bled ; whose power we have contributed to raise ; 
 who owe much of their wealth to our industry, and 
 whose grandeur has been augmented by our ex- 
 ertions. ******* 
 
 " You may be told that your forts have been 
 taken ; your country ravaged ; and that your 
 armies have retreated ; and that, therefore, God 
 is not with you. It is true, that some forts have 
 been taken, that our country hath been ravaged, 
 and that our Maker is displeased with us. But it is 
 also true, that the King of Heaven is not, like the 
 king of Britain, implacable. If we turn from our 
 sins, He will turn from his anger. Then will our 
 arms be crowned with success, and the pride and 
 power of our enemies, like the arrogance and pride 
 of Nebuchadnezzar, will vanish away. Let a gene- 
 ral reformation of manners take place — let universal 
 charity, public spirit, and private virtue be incul- 
 cated, encouraged, and practised. Unite in preparing 
 for a vigorous defence of your country, as if all de- 
 pended on your own exertions. And when you 
 have done all things, then rely upon the good Provi- 
 dence of Almighty God for success, in full confidence 
 that without his blessing, all our efforts will inevi- 
 tably fail. ****** * 
 
 " Cease, then, to desire the flesh-pots of Egypt, 
 and remember her task-masters and oppression. No 
 longer hesitate about rejecting all dependence on a 
 king who will rule you with a rod of iron : freedom 
 is now in your power — value the heavenly gift: 
 remember, that if you dare to neglect or despise it, 
 you offer an insult to the Divine bestower — nor 
 despair of keeping it. After the armies of Rome 
 had been repeatedly defeated by Hannibal, that 
 imperial city was besieged by this brave and ex- 
 perienced general, at the head of a numerous and 
 victorious army. But, so far were her glorious citi- 
 zens from being dismayed by the loss of so many 
 battles, and of all their country — so confident were 
 they in their own virtue and the protection of 
 Heaven, that the very land on which the Cartha- 
 ginians were encamped, was sold at public auction 
 for more than the usual price. These heroic citi- 
 zens disdained to receive his protections, or to regard 
 his proclamations. They invoked the protection of 
 the Supreme Being — they bravely defended then- 
 city with undaunted courage — they repelled the 
 enemy and recovered their country. Blush, then, 
 ye degenerate spirits, who give all over for lost, be- 
 cause your enemies have marched through three or 
 four counties in this and a neighbouring State — ye 
 who basely fly to have the yoke of slavery fixed on 
 your necks, and to swear that you and your chil- 
 dren shall be slaves for ever. * * * 
 
 " Rouse, brave citizens ! Do your duty like men ; 
 and be persuaded that Divine Providence will not 
 permit this western world to be involved in the hor- 
 rors of slavery. Consider, that from the earliest 
 ages of the world, religion, liberty, and reason have 
 been bending their course towards the Betting sun. 
 The holy gospels are yet to be preached in these 
 western regions; and we have the highest reason to 
 believe that the Almighty will not suffer slavery and 
 the gospel to go hand in hand. It cannot, it will 
 not be. 
 
 " But if there be any among us, dead to all sense 
 of honour, and love of their country; if deaf to all 
 the calls of liberty, virtue, and religion ; if forget- 
 ful of the magnanimity of their ancestors, and the 
 happiness of their children ; if neither the exam- 
 ples nor. the success of other nations — the dictates 
 
 of reason and of nature ; or the great duties 
 they owe to their God, themselves, and their pos- 
 terity, have any effect upon them — if neither the 
 injuries they have received, the prize they are con- 
 tending for, the future blessings or curses of their 
 children — the applause or the reproach of all man- 
 kind — the approbation or displeasure of the Great 
 Judge — or the happiness or misery consequent upon 
 their conduct, in this and a future state, can move 
 them; — then let them be assured, that they deserve 
 to be slaves, and are entitled to nothing but anguish . 
 and tribulation. Let them banish from their remem- 
 brance the reputation, the freedom, and the happi- 
 ness they have inherited from their forefathers. Let 
 them forget every duty, human and divine; remem- 
 ber not that they have children: and beware how 
 they call to mind the justice of the Supreme Being: 
 let them go into captivity, like the idolatrous and 
 disobedient Jews; and be a reproach and a by-word 
 among the nations. But we think better things of 
 you, — we believe and are persuaded that you will 
 do your duty like men, and cheerfully refer your 
 cause to the great and righteous Judge. If success 
 crown your efforts, all the blessings of freemen will 
 be your reward. If you fall in the contest, you will 
 be happy with God in heaven." 
 
 BENJAMIN ETJSH. 
 The benevolent and ingenious Dr. Benjamin 
 Rush, the friend of Franklin, was born on his 
 father's farm near Philadelphia, December 24, 
 1745. One of his ancestors, John Rush, a captain 
 of horse under Cromwell, emigrated from England 
 to the state among its first settlers. In his boy- 
 hood he was fortunate, after .the death of his 
 father, in being placed under the instruction of 
 his aunt's husband, Dr. Finley, afterwards Presi- 
 dent of Princeton, then at Nottingham, a country 
 town in Maryland, remarkable for the simplicity 
 and purity of its people. At fourteen lie entered 
 the College at Princeton, then presided over by the 
 eloquent and patriotic Davies. He was graduated 
 the next year, studied medicine with Dr. Redman, 
 translated the aphorisms of Hippocrates, and 
 wrote a Eulogy on the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, the 
 associate of Whitefield, at Philadelphia, passed to 
 Edinburgh, where he took his degree in 1768, re- 
 turning the next year to America after a residence 
 in London and Paris. He then became connected 
 with the College of Philadelphia as Lecturer on 
 Chemistry, and afterwards, when that institution 
 became the University of Pennsylvania, as a Pro- 
 fessor of the Institutes and Practice of Medicine, 
 delivering courses of medical lectures for forty- 
 four years. His theories, and the story of his 
 success in the treatment of the yellow fever of 
 1793, in which he derived aid from the acumen of 
 Dr. Mitchell of Virginia,* of which he published 
 an account in 1794, belong to the annals of me- 
 dical science. 
 
 His political principles were displayed in his 
 zeal on the breaking out of the Revolution, when 
 
 * John Mitchell, an Englishman, Fellow of the Royal Soci- 
 ety, settled in Virginia as physician about 17( 0, wrote on bo- 
 tany, aud also an Essay on the Causes of the Different Colours 
 of People of Different Climates, attributing the variation to 
 climate, published in the Philosophical Transactions. His pi- 
 per on the Yellow Fever of Virginia, in MS., was commuri- 
 cated by Franklin to Bush, who made one of its hints on tl.e 
 use of purgatives, the basis of his medical practice in that 
 disease, lie died about 1750. — Ramsay's Eulogy on Eu;h, 
 Tuacher's Med. Biog. Miller's Retrospect, i. Sis. 
 
BENJAMIN RUSH. 
 
 2G5 
 
 lie sat in Congress and signed the Declaration of 
 Independence. He bore a medical appointment 
 in the military service. In 1787 he was a mem- 
 ber of the State Convention for the adoption of 
 the Federal Constitution. In the latter years of 
 his life he held the government appointment of 
 Treasurer of the Mint. He was greatly honored 
 and esteemed at home and abroad. His death 
 occurred at Philadelphia, April 19, 1813, in his 
 sixty-eighth year. Jefferson, writing to John 
 Adams the ensuing month, says, " Another of 
 our friends of seventy-six is gone, my dear sir, 
 another of the co-signers of the Independence of 
 our country : and a better man than Rush could 
 not have left us, more benevolent, more learned, 
 of finer genius, or more honest." 
 
 Of his numerous professional writings, his 
 Medical Inquiries and Observations form a series 
 of four volumes. This work, which was pub- 
 lished in a third edition, revised and enlarged by 
 the author, in Philadelphia, in 1809, with a num- 
 ber of special medical topics, includes the Inquiry 
 into the Cause of Animal Life, the Natural 
 History of Medicine amour/ the North American 
 Irdians, the Influence 'of Physical Causes upon 
 the Moral Faculty, a paper On the State of the 
 Body and Mind in Old Age, and the ingenious 
 Account of the Influence of the Military and 
 Political Even ts of the American Revolution upon 
 the Human Body* 
 
 His Medical Inquiries and Observations upon 
 the Diseases of the Mind, following the same gene- 
 ral title, form another volume, which appeared in 
 1812, not long before his death ; a book which is 
 of interest to the general reader by the variety 
 of its topics and its frequent personal anecdotes. 
 
 His reading was various, and all brought to 
 bear on his medical studies. It was his constant 
 object to popularize and render attractive the 
 principles of medicine. His Introductory Lec- 
 tures to Courses of Lectures upon the Institutes 
 and Practice of Medicine, connect many impor- 
 tant moral topics with the science which he dis- 
 cussed. 
 
 There is a pleasant early volume of his Essays, 
 Literary, Moral, and Philosophical, collected by 
 him in an octavo, in 1798, chiefly from his pa- 
 pers in the Museum and Columbian Magazine 
 of Philadelphia. It is a favorable display of his 
 tastes and powers. His habits of intellectual in- 
 dustry were ingenious and unceasing. He was 
 greatly influenced by the example of Franklin, 
 of whose conversation lie meditated writing a 
 volume, an undertaking which it is much to be 
 regretted he did not execute. He was always in 
 company with a book — if not a written volume, 
 at least, as his eulogist Dr. Ramsay remarked, 
 the book of nature. He kept with him a note- 
 book, in one part of which he inserted facts, in 
 another, ideas and reflection-, as they arose in his 
 own mind, or were the suggestions of others. 
 He advised his pupils to lay every person they 
 met with in stage-coaches, packets, or elsewhere, 
 under contribution for facts in the physical sci- 
 ences. It was a saying of his, which reminds 
 
 * Corvisart. in his Essay on the Disease* antl Organic Le- 
 sions of tin' Heart and great Vessels, notices the increase of 
 affections of that nature under the excitement of the French 
 devolution. 
 
 one of his free use of the lancet, " that ideas, 
 whether acquired from books or by reflection, 
 produced a plethora in the mind, which can only 
 be relieved by depletion from the pen or tongue." 
 His judgment was not, however, always equally 
 sound, his restless inquisitiveness of knowledge 
 being sometimes at fault. The Rev. Dr. Staugh- 
 ton, who delivered a funeral sermon on his death, 
 said, " His intellect was a Columbus, mistaking 
 sometimes the nature and extent of discovery, 
 but delighting in the voyage, calm, persevering, 
 and successful." One of these false discoveries 
 in intellectual geography, was the notion ex- 
 pressed in his Observations on the Study of the 
 Latin and Greek Languages, of the worthlessness. 
 of that branch of education. His zeal carried 
 him so far on this point, as to advance the thesis, 
 " the cultivation of these languages is a great ob- 
 stacle to the cultivation and perfection of the 
 English language." 
 
 Schoolboys had in him a good friend. His 
 paper On the Amusements and Punishments pro- 
 per for Schools* resolutely opposes corporal 
 punishment, as his Essay on the Punishment of 
 Crimes by Death, does hanging, for he thought 
 the best means of prevention to be, "by living, 
 and not by dead examples." His Paradise of 
 Negro Slaves — A Dream, the vision appended to 
 his notice of the Life of Anthony Benezet, is a 
 dramatic and highly pathetic appeal for humanity 
 to the African. His benevolence was shown in 
 his efforts to improve the condition of prisons ; 
 and his practical Christianity, by the disposition 
 which he made of his Sunday fees. He gave 
 i them entirely to objects of charity. His gene-, 
 rosity led him, in the yellow fever time, to com- 
 municate freely to the public the remedies, the 
 success of which had brought him a great acces- 
 sion of practice. When he received five thou- 
 
 * He thought the study of grammar was too early forced 
 upon tfic attention of children. lie recommended geography 
 and natural history as primary studies. " By making natural 
 history the first study of a boy," says he, with great beauty, 
 
 I "we imitate the conduct of the first teacher of man. The 
 first lesson that Adam received from his Maker in Paradise, 
 
 ! was upon Natural History." 
 
2GG 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 sand dollars in the libel suit against Cobbett, he 
 gave the money to the poor.* 
 
 His religion was inwrought with his love of 
 country. A Christian, he said, could not fail of 
 being a republican. Ills Inquiry into the Effect 
 of Ardent Spirits upon the Human Body and 
 Mind places him among the earliest promoters 
 of the Temperance cause. 
 
 The amiable activity of Rush was shown in 
 his causing Beattie, the poet, to be elected a 
 member of the American Philosophical Society, 
 and sending him a certificate subscribed by Frank- 
 lin. This was in 1786. His letter to the poet 
 commences : " The American Revolution, which 
 divided the British empire, made no breach in the 
 republic of letters.'"t 
 
 A pleasing instance of the happy sympathe- 
 tic turn of Rush is in his short biographies of the 
 Quaker Benezet and the eccentric Benjamin Lay, 
 as well as in his Account of the Life and Charac- 
 ter of Christopher Ludicicl; "the baker-general 
 of the army of the United States during the Revo- 
 lutionary war," which lie wrote in Poulsou's 
 American Daily Advertiser, in 1801. J 
 
 The personal description, in Sanderson's Lives 
 of the Signers, answering to the portrait by Sully, 
 represents him as " above the middle size ; of a 
 slender but well proportioned figure. The dia- 
 meter of his head, from back to front, was un- 
 commonly large. He had a prominent forehead ; 
 aquiline nose; highly animated blue eyes, with 
 a chin and mouth expressive and comely; his 
 look was fixed, his aspect thoughtful. ''§ John 
 Adams, who met him in Philadelphia, during the 
 Congress of 177-1-5, notices his residence upon 
 Water street, and the fine prospect of Delaware 
 River and New Jersey, from his window; and 
 
 * The eagerness of "Hush led him to carry his theories and 
 notions to excess. Cobbett seized upon souie of his weak 
 points for annoyance, and committing his pen to a libel, was 
 mulcted by an indignant jury of the good Doctor's townspeo- 
 ple (encouraged by his counsel, Joseph Hopkinson, tiie author 
 of "Hail Columbia,") in the sum of five thousand dollars, 
 which, with the sacrifices of his property and the incidental 
 damages, he sets down in the Rush- Li >jht at eight thousand. 
 This was his famous rejoinder to the libel suit, and was pub- 
 lished at Kew York, in 1800, in a periodical 12mo. pamphlet, 
 in four numbers, in which he brings all his artillery of squib 
 and detraction against the Doctor. It had a large sale, for the 
 public relishes witty personality, and Cobbett had a method 
 of always getting readers for his writings. Perhaps the com- 
 parison of Rush to Sangrado, in his bleeding practice, sup- 
 ported by parallel passages taken from Gil Bias and the Doc- 
 tor's writings, and the eulogies by his friends, is the best por- 
 tion. He soon left for England, when Frenean celebrated his 
 departure with an allusion to his extinguished Rush-light, and 
 the popular charge of his pension from England as a supporter 
 of monarchical ideas in America, and an enemy to free insti- 
 tutions. 
 
 Five thousand dollars, we may guess, 
 Have made his pension something less — 
 So, Peter left us — in distress, 
 
 + Life of Beattie, by the P.ev. Alexander Dyce. 
 
 % Ludwick was a man of mark, a German, who, after va- 
 rious adventures, as a soldier in the wars of the Austrians 
 against the Turks, and a sailor out of England, reached Phila- 
 delphia in 1758. With the proceeds of a small mercantile ven- 
 ture he went to London, and learned the business of a ginger- 
 bread baker and confectioner; returning to Philadelphia in 
 1774 with a stock of gingerbread prints, with which he be- 
 came famous for his manufacture of that article. He joined 
 the Revolution at its outset, and sacrificed his property in the 
 cause. He assisted the commissariat with his skill as a baker. 
 He died in 18(1, in his eightieth year, leaving a considerable 
 
 ?roperty for benev >lent uses, mainly for charity s -hoois. In 
 831. tiie newspaper account of him, by Ru>h. was revised and 
 republished, by direction of the Philadelphia Society for the 
 establishment and support of charity schools, in a linn 18mo. 
 volume. 
 § Biography of the Signers, iv, 285. 
 
 describes his person characteristically — " an ele- 
 gant, ingenious body ; a sprightly, pretty fellow. 
 He is a republican ; he lias been much in Lon- 
 don; acquainted with Sawbridge, Macaulay, 
 Burgh, and others of that stamp. Dilly sends 
 him books and pamphlets, and Sawbridge and 
 Macaulay correspond with him."* 
 
 He married in his thirty-second year, in 1776, 
 the daughter of the Hon. Judge Stockton, by 
 which marriage he had thirteen children. 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE INFLUENCE OF TTTE MILITARY ANP POLITICAL 
 EVENTS OF TUE AMEP.ICAN REVOLUTION UPON THE HUMAN 
 BODY. 
 
 There were several circumstances peculiar to the 
 American revolution, which should be mentioned 
 previously to an account of the influence of the 
 events which accompanied it upon the human body. 
 
 1. The revolution interested every inhabitant of 
 the country of both sexes, and of every rank and age 
 that was capable of reflection. An indifferent, or 
 neutral, spectator of the controversy was scarcely to 
 be found in any of the states. 
 
 2. The scenes of war and government which it 
 introduced were new to the greatest pait of the 
 inhabitants of the United states, and operated with 
 all the force of novelty upon the human mind. 
 
 3. The controversy was conceived to be the most 
 important of any that had ever engaged the atten- 
 tion of mankind. It was generally believed, by the 
 friends of the revolution, that the very existence of 
 freedom, upon our globe, was involved in the issue 
 of the contest in favour of the United States. 
 
 4. The American revolution included in it the 
 cares of government, as well as the toils and dan- 
 gers of war. The American mind was. therefore, 
 frequently occupied, at the same time, by the diffi- 
 cult and complicated duties of political and military 
 life. 
 
 5. The revolution was conducted by men who had 
 been born free, and whose sense of the blessings of 
 liberty was of course more exquisite than if they 
 had just emerged from a state of slavery. 
 
 6. The greatest part of the soldiers in the armies 
 of the United States had family connections and 
 property in the country. 
 
 7. The war was carried on by the Americans 
 against a nation, to whom they had long been tied 
 by tiie numerous obligations of consanguinity, laws, 
 religion, commerce, language, interest, and a mutual 
 sense of national glory. The resentments of the 
 Americans of course rose, as is usual in all disputes, 
 in proportion to tiie number and force of these 
 ancient bonds of affection and union. 
 
 8. A predilection to a limited monarchy, as an 
 essential part of a free and safe government, and an 
 attachment to the reigning king of Great Britain 
 (witli a very few exceptions) were universal in every 
 part of the United States. 
 
 9. There was at one time a sudden dissolution of 
 civil government in all, and of ecclesiastical esta- 
 blishments in several, of the states. 
 
 10. The expenses of the war were supported by 
 means of a paper currency, which was continually 
 depreciating. 
 
 From the action of each of these causes, and fre- 
 quently from their combination in the same persons, 
 effects might reasonably be expected, botii upon the 
 mind and body, which have seldom occurred ; or if 
 they have, I believe were never fully recorded in 
 any age or country. 
 
 It might afford some useful instruction, to point 
 
 * Adams's Diary, Works, ii. 880, 427. 
 
BENJAMIN RUSH. 
 
 267 
 
 out the influence of the military and political events 
 of the revolution upon the understandings; passions, 
 and morals of the citizens of the United States ; but 
 my business in the present inquiry is only to take 
 notice of the influence of those events upon the 
 human bod} T , through the medium of the mind. 
 
 I shall first mention the effects of the military, 
 and, secondly, of the political events of the revolu- 
 tion. The last must be considered in a two-fold 
 view, accordingly as they affected the friends, or 
 the enemies, of the revolution. 
 
 I. In treating of the effects of the military events, 
 I shall take notice, first, of the influence of actual 
 •war, and, secondly, of the influence of the military 
 life. 
 
 In the beginning of a battle, I have observed 
 thirst to be a very common sensation among both 
 officers an.l soldiers. It occurred where no exercise, 
 or action of the body, could have excited it. 
 
 Many officers have informed me, that after the 
 first onset in a battle they felt a glow of heat, so 
 universal as to be perceptible in both their ears. 
 This was the case, in a particular manner, in the 
 battle of Princeton, on the third of January, in the 
 year 1777, on which day the weather was remark- 
 ably cold. 
 
 A veteran colonel of a New England regiment, 
 whom I visited at Princeton, and who was wounded 
 in the hand at the battle of Monmouth, on the 28th 
 of June, 1778 (a day in which the mercury stood 
 at 90' of Fahrenheit's thermometer) after describing 
 his situation at the time he received his wound, I 
 conclude! his story by remarking, "that fighting 
 ■was hot work on a cold day, but much more so 
 on a warm day." The many instances which 
 appeared after that memorable battle, of soldiers 
 who were found among the slain without any 
 marks of wounds or violence upon their bodies, 
 were probably occasioned by the heat excited in the 
 body, by the emotions of the mind, being added to 
 that of the atmosphere. 
 
 Soldiers bore operations of every kind, immedi- 
 ately after a battle, with much more fortitude than 
 they did at any time afterwards. 
 
 The effects of the military life upon the human 
 body come next to be considered under this head. 
 
 In another place I have mentioned three cases 
 of pulmonary consumption being perfectly cured by 
 the diet and hardships of a camp life. 
 
 Doctor Blane, in his valuable observations on the 
 diseases incident to seamen, ascribes the extraordi- 
 nary healthiness of the British fleet in the month of 
 April, 1782, to the effects produced on the spirit of 
 the soldiers and seamen, by the victory obtained 
 over the French fleet on the 12th of that month ; 
 and relates, upon the authority of Mr. Ives, an 
 instance, in the war betwueu Great Britain and the 
 combined powers of France and Spain, in 1744, ill 
 ■which the scurvy, as well as other diseases, were 
 checked by the prospect of a naval engagement. 
 
 The American ami}' furnished an instance of the 
 effects of victory upon the human mind, which may 
 serve to establish the inferences from the facts 
 related by Doctor Blane. The Philadelphia militia 
 "who joined the remains of General Washington's 
 arm}', in December, 1776, and shared with them a 
 few days afterwards in the capture of a large body 
 of Hessians at Trenton, consisted of 1500 men, most 
 of whom had been accustomed to the habits of a 
 city life. These men slept in tents and barns, and 
 sometimes in the open air, during the usual colds of 
 December and January; and yet there were but 
 two instances of sickness, and only one of death, in 
 that body of men in the course of nearly six weeks, 
 in those winter months. This extraordinary healthi- 
 
 ness of so great a number of men, under such trying 
 circumstances, can only be ascribed to the vigour 
 infused into the human body by the victory of 
 Trenton having produced insensibility to all the usual 
 remote causes of diseases. 
 
 Militia officers and soldiers, who enjoyed good 
 health during a campaign, were often affected by 
 fevers and other diseases, as soon as they returned 
 to their respective homes. I know one instance of a 
 militia captain, who was seized with convulsions the 
 first night he lay on a feather bed, after sleeping 
 several months on a mattress, or upon the ground. 
 These affections of the body appeared to be pro- 
 duced only by the sudden abstraction of that tone 
 in the system, which was excited by a sense of 
 danger, and the other invigorating objects of a 
 military life. 
 
 The nostalgia of Doctor Cullen, or the home- 
 sickness, was a frequent disease in the American 
 army, more especially among the soldiers of the 
 New England states. But this disease was sus- 
 pended by the superior action of the mind, under 
 the influence of the principles which governed com- 
 mon soldiers in the American army. Of this 
 General Gates furnished me with a remarkable 
 instance in 1776, soon after his return from the 
 command of a large body of regular troops and 
 militia at Ticonderoga. From the effects of the 
 nostalgia, and the feebleness of the discipline which 
 was exercised over the militia, desertions jvere very 
 frequent and numerous in his army, in the latter 
 part of the campaign ; and yet during the three 
 week.* in which the general expected every hour an 
 attack to be made Upon him by General Burgoyne, 
 there was not a single desertion from his army, 
 which consisted at that time of 10,000 men. 
 
 The patience, firmness, and magnanimity, with 
 which the officers and soldiers of the American army 
 endured the complicated evils of hunger, cold and 
 nakedness, can only be ascribed to an insensibility 
 of body produced by an uncommon tone of mind, 
 excited by the love of liberty and their country. 
 
 Before I proceed to the second general division 
 of this subject, I shall take notice, that more instan- 
 ces of apoplexies occurred in the city of Philadel- 
 phia, in the winter of 1774-5, than had been known 
 in former years. I should have hesitated in record- 
 ing this fact, had I not found the observation sup- 
 ported by a fact of the same kind, and produced by 
 a nearly similar cause, in the appendix to the prac- 
 tical works of Doctor Baglivi, professor of physic 
 and anatomy at Rome. After a very wet season in 
 the winter of 1694-5, he informs us, that "apoplex- 
 ies displayed their rage ; and perhaps (adds our 
 author) some part of this epidemic illness was 
 owing to the universal grief and domestic care, 
 occasioned by all Europe being engaged in a war. 
 All commerce was disturbed, and all the avenues of 
 peace blocked up, so that the strongest heart could 
 scarcely bear the thoughts of it." The winter of 
 1774-5 was a period of uncommon anxiety among 
 the citizens of America. Every countenance wore 
 the marks of painful solicitude for the event of a 
 petition to the throne of Britain, which was to 
 determine whetherreconciliation, or a civil Avar, with 
 all its terrible and distressing consequences, were 
 to take place. The apoplectic fit, which deprived 
 the world of the talents and virtues of Peyton 
 Randolph, while he rilled the chair of 'Congress, in 
 1775, appeared to be occasioned in part by the pres- 
 sure of the uncertainty of those great events upon 
 his mind. To the name of this illustrious patriot, 
 several others might be added, who were affected 
 by the apoplexy in the same memorable year. At 
 this time a difference of opinion upon the subject of 
 
268 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the contest with Great Britain had scarcely taken 
 place among the citizens of America. 
 
 II. The political events of the revolution pro- 
 duced different effects upon the human body, 
 through the medium of the mind, according as 
 they acted upou the friends or enemies of the revo- 
 lution. 
 
 I shall first describe its effects upon the former 
 class of citizens of the United States. 
 
 Many persons, of infirm and delicate habits, were 
 restored to perfect health, by the change of place, 
 or occupation, to which the war exposed them. 
 This was the case in a more especial manner with 
 hysterical women, who were much interested in the 
 successful issue of the contest. The same effects of 
 a civil war upon the hysteria, were observed by 
 Doctor Cullen in Scotland, in the years 1745 and 
 1746. It may perhaps help to extend our ideas of 
 the influence of the passions upon diseases, to add, 
 that when either love, jealous}', grief, or even devo- 
 tion, wholly engross the female mind, they seldom 
 fail, in like manner, to cure or to suspend hysterical 
 complaints. 
 
 An uncommon cheerfulness prevailed everywhere, 
 among the friends of the revolution. Defeats, and 
 even the loss of relations and property, were soon 
 forgotten in the great objects of the war. 
 
 The population in the United States was more 
 rapid from births during the war, than it had ever 
 been in the siime number of years since the settle- 
 ment of the country. 
 
 I am disposed to ascribe this increase of births 
 chiefly to the quantity and extensive circulation of 
 money, and to the facility of procuring the means 
 of subsistence during the war, which favoured mar- 
 riages among the labouring part of the people.* 
 But I have sufficient documents to prove, that mar- 
 riages were more fruitful than in former years, and 
 that a considerable number of unfruitful marriages 
 became fruitful during the war. In 1783, the year 
 of the peace, there were several children born of 
 parents who had lived many years together without 
 issue. 
 
 Mr. Hume informs us, in his History of England, 
 that some old people, upon hearing the news of the 
 restoration of Charles II., died suddenly of joy. 
 There was a time when I doubted the truth of this 
 assertion ; but I am now disposed to believe it, from 
 having heard of a similar effect from an agreeable 
 political event, in the course of the American revo- 
 lution. The door-keeper of Congress, an aged man, 
 died suddenly, immediately after hearing of the 
 capture of Lord Cornwallis's army. His death was 
 universally ascribed to a violent emotion of political 
 joy. This species of J03' appears to be one of the 
 strongest emotions that can agitate the human mind. 
 
 Perhaps the influence of that ardour in trade and 
 speculation, which seized many of the friends of the 
 revolution, and which was excited by the fallacious 
 nominal amount of the paper money, should rather 
 be considered as a disease, than as a passion. It un- 
 hinged the judgment, deposed the moral faculty, and 
 filled the imagination, in many people, with airy 
 and impracticable schemes of wealth and grandeur. 
 Desultory manners, and a peculiar species of extem- 
 pore conduct, were among its characteristic symp- 
 toms. It produced insensibility to cold, hunger, and 
 danger. The trading towns, and in some instances 
 the extremities of the United States, were frequently 
 
 * Wheat, which was sold before the war for seven shillings 
 and sixpence, was sold for several years during the war for 
 four, and iit some places for two and sixpence Pennsylvania 
 currency, per bushel. Beggars of every description disap- 
 peared in the year 17T6, and were seldom seen till near the 
 elose of the war. 
 
 visited in a few hours or days by persons affected 
 by this disease ; and hence, " to travel with the 
 speed of a speculator," became a common saying in 
 many parts of the country. This species of insanity 
 (if I may be allowed to call it by that name) did not 
 require the confinement of a Bedlam to cure it, like 
 the South-Sea madness described by Doctor Mead. 
 Its remedies were the depreciation of the paper mo- 
 ney, and the events of the peace. 
 
 The political events of the revolution produced 
 upon its enemies very different effects from those 
 which have been mentioned. 
 
 The hypochondriasis of Doctor Cullen occurred, in 
 many instances, in persons of this description. In 
 some of them, the terror and distress of the revolu- 
 tion brought on a true melancholia.* The causes 
 which produced these diseases may be reduced to 
 four heads. 1. The loss of former power or influ- 
 ence in government. 2. The destruction of the hier- 
 archy of the English church in America. 3. The 
 change in the habits of diet, and company, and man- 
 ners, produced by the annihilation of just debts by 
 means of depreciated papier money. And 4. The 
 neglect, insults, and oppression, to which the loyal- 
 ists were expjosed, from individuals, and, in several 
 instances, from the laws of some of the states. 
 
 It was observed in South Carolina, that several 
 gentlemen, who had protected their estates by swear- 
 ing allegiance to the British government, died soon 
 after the evacuation of Charleston by the British 
 army. Their deaths were ascribed to the neglect 
 witli which they were treated by their ancient 
 ' friends, who had adhered to the government of the 
 United States. The disease was called, by the com- 
 mon people, the protection fever. 
 
 From the causes which produced this hypochon- 
 driasis, I have taken the liberty of distinguishing it 
 by the name of revolutiana. 
 
 In some cases, this disease was rendered fatal by- 
 exile and confinement; and, in others, by those per- 
 sons who were afflicted with it seeking relief from 
 spirituous liquors. 
 
 The termination of the war by the peace in 1783 
 did not terminate the American revolution. The 
 minds of the citizens of the United States were 
 wholly unprepared for their new situation. The 
 excess of the passion for liberty, inflamed by the 
 successful issue of the war, produced, in many peo- 
 ple, opinions and conduct, which could not be re- 
 moved by reason nor restrained by government. 
 For a while, they threatened to render abortive the 
 goodness of Heaven to the United States, in deliver- 
 ing them from the evils of slavery and war. The 
 extensive influence which these opinions had upon 
 the understandings, passions, and morals of many of 
 ' the citizens of the United States, constituted a form 
 : of insanity, which I shall take the liberty of distin- 
 guishing by the name of anarchia. 
 
 I hope no offence will be given by the freedom of 
 : any of these remarks. An inquirer after philosophi- 
 cal truth should consider the passions of men in the 
 same light that he does the laws of matter or mo- 
 tion. The friends and enemies of the American 
 revolution must have been more, or less, than men, 
 if they could have sustained the magnitude and ra- 
 pidity of the events that characterised it, without 
 discovering some marks of human weakness, both in 
 body and mind. Perhaps these weaknesses were 
 ' permitted, that human nature might receive fresh 
 I honours in America, by the contending parties (whe- 
 ther produced by the controversies about independ- 
 ence or the national government) mutually forgiving 
 
 i * Insania partialis sine dyspepsia, of Doctor Cullen. 
 
BENJAMIN RUSH. 
 
 269 
 
 each other, and uniting in plans of general order and 
 happiness. 
 
 EIOGBArmCAL ANECDOTES OF ANTHONY BENE7.ET. 
 
 This excellent man was placed by his friends in 
 early life in a counting-house, but finding commerce 
 opened temptations to a worldly spirit, he left his 
 master, and bound himself as an apprentice to a 
 cooper. Finding this business too laborious for his 
 constitution, he declined it, and .devoted himself to 
 school-keeping; in which useful employment he 
 continued during the greatest part of his life. 
 
 He possessed uncommon activity and industry in 
 every thing he undertook. He did every tiling as 
 if the words of his Saviour were perpetually sound- 
 ing in his ears, " wist ye not, that I must be about 
 my Father's business?" 
 
 He used to say, " the highest act of charity in the 
 world was to bear with the unreasonableness of 
 mankind." 
 
 He generally wore plush clothes, and gave as a 
 reason for it, that after he had worn them for two 
 or three years, they made comfortable and decent 
 garments for the poor. 
 
 He once informed a young friend, that his me- 
 mory began to fail him; " but this," said he, "gives 
 me one great advantage over thee — for thou canst 
 find entertainment in reading a good book only once 
 — but I enjoy that pleasure as often as I read it; 
 for it is always new to me." 
 
 He published several valuable tracts in favour of 
 the emancipation of the blacks, and of the civilizing 
 and christianizing the Indians. He also published a 
 pamphlet against the use of ardent spirits. All 
 these publications were circulated with great indus- 
 try, and at his own expense, throughout every part 
 of the United States. 
 
 He wrote letters to the queen of Great-Britain, 
 and to the queen of Portugal, to use their influence 
 with their respective courts to abolish the African 
 trade. He accompanied his letter to the queen of 
 Great-Britain with a present of his works. The 
 queen received them with great politeness, and said 
 after reading them " that the author appeared to be 
 a very good man." 
 
 He also wrote a letter to the king of Prussia, in 
 which he endeavoured to convince him of the unlaw- 
 fulness of war. 
 
 During the time the British army was in posses- 
 sion of the city of Philadelphia, he was indefatigable 
 in his endeavours to render the situation of the per- 
 sons who suffered from captivity as easy as possible. 
 He knew no fear in the presence of his fellow men, 
 however dignified they were by titles or station, 
 and such were the propriety and gentleness of his 
 manners in his intercourse with the gentlemen who 
 commanded the British and German troops, that 
 when he could not obtain the objects of his requests, 
 he never failed to secure their civilities, and fre- 
 quently their esteem. 
 
 So great was his sympathy with every thing that 
 was capable of feeling pain, that he resolved, towards 
 the close of his life, to eat no animal food. Upon 
 coming into his brother's house one day, when his 
 family was dining upon poultry, he was asked by 
 his brother's wife, to sit down and dine with them. 
 "What! (said he) would you have me eat my 
 neighbours?" 
 
 This misapplication of a moral feeling was sup- 
 posed to have brought on such a debility in his sto- 
 mach and bowels, as produced a disease in those 
 parts of which he finally died. 
 
 Few men, since the days of the apostles, ever lived 
 a more disinterested life. And yet, upon his death- 
 
 bed, he said, he wished to live a little longer, that 
 " he might bring down self." 
 
 The last time he ever walked across his room, was 
 to take from his desk six dollars, which he gave to a 
 poor widow whom he had long assisted to maintain. 
 
 He bequeathed after the death of his widow, a 
 house anil lot in which consisted his whole estate, to 
 the support of a school for the education of negro 
 children, which he had founded and taught for seve- 
 ral years before his death. 
 
 He died in May, 1784, in the "71st year of his age. 
 
 His funeral was attended by persons of all reli- 
 gious denominations, and by many hundred black 
 people. 
 
 Colonel J n, who had served in the American 
 
 army during the late war, in returning from the 
 funeral, pronounced an eulogiumupon him. It con- 
 sisted only of the following words: "I would ra- 
 ther," said he, " be Anthony Benezet in that coffin, 
 than George Washington with all his fame." 
 
 July 15, 1788. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL ANECDOTE OF BENJAMIN LAY. 
 
 There was a time when the name of this celebrated 
 Christian philosopher w r as familiar to every man, 
 woman, and to nearly every child, in Pennsylvania. 
 His size, which was not much above four feet, his 
 dress, which was always the same, consisting of 
 light-coloured plain clothes, a white hat, and half- 
 boots; — his milk-white beard, which hung upon his 
 breast ; and, above all, his peculiar principles and 
 conduct, rendered him to many, an object of admi- 
 ration, and to all, the subject of conversation. 
 
 He was born in England, and spent the early part 
 of his life at sea. His first settlement was in Bar- 
 badoes, as a merchant, where he was soon convinced 
 of the iniquity of the slave trade. He bore au open 
 testimony against it, in all companies, by which 
 means he rendered himself so unpopular, that he left 
 the island in disgust, and settled in the then pro- 
 vince of Pennsylvania. He fixed his home at Abing- 
 tou, ten miles from Philadelphia, from whence he 
 made frequent excursions to the city, and to differ- 
 ent parts of the country. 
 
 At the time of his arrival in Pennsylvania, he 
 found many of his brethren, the people called Qua- 
 kers, had fallen so far from their original principles, 
 as to keep negro slaves. He remonstrated with 
 them, both publicly and privately, against the prac- 
 tice ; but, frequently with so much indiscreet zeal, as 
 to give great offence. He often disturbed their 
 public meetings, by interrupting or opposing their 
 preachers, for which he was once carried out of a 
 meeting-house, by two or three friends. Upon this 
 occasion he submitted with patience to what he con- 
 sidered a species of persecution. He lay down at 
 the door of the meeting-house, in a shower of rain, 
 till divine worship was ended; nor could he be 
 prevailed upon to rise, till the whole congregation 
 had stepped over him in their way to their respect- 
 ive homes. 
 
 To show his indignation against the practice of 
 slave-keeping, he once carried a bladder filled with 
 blood into a meeting; and, in the presence of the 
 whole congregation, thrust a sword, which he had 
 concealed under his coat, into the bladder, exclaim- 
 ing, at the same time, "Thus shall God shed the 
 blood of those persons who enslave their fellow- 
 creatures." The terror of this extravagant and un- 
 expected act, produced swoonings in several of the 
 women of the congregation. 
 
 He once went into the house of a friend in Phila- 
 delphia, and found him seated at breakfast, with his 
 family around him. Being asked by him to sit down 
 and breakfast with them, he said, " Dost thou keep 
 
270 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 slaves in thy house ?" Upon being answered in the 
 affirmative, he said, " Then I will not partake with 
 thee, of the fruits of thy unrighteousness." 
 
 He took great pains to convince a farmer and his 
 wife, in Chester county, of the iniquity of keeping 
 negro slaves, but to no purpose. They not only 
 kept their slaves, but defended the practice. One 
 day he went into their house, and after a short dis- 
 course with them upon the wickedness, and parti- 
 cularly the inhumanity of separating children from 
 their parents, which was involved in the slave trade, 
 he seized the only child of the family, (a little girl 
 about three years old) and pretended to run away 
 with her. The child cried bitterly, " I will be good 
 — I will be good," and the parents showed signs of 
 being alarmed. Upon observing this scene, Mr. Lay 
 said, very emphatically, " You see and feel now a 
 Utile of the distress you occasion every daj*, by the 
 inhuman practice of slave-keeping." 
 
 This singular philosopher did not limit his pions 
 testimony against vice, to slave-keeping, alone. He 
 was opposed to every species of extravagance. Upon 
 the introduction of tea, as an article of diet, into 
 Pennsylvania, his wife bought a small quantity of 
 it, with a set of cups and saucers, and brought them 
 home with her. Mr. Lay took them from her, 
 brought them back again to the city, and from the 
 balcony of the court-house scattered the tea, and 
 broke the cups and saucers, in the presence of many 
 hundred spectators, delivering, at the some time, a 
 striking lecture upon the folly of preferring that 
 foreign herb, with its expensive appurtenances, to 
 the simple and wholesome diet of our country. 
 
 He possessed a good deal of wit, and was quick at 
 repartee. A citizen of Philadelphia, who knew his 
 peculiarities, once met him in a crowd, at a funeral, 
 in Germantown. Being desirous of entering into a 
 conversation with him that should divert the com- 
 pany, the citizen accosted him, with the most re- 
 spectful ceremony, and declared himself to be " his 
 most humble servant." "Art thou my servant?" 
 saidMr. Lay; " Yes, I am!" said the citizen. "Then," 
 said Mr. Lay, (holding up his foot towards him,) 
 " clean this shoe." This unexpected reply turned the 
 laugh upon the citizen. Being desirous of recovering 
 himself in the opinion of the company, he asked him 
 to instruct him in the way to heaven. " Dost thou 
 indeed wish to be taught?" said Mr. Lay. " I do!" 
 said the citizen. " Then," said Mr. Lay, " do justice, 
 love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God." 
 
 He wrote a small treatise upon negro-slavery, 
 which lie brought to Dr. Franklin to be printed. 
 Upon looking over it, the Doctor told him that it 
 was not paged, and that there appeared Jo be no 
 order or arrangement in it. " It is no matter," said 
 Mi'. Lay, "print any part thou pleasest first." This 
 book contained many pious sentiments, and strong 
 expressions against negro slavery; but even the ad- 
 dress and skill of Dr. Franklin were not. sufficient to 
 connect its different parts together so as to render 
 it an agreeable or useful work. This book is in the 
 library of the city of Philadelphia. 
 
 Mr. Lay was extremely attentive to young people. 
 He took great pleasure in visiting schools, where lie 
 often preached to the youth. He frequently carried 
 a basket of religious books witli him, and distributed 
 them as prizes among the scholars. 
 
 He was fond of reading. In the print of him, 
 which is to be seen in many houses in Philadelphia, 
 he is represented with " Tryon on Happiness" in his 
 hand, a book which he valued very much, and which 
 he frequently carried with him in his excursions 
 from home. 
 
 He was kind and charitable to the poor, but had 
 no compassion for beggars. He used to say, " there 
 
 was no man or woman, who was able to go abroad 
 to beg, that was not able to earn four pence a day, 
 and this sum, he said, was enough to keep any per- 
 son above want or dependence in this country." 
 
 He was a severe enemy to idleness, insomuch that 
 when he could not employ himself out of doors, or 
 when he was tired of reading, he used to spend his 
 time in spinning. His common sitting-room was 
 hung witli skeins of thread, spun entirely by him- 
 self. All his clothes were of his own manufactory. 
 
 He was extremely temperate in his diet, living 
 chiefly upon vegetables. Turnips boiled, and after- 
 wards roasted, were his favourite dinner. His drink 
 was pure water. From a desire of imitating our Sa- 
 viour in every thing he once attempted to fast for 
 forty days. This experiment, it is said, had nearly 
 cost him his life. He was obliged to desist from it 
 long before the forty days were expired ; but the 
 fasting, it was said, so much debilitated his body as 
 to accelerate his death. He lived above eighty • 
 years, and died in his own house in Abington, about 
 thirty years ago. 
 
 In reviewing the history of this extraordinary 
 man, we cannot help absolving him of his weak- 
 nesses, when we contemplate his many active vir- 
 tues. He was the piioneer of that war, which has 
 since been carried on so successfully against the 
 commerce and slavery of the negroes. Perhaps the 
 turbulence and severity of his temper were neces- 
 sary to rouse the torpor of the human mind, at the 
 period in which he lived, to this interesting subject. 
 The meekness and gentleness of Anthony Benezet, 
 who completed what Mr. Lay began, would pro- 
 bably have been as insufficient for the work per- 
 formed by Mr. Lay, as the humble piety of De 
 Renty, or of Thomas A'Kempis, would have been to 
 have accomplished the works of the zealous Luther, 
 or the intrepid Knox, in the sixteenth century. 
 
 The success of Mr. La}-, in sowing the seeds of a 
 principle which bids fair to produce a revolution in 
 morals, commerce, and government, in the new and 
 in the old world, should teach the benefactors of 
 mankind not to despair, if they do not see the fruits 
 of their benevolent propositions, or undertakings, 
 during their lives. No one seed of truth or virtue 
 ever perished. "Wherever it may be sowed, or even 
 scattered, it will preserve and carry with it the 
 principle of life. Some of these seeds produce their 
 fruits in a short time, but the most valuable of them, 
 like the venerable oak, are centuries in growing; 
 but they are unlike the pride of the forest, as well 
 as all other vegetable productions, in being incapa- 
 ble of a decay. They exist and bloom for ever. 
 February 10th, 1790. 
 
 COLLEGE OF NEW JEKSEY. 
 In the division of the Presbyterian Church, con- 
 nected with the Whitefield revival or agitation, 
 which occurred in America in 1741, the future 
 education of the clergy became a matter of im- 
 portant consideration ; and New Jersey belonging 
 to the Synod of New York in the separation 
 from the Synod of Philadelphia, it was determined 
 to establish a seat of learning in the former state. 
 The religious education of the new Church party 
 had been more effectively than ostentatiously 
 provided for at the school established by the Rev. 
 William Tennent at Neshaminy, known as the 
 Log College, which had sent forth from its hum- 
 ble doorway several eminent divines and preach- 
 ers.* The decline of this seminary with the age 
 
 * Its history has been ivritten by Dr. Archibald Alexander. 
 "WillUun Tennent, Se-n'r, was a native of Ireland and belonged 
 
COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY. 
 
 271 
 
 of its founder, and the unfortunate expulsion of 
 the pious Brainerd from Yale, hastened the work 
 of preparation for the College of New Jersey. 
 A charter was obtained with difficulty in 1740,* 
 the peculiar religions interests of the applicants 
 being little regarded in New Jersey. Jonathan 
 Dickinson, a native of Massachusetts and gradu- 
 ate of Yale, acted as its first President, at Eliza- 
 bethtown, where he was settled as a clergyman 
 for a short time, till his death in 17-17, within a 
 year of the organization. He was a man of 
 ability as a preacher, and left a large number of 
 sermons and theological publications. A new 
 charter was now obtained from Governor Bel- 
 cher! in 1748, and the Rev. Aaron Burr was 
 chosen President. This pious man, the friend of 
 "Whitefield, and the son-in-law of Jonathan Ed- 
 wards, was the father of the subsequent unhappy 
 politician who bore his name, lie was born in 
 Connecticut in 1716, and arrived at the College 
 of New Jersey through his settlement as a cler- 
 gyman at Newark, where the College was held 
 during his life. He died in 1757, in which year 
 the institution was removed to Princeton. Burr's 
 character is spoken of with great admiration for 
 his energy in allairs, his happy temper and pulpit 
 eloquence.}: President Burr prepared a Latin 
 
 originally to the Episcopal Church. Whitefield visited his 
 school at Neshaminy in 1730, and speaks of "the place wherein 
 the young men study, in con tempt called the College." It was 
 a simple back-country structure i>f the log-cabin order. 
 
 * Hist. Sketch of the Origin of the College of New Jersey, 
 by Ashbel Green. Notes to. Discourses, 2S3. 
 
 t Jonathan Belcher was a man of spirit in the Colonial annals. 
 He was born in 1681, of a good family at Cambridge, Mass., 
 was graduated at the College, travelled in Europe, and lived 
 at Boston as a merchant on his return, till he was appointed to 
 the Government of Massachusetts in 1730. He was a good 
 scholar. His frankness and energy caused his removal from 
 office, when the Government of New Jersey was given him, 
 where he lived ten years, dying in office in 1757. "His friend 
 Aaron Burr at Princeton preached bis sermon a few days only 
 before his own death. 
 
 X Burr is buried in the graveyard at Princeton, where his 
 son at last came to be laid beside him. The Latin inscription 
 on his monument is of more than usual eloquence. The ceno- 
 taphs at Princeton are noticeable in this particular. 
 
 Quasris Viator qualis quantusque fuit? 
 
 Perpaucis accipe. 
 
 Vir corporcparvo et tenui, 
 
 Studiis, vigiliis, assiduisque laboribus, 
 
 Macro. 
 
 Sagacitate, Perspicacitate, Agilita'.e, 
 
 Ac Solertia (si fas dieere), 
 
 Plusquam humana, pene 
 
 Angelica, 
 
 Animii ferine totus. 
 
 Omnigena Lileratuia instructus, 
 
 Theologia pnestantior : 
 
 Concionator volubilis, suavis et suadus : 
 
 Orator faeundus. 
 
 Moiibus facilis, candidus et jueumlns, 
 
 Vita egregie liberalis ac beneficus : 
 
 Supra vero omnia emicaerunt 
 
 Pietas et Benevoleotia. 
 
 Sed ah ! quanta et quota Ingenii, 
 
 Industrial, Prudentise, Patientiie, 
 
 Caiterarumque omnium Virtutnm 
 
 Exemplar! a, 
 
 Marmoris sepulclualis August ia 
 
 Reticebit. 
 
 Multum desideratus, multum 
 
 Dilectus, 
 
 Human! generis Delieia 1 . 
 
 0! infandum sni Desiderium, 
 
 Gemit Ecclcsia. plorat 
 
 Academia: 
 
 At Ccelum plaudit, dum ille 
 
 Ingreditur 
 
 In Gaudium Domini 
 
 Dulce loqucntis, 
 Euge bone et fidelts _\ 
 Serve! , , 
 
 AM Viator tuam rospice Bta 
 
 grammar, published in New York in 1752, which 
 was u-edin the College and known as the." New- 
 ark Grammar ;" and as a specimen of his La- 
 tinity there is extant in manuscript an oration in 
 that language which he delivered in Newark be- 
 fore the Board of Trustees on the death of Dr. 
 Philip Doddridge, who had been a friend of the 
 College.* The Eulogium on his Death, by Wil- 
 liam Livingston, celebrates his virtues and acute- 
 ness with animated panegyric.t 
 
 Burr was succeeded by the eminent metaphysi- 
 cian, Jonathan Edwards, who arrived from Stock- 
 bridge in 1758, and whose death occurred, when 
 he had scarcely entered upon his new duties, but 
 a few months later. The Rev. Samuel Davies, a 
 native of Pennsylvania, was called from Virginia, 
 where he had passed a distinguished career as a 
 faithful and eloquent preacher, to the post in 1758. 
 He had previously visited England with the Rev. 
 Gilbert Tennent,! in a successful tour for contribu- 
 tions. The College building erected in 1756 with 
 the funds thus collected, was at first to be called 
 Belcher Hall, but the "Governor, modestly setting 
 aside his own claims, gave it the name of Nassau 
 Hall, in honor of the great Protestant hero Wil- 
 liam III. It has been said to have been the best 
 college structure in its time in the country, and 
 the largest single edifice in the colonies.§ De- 
 clining this first appointment Davies was elected 
 again in 1759, when he left Hanover, where his 
 intluence was very great, and entered upon the 
 duties of the Presidency, which he held till his 
 death, only a year and a half after, in 1701, at 
 the early age of thirty-six. His reputation as an 
 ardent missionary and zealous preacher was very 
 great, and his personal character greatly strength- 
 ened the college. His early discourses on the 
 Expedition of Braddock, in a note to one of which 
 in August, 1755, entitled u Religion and Patriot- 
 ism the Constituents of a Good Soldier," he pro- 
 phetically "points out to the public that heroic 
 youth, Col. Washington, whom I cannot but hope 
 Providence has hitherto preserved in so signal a 
 manner for some important service to his country, 11 
 and a third addressed to the Militia of Hanover 
 
 *Dr. J. F. Stearns's Hist. Discourse relating to the First Pres- 
 byterian Church in Newark, p. 1*8. There are numerous dis- 
 tinct ami forcible notices of Burr in this book. 
 
 t A Funeral Eulogium on the Reverend Mr. Aaron Burr, 
 late President of the "College of New Jersey, by William Liv- 
 ingston, Esq. 
 
 Of comfort no man speak ! 
 Let's talk of graves, and worms, and epitaphs, 
 Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes, 
 Write sorrow in the bosom of the earth. Siiaks, 
 
 Stat sua euique dies; breve et irreparabile tempus 
 Omnibus est vita? : sed famam cxtcudere factis, 
 Hoc virtutis opus. 
 
 New York, Printed: Boston; Reprinted by Green and Rus- 
 sell in Queen street, for J. Winter, iu Union-street 175$. 4to. 
 pp. 23. 
 
 t Tennent was of much celebrity in his day ns a follower of 
 Whitefield. He affected some eccentricity in his preaching, 
 entering the pulpit on liis New England tour in an overcoat 
 bound with a leathern girdle, and with long hair. His elo- 
 quence was in the line of the terrific. Whitefield, who was 
 with Tennent in New York in 1739, has described his preach- 
 ing: " never before heard I such a searching sermon. He went 
 to the bottom, indeed, and did not d;mb with untempered mor- 
 tar. He is 'a son of thunder,' and does not regard the face of 
 man." With his energy he sometimes forgot courtesy and 
 Christian humility, and was very abusive. Dr. Alexander fur- 
 nishes a list of his publications. — History of the Log College, 
 91-94. 
 
 § Dr. Jns. W. Alexander's MS. Centennial Discourse at 
 Princeton, 1S46. 
 
272 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Co., at a general muster in May, 1759, when his 
 eloquence at once filled the ranks, have connected 
 his name with the public history of his country. 
 He published numerous sermons, a collection of 
 ■which in three volnmes " on the most useful and 
 important subjects" has been much read. His 
 style was warm and passionate. 
 
 Davies was not only an energetic declaimer of 
 poetic prose, but wrote verses of considerable ex- 
 cellence. His elegy on the death of his old pre- 
 ceptor, Samuel Blair,* with its warmth of feeling 
 shows a modern taste in composition which may 
 be contrasted with the cramped effusions of a simi- 
 lar character of which we have given specimens 
 in the old Puritan literature. 
 
 Blair is no more — then this poor world has 
 
 lost 
 As rich a jewel as her stores could boast; 
 Heaven, in just vengeance, has recalled again, 
 Its faithful envoy, from the sons of men, 
 Advanced him from his pious toils below, 
 In raptures there, in kindred plains to glow. 
 
 had not the mournful news divulged, 
 My mind had still the pleasing dream indulged — 
 Still fancied Blair, with health and vigor blessed, 
 With some grand purpose laboring in his breast. 
 In studious thought, pursuing truth divine, 
 Till the full demonstration round him shine; 
 Or, from the sacred desk, proclaiming loud, 
 His Master's message, to the attentive crowd, 
 While heavenly truth with bright conviction glares, 
 And coward error shrinks, and disappears; 
 While quick remorse, the hardy sinner feels, 
 And Calv'ry's balm, the bleeding conscience heals. f 
 
 In 1769, the Rev. Dr. Thomas Gibbons, who 
 was the London editor of Davies's Sermons, pub- 
 lished a Collection of Hymns in which there are 
 fifteen assigned to Davies. These were found 
 among the manuscripts of the latter. Two of 
 them may be quoted as well for their historical 
 as their devotional interest. 
 
 NATIONAL JUDGMENTS DEr-EECATEP, AND NATIONAL JIEECTES 
 PLEADED.^ 
 
 While o'er our guilty land, Lord, 
 We view the terrors of thy sword ; 
 While heav'n its fruitful sliow'rs denies, 
 And nature round us fades and dies ; 
 
 * Samuel Blair was born in Ireland, came to America as a 
 youth, and was educated at the Log College. He was settled 
 as a preacher at Shrewsbury, New Jersey, and in New Lon- 
 donderry, or Fogg's Manor, in Pennsylvania, where lie formed 
 a classical school in which Davies, the Rev. John Eodgers, and 
 other divines, were educated. He died young, at 1 he age of 
 thirty-nine. His tomb at Fogg's Manor bears the inscription — 
 
 In yonder sacred house I spent my breath,- 
 Now sileiit, mouldering, here I lie in death; 
 These lips shall wake aiid yet declare, 
 A dread amen to truths they published there. 
 
 John Blair, his brother, was Professor of Divinity at the College 
 of New Jersey, 17G7 to 1769. One of his sisters married the 
 Kev. Robert Smith of Pequea, the father of President Smith of 
 the College, of John Blair Smith, and of the Rev. William 
 Smith. 
 
 t We are indebted for this extract to Dr. Alexander's Log 
 College, as we are for the knowledge of the hymns which' fol- 
 low, to his son, Dr. James W. Alexander. Davies's elegy was 
 published in a volume of the writings of the Rev. Samuel Blair, 
 Philadelphia, 1754. 
 
 % This and the following Hymn were printed by the Author, 
 with two Discourses on Amos iii. 1-6. entitled Virginia's.Zlo"?!- 
 ger and Iirtnedy^niX occasioned by the severe Drought in sun- 
 dry Parts of that Country, and the defeat of General Brad- 
 doek, 1756.— Gibbon's note. 
 
 While clouds collecting o'er our head 
 Seem eharg'd with wrath to smite us dead, 
 Oh! whither shall the helpless fly ? 
 To whom but thee direct our cry ? 
 
 m. 
 
 The helpless sinner's cries and tears 
 Are grown familiar to thine ears; 
 Oft has thy mercy sent relief, 
 When all was fear and hopeless grief: 
 
 rv. 
 On thee our guardian God we call, 
 Before thy throne of grace we fall ; 
 And is there no deliv'rance there ? 
 And must we perish in despair ? 
 
 v. 
 See, we repent, we weep, we mourn, 
 To our forsaken God we turn ; 
 spare our guilty country, spare 
 The church which thou hast jilanted here ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Revive our with'ring fields with rain, , 
 
 Let peace compose our land again, 
 Silence the horrid noise of war! 
 spare a guilty people, spare ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 We plead tliy grace, indulgent God, 
 We plead thy Son's atoning blood, 
 We plead thy gracious promises, 
 And are they unavailing pleas? 
 
 vm. 
 
 These pleas, by faith urg'd at thy throne. 
 Have brought ten thousand blessings down 
 On guilty lands in helpless woe; 
 Let them prevail to save us too ! 
 
 ON THE SAME, 
 
 I. 
 
 While various rumours spread abroad, 
 And hold our souls in dread suspense, 
 
 We look, we fly to thee our God ; 
 Our refuge is thy Providence. 
 
 it. 
 This wilderness, so long untill'd, 
 
 An hideous waste of barren ground, 
 Thy care has made a fruitful field, 
 
 With peace and plenty richly erown'd. 
 
 in. 
 Thy Gospel spreads an heav'nly day 
 
 Throughout this once benighted land, 
 A Land once wild with beasts of prey, 
 
 By impious heathen rites profan'd ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thy Gospel, like a gen'rous vine, 
 Its branches wide began to spread, 
 
 Refresh'd our souls with heav'nly wine, 
 And bless'd us with its cooling shade ; 
 
 A:id shall these mercies now remove ? 
 
 SJltall peace and plenty fly away? 
 The laud, that Ilenv'n did thus improve, 
 
 Wil.' Heav'n give up an helpless Prey? 
 
 VI. 
 
 must we bid our God adieu? 
 
 And must the Gospel take its flight? 
 shall r L children never view 
 
 The 'flniejfngs of that heav'nly light? 
 
COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY. 
 
 Forbid it, Lord ; with arms of faith 
 
 We'll holil thee fast, and thou slialt stay 
 
 We'll cry while we have life or breath, 
 Our God, do not depart away I 
 
 VIII. 
 
 If broken hearts and weeping eyes 
 Can find acceptance at thy throne, 
 
 Lo, here they are; this sacrifice 
 
 Tliou wilt accept thro' Christ thy Son. 
 
 The Rev. Samuel Finley succeeded to the Pre- 
 sidency at Princeton. He was of Irish birth, 
 coming early to America, had taken part in the 
 White-field revival, and was settled as a clergyman 
 at Nottingham in Maryland for seventeen years, 
 when he was called to the office. Ho instituted 
 an academy at Nottingham, where his scholar- 
 ship had brought around him a number of pupils 
 who afterwards became men of distinction.* Fin- 
 ley was an assiduous College President, and when, 
 
 as with his predecessors, his term of office was 
 briefly closed, his remains were carried to his grave 
 at Philadelphia where he died, borne, according 
 to his request, by eight members of the senior 
 class of the College of New Jersey. 
 
 Finley's death occurred in 1766, when Dr. 
 Witherspoon was invited to the Presidency from 
 Scotland. He came and was inaugurated in 1768. 
 He enlarged the field of the college by promoting 
 the study of mathematics and mental philosophy. 
 During the Revolution the President was trans- 
 ferred in Congress to a wider sphere. 
 
 Immediately after the battle of Princeton, in 
 1777, the College became the scene of a conflict 
 between its British occupants and a portion of the 
 army of Washington. In the chapel iii Nassau Hall 
 hung at this time a portrait of George II., which 
 was destroyed by an American cannon-shot parsing 
 through the canvas. Within the same frame now 
 hangs a portrait of Washington, painted by Peale, 
 and purchased with the fifty guineas which were 
 presented to the College by the General after the 
 conflict. The British plundered the library. Some 
 of the books were afterwards found in North Caro- 
 lina, left there by the troops of Cornwallis.* 
 
 There is a picture of the College in the opening 
 
 * Ashbel Green's Memoirs, pp. 136, 144. This old North 
 College, the original Nassau Hall, which had thus suffered the 
 attack of the troops, was nearly destroy* d by fire in 1812. 
 Again, in 1S55, on the evening of March 9 it was entirely 
 burnt, the walls only being left standing. The pictures in the 
 College Gallery were fortunately preserved. 
 VOL. I. — 18 
 
 days of the Revolution, by John Adams, in his diary 
 of the date of Aug. 26, 1774, when the young law- 
 yer was on his way to the Continental Congress. 
 
 The college is conveniently constructed; instead 
 of entries across the building, the entries are from 
 end to end, and the chambers are on each side of 
 the entries. There are such entries, one above 
 another, in every story; each chamber hns three 
 windows, two Btudies with one window in ench, and 
 one window between the studies to enlighten the 
 chamber. Mr. Euston, the Professor of Mathematics 
 and Natural Philosophy, showed us the library; it 
 is not large, but, has some good books. He then led 
 us into the apparatus ; here we saw a most beauti- 
 ful machine — an orrery or planetarium, constructed 
 by Mr. Rittenhouse of Philadelphia. By this time 
 the bell rang for prayers; we went into the chapel; 
 the President soon came in. and we attended. The 
 scholars sing as badly as the Presbyterians at New 
 York, After prayers the President attended us to 
 the balcony of the college, where we have a pros- 
 pect of a horizon of about eighty miles' diameter. 
 
 On the establishment of peace, Dr. Samuel 
 Stanhope Smith, the vice-president, became the 
 acting governor of the College, and on the death 
 of Witherspoon in 1794, its head. He held the 
 
 * "His method of instruction in the Latin anil Greek lan- 
 guages was thorough and accurate. Dr. Finley boarded most 
 of the scholars in his own house, and when they were at meals 
 he was in the habit of relaxing from the severity of the peda- 
 gogue, and indulging in facetious remarks, saying that nothing 
 more helped digestion than a hearty laugh. His own temper 
 was remarkably benignant and sweet, and his manners affable 
 and polite.'' — Alexander's Log College, p. 306. 
 
274 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 position until he resigned it, from the infirmities 
 of age, in 1812. • 
 
 Samuel Stanhope Smith, "whose accomplish- 
 ments were the delight of the lust generation of 
 scholars and divines, was the son ot a minister in 
 Pennsylvania, Br. Robert Smith, of Scoto-Irish 
 descent, who can.e to this country in his child- 
 hood, — a man oi' education ami character. Two 
 erf his sons became quite noted in the literary and 
 religious affairs of America : John Llair Smith, an 
 eloquent preacher in Virginia, and the first presi- 
 dent of Union College ; and Samuel Stanbope 
 Smith, the president of Princeton. The latter 
 was born at Pequea, Lancaster county, Pennsyl- 
 vania, the seat of his father's pastoral duties, 
 March 16, 1750; studied at Princeton; was the 
 first head of the Presbyterian Theological College 
 of Hampden Sidney, in Viiginia; was called in 
 1799 to the chair of moral philosophy at Prince- 
 ton, and succeeded Witherspoon, his father-in-law, 
 in the presidency, on his death in 1794. He re- 
 signed this office on account of ill health in 1812. 
 He died August 21, 1819. 
 
 The best known of bis literary productions is 
 his Essay on the Causes of the Variety of Com- 
 plexion and Figure in the Human Species, which 
 he published in 1788, and a second edition of 
 which, enlarged with a reply to his English 
 critic, Charles White, and some strictures on 
 Lord Karnes's Discourse on the Original Diversity 
 of Mankind, appeared in 1810. Tbe argument 
 of this work is, a defence of tbe unity of the race, 
 accounting for the varieties by the influences of 
 climate, of the state of society, and tbe manner of 
 living. Though superseded by other works in 
 tbe great advance of the knowledge of facts and 
 study of Ethnology, this work may still be read 
 with interest for the amenity of its style and the 
 ingenuity of its views. 
 
 The late Dr. Alexander, in his memoirs, lias 
 left us a distinct account of the impression of 
 President Smith upon his contemporaries. He 
 describes his appearance at Prineeton in 1801 : 
 "Certainly, viewing him as in his meridian, I 
 have never seen his equal in elegance of person 
 and manners. Dignity and winning grace were 
 remarkably united in his expressive countenance. 
 His large blue eye hail a penetration which com- 
 manded the respect of all beholders. Notwith- 
 standing the want of health, his cheek had a 
 bright rosy tint, and his smile lighted up the 
 whole face. The tones of his elocution had a 
 thrilling peculiarity, and this was more remarka- 
 ble in his preaching, where it is well known that 
 he imitated the elaborate polish and satirical 
 glow of the French school.''* 
 
 Ashbel Green, who succeeded to President 
 Smith, was a native of New Jersey, horn at 
 Hanover, July 6, 1702. He was a graduate of 
 the College of 1783; entered the ministry; was 
 professor of mathematics and natural philosophy 
 in Princeton from 1785 to 1787 ; was chaplain 
 to Congress in Philadelphia from 1792 to 1800, a 
 position which brought him into relation with 
 Washington, whom he had seen in the field in his 
 
 * The Life of Archibald Alexander, p 2f5. Dr. James W. 
 Alexander notices Smith's bearing at Princeton, and his 
 French style, '■ in which endeavor his most celebrated pupil 
 was the Itev. Dr. Henry Kollock. one of the most ornate yet 
 vehement orators whoih our country has produced." lb. p. 309. 
 
 early militia days in New Jersey, and the best 
 society of the day ; was e ected to the presidency 
 of the College of New Jersey in 1812, which he 
 occupied for ten years, — the marked incidents of 
 his career being the great insubordination and re- 
 vival ; on his retirement, conducting a Pre>byte- 
 rian religious journal, the Christian Advocate, in 
 Philadelphia, for twelve years; in his subset] tunt 
 leisure preparing amemoir of Witherspoon, which 
 is still in manuscript; and at the age of tighty- 
 two commencing an autobiography, which he 
 continued to write till within two years of his 
 death, which occurred in his eighty-sixth year, 
 May 19, 1848. His chief publications are the 
 periodical which we have mentioned, his posthu- 
 mous autobiography, and a collectim of his dis- 
 courses, with an appendix, containing among 
 other articles a history of his college, and 
 tributes to its presidents, which appeared in 
 Philadelphia in 1822. He had been also engaged 
 in revising for the American market the articles 
 in Eees's and tin. Edinburgh Encyclopaedias, for 
 which, he tells us, he received as compensation a 
 set of the works. His autobiography ci nlains 
 much devotional matter, a few anecdotes of 
 Washington and ins early "court" days, and 
 an interesting diary of a tour which he made into 
 New England in the summer of 1791* He was 
 a polished writer. His portrait shows a fine 
 dark eye, which, though he was an amiable man, 
 contributed to the severity of bis countenance, 
 according to the college reputation of his austere 
 appearance.f 
 
 Dr. Green was succeeded in the year 1823 1 y T the 
 Eev. James Carnahan, D.D., who held the chair 
 more than thirty years; probably the period most 
 marked by prosperity ; which it has largely e wed 
 to tbe fidelity, diligence, wisdom, and txem] lary 
 gentleness of this excellent man. President Car- 
 naban is reputed an excellent classical scholar, 
 and a sound leather of philosophy and religion. 
 Less brilliant than his predecessors, he brought to 
 the service erf education a balance and constancy 
 of solid qualities, and an administrative talent in 
 finance which, joined to proverbial truth and 
 uprightness, have made his green old age pecu- 
 liarly honorable. His agreeable retirement is 
 within sight of the Tusculum of Witherspoon, 
 
 Tbe tenth president is the Eev. John Maclean, 
 D.D., who was inaugurated in 1854. The pre- 
 sent condition of Princeton College is prosperous 
 in a high degree. In the departments of Mathe- 
 matics and Physical Science, it has acquired some 
 iclat from the methods and labors of Professor 
 Henry, now of the Smithsonian Institution, but 
 again professor elect in the college, and the 
 eminent astronomer, Stephen Alexander. The 
 beauty of the grounds, presenting a certain clois- 
 tered shadiness, reminding one e>f certain scenes 
 in Oxford, together with a position midway be- 
 tween tbe great cities, continues to make this a 
 favorite re-ort. The entire number of alumni 
 has been 3,390, of whom 2,023 are now living. 
 Among its graduates, besides some named above, 
 
 * It was published with a continuation after his death : — 
 "The Life of Ashbel Green, V. D. M., berun to be written by 
 himself in his S2d year, and continued till his Mih. Pr. pared 
 for the press, at the authors request, by Joseph II. Jones. 
 New York. 1S49." 
 
 t Parish and other Pencilliugs, by Kirwan, p. 135. 
 
JOHN WITHERSPOON. 
 
 275 
 
 are the two Richard Stocktons, President Reed 
 of Pa.', Dr. Benjamin Rush, William Patterson, 
 Tapping Reeve, Francis Ilopkinson, David Ram- 
 say, Oliver Ellsworth, Dr. Samuel Spring, Pier- 
 pont Edwards, Hugh H. Braekenridge, James 
 Madison, Pres. of U. S., Aaron Bnrr, Henry Lee, 
 Morgan Lewis, Edward Livingston, John Ser- 
 geant, Samuel L. Southard, and Theodore Freling- 
 huysen. 
 
 Of the old professors in this institution, Dr. 
 John Maclean was one of the most distinguished. 
 He rilled the chairs of Chemistry and Natural 
 History, and of Mathematics and Natural Philoso- 
 phy, with much distinction, from 1795 to 1812. 
 He was a native of Scotland, and had studied 
 the sciences in Paris. Dr. Archibald Alexander 
 speaks of him as " the soul of the Faculty " at 
 Princeton, and records his claim as "one of 
 the first to reproduce in America the views of the 
 new French school in Chemistry, a subject on 
 which he waged a successful war with Dr. 
 Priestley, the great champion for phlogiston.''* 
 
 Walter Minto was professor in the College of 
 New Jersey from 1787 to 1796. He was a 
 Scotchman of good family and great science. 
 His early life had been eventful ; for after his 
 university curriculum, he became tutor of the 
 two sons of the Hon. George Johnstone, M.P., 
 well known in Jamaica, and as Commissioner to 
 this country in 1778; and with them he travelled 
 over much of Europe, and lived awhile at Pisa. 
 Here he became acquainted with Dr. Slop, the 
 astronomer, and through him with the then 
 novel applications of the higher analysis to the 
 heavenly motions. Quarrelling with the boys 
 and their father, he remained some years at Pisa, 
 and never afterwards redded in his native 
 country. His only publication was an Inaugu- 
 ral Address on the Mathematical Sciences ; but 
 the college library contains some careful and 
 curious MSS. on Mathematical Analysis.t 
 
 Among the benefactors of the institution have 
 been Col. Henry Rutgers and his family, of New 
 York ; Elias Boudinot, who founded a cabinet 
 of Natural History, and bequeathed the sum of 
 eight thousand dollars and four thousand acres of 
 land; and Dr. David Hosack, one of its alumni, 
 who gave a valuable mineralogical cabinet. In 
 the Philosophic Hall there are preserved the 
 electrical machine of Franklin, and the orrery of 
 Rittenhou.-.e. 
 
 JOHN WITIIERSPOON. 
 
 One of the happiest instances of sterling charac- 
 ter transplanted from the old world to bear genial 
 fruit in the new, at the period of the Revolution, 
 was John Witherspoon, President of the College of 
 New Jersey, and signer of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. He was a man of native force and vigor, 
 which were not overlaid by education or society, 
 though no one knew better how to appreciate both. 
 He had good blood in his veins for the reforma- 
 tion of abuses, since he was lineally descended from 
 old John Knox by his daughter Elizabeth. His 
 father was minister of the parish of Yester, near 
 Edinburgh, where the son was born February 5, 
 
 * Lire of A. Alexander, 2BT. 
 
 t Fur a memoir of Dr. Minto see Princeton Majrazino, vol. 
 1. 53-47. 
 
 1722. At fourteen he entered the University of 
 Edinburgh, where he remained employed in its 
 studies till he was twenty-one, when he was 
 licensed as a preacher. He declined dependence 
 upon his father as his assistant, and became set- 
 tled at Beith, in the west of Scotland. While he 
 was at this parish, the Pretender landed in Scut- 
 land. Witherspoon took the part of his country, 
 and stimulated the raising of a corps of militia, 
 of which he put himself at the head, and marched 
 to Glasgow. He was taken ' prisoner at the 
 battle of Falkirk, and imprisoned in Doune Castle, 
 where he remained until after the battle of Cul- 
 loden; so that he had already acted the patriotic 
 part in the old country* which he was not back- 
 ward in repeating in America. In an effort to 
 escape from the battlements of the castle in which 
 he was imprisoned, with a party of seven, by a 
 rope from the wall, he fortunately drew the lot 
 for the last. Four of the company got safely 
 down; the rope broke with the fifth, and the 
 sixth was much injured, when Witherspoon gave 
 up the attempt. 
 
 Leaving Beith, he became minister in Paisley, 
 whence he was called to the presidency of the 
 college at Princeton, in New Jersey, a post which 
 he accepted, though a rich old bachelor friend 
 offered to make him his heir to a large property 
 if he would remain in Scotland. Benjamin Rush, 
 then a young student at Edinburgh, was dele- 
 gated by the college, of which he was an alumnus, 
 to urge his coming to America. His tastes and 
 principles led him in search of a simpler and more 
 earne-t religious society than presented itself at 
 that time in Scotland, the features of which he 
 set forth with strength and humor in a work, 
 published while he was at Paisley, entitled Eccle- 
 siastical Characteristics,^ and which was admired 
 by Warburton. It was levelled at the moderate 
 party, at the head of whom stood Dr. Robertson, 
 the historian. It is in a series of maxims, ironi- 
 cally bandied, exposing the worldliness of a por- 
 tion of the clergy — a paragraph of which will 
 show his delicate raillery. Pie is rebuking the 
 indifference as to religious services : — 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, it may happen, by a concur- 
 rence of circumstances, that one of us may, at bed- 
 time, be unequally yoked with an orthodox brother, 
 who may propose a little unseasonable devotion be- 
 tween ourselves, before we lie down to sleep: but 
 there are twenty ways of throwing cold water upon 
 such a motion ; or, if it should be insisted upon, I 
 could recommend a moderate way of complying with 
 it, from the example of one of our friends, who, on a 
 like occasion, yielded so far, that he stood up at the 
 back of a chair, and said : " Lord, we thank thee 
 for Mr. Bayle's Dictionary. Amen." This was so 
 far from spoiling good company, that it contributed 
 wonderfully to promote social mirth, and sweetened 
 the young men in a most agreeable manner for their 
 rest.f 
 
 The irony of the Characteristics appears to 
 have been misunderstood in some quarters ; at 
 any rate, it drew from the writer A Serious 
 
 * Blackwood's Magazine, ii. 433. 
 
 t Ecclesiastical Characteristics: or, the Arcana of Church 
 Policy — beiriL' an Humble Attempt to open the Mystery of 
 Moderation, likewise is shewn a plain and easy way of attain- 
 ing to the character of a Moderate Man, as at present in repute 
 in the Church of Scotland. 
 
276 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Apology for the Ecclesiastical Characteristics, 
 by the real Author of that Performance, in which 
 the use of satire of that kind is defended, and its 
 application in the particular instance enforced. 
 He instances passages of irony from the sacred 
 •writings, and " from the most grave and venera- 
 ble of the fathers," and urges the necessity of 
 making some provision for the levity and sloth 
 of the readers of the day. Another motive was 
 to meet the worldliness of the times on its own 
 terms: — 
 
 The great patron and advocate for these was Lord 
 Shaftesbury, one of whose leading principles it is, 
 that " Ridicule is the test of truth." This principle 
 of his had been adopted by many of the clergy ; and 
 there is hardly any man conversant in the literary 
 world, who has not heard it a thousand times de- 
 fended in Conversation. I was therefore willing to 
 try how they themselves could stand the edge of 
 this weapon ; hoping, that if it did not eo?iviiice 
 them of the folly of the other parts of their conduct, 
 it might at least put them out of conceit with this 
 particular opinion. The last of these I do really 
 think the publication of the Characteristics has in 
 a great measure effected ; at least within my narrow 
 sphere of conversation. It is but seldom we now 
 hear it pretended, that ridicule is the test of truth. 
 If they have not renounced this opinion, they at 
 least keep it more to themselves, and are less inso- 
 lent upon it in their treatment of others. 
 
 He takes care, however, to state that he does 
 not adopt the test of ridicule as a criterion of 
 what is true and excellent. 
 
 Another apologue, somewhat similar in idea to 
 the Characteristics, was his History of a Corpora- 
 tion of Servants, discovered a few years ago in 
 the interior parts of South America, containing 
 some very Surprising Events and Extraordinary 
 Characters, which is a narrative, under a plea- 
 sant disguise, of the Church History of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 His Serious Enquiry into the Kature and 
 Effects of the Stage originated with the perform- 
 ance, in Edinburgh, of Douglas, written by the 
 clergyman Home.* 
 
 Witherspoon arrived in America, and was 
 inaugurated president at Princeton, August 17, 
 1768. He improved the finances of the institu- 
 tion, and extended its literary and philosophical 
 instruction by his courses on Moral Philosophy 
 and Rhetoric, in which he anticipated the pub- 
 lished works of Reid and Blair. These lectures 
 are included in his works, and are highly finished 
 productions for their day, of this species of writ- 
 ing. 
 
 On the opening of the war, the college, on 
 the highroad of hostilities, was broken up for the 
 time, when Witherspoon was elected delegate to 
 the Convention of New Jersey for the formation 
 of a state constitution, and being sent by the 
 Provincial Congress to the General Congress at 
 Philadelphia, took his seat in time to sign the 
 Declaration of Independence. To a member of 
 Congress, who said that the country was not 
 
 * Witherspoon's Serious Inquiry into the Nature and Effects 
 of the Stage, and a Letter respecting Play Actors, ■with a Ser- 
 mon by Dr. Samuel Miller, on the Burning of the Theatre at 
 Richmond, with an Introductory Address, were published in 
 a suiall volume, by Whiting & Watson, New York, 1S12. 
 
 ripe for such a declaration, he replied, " In my 
 judgment, sir, we are not only ripe but rotten." 
 He attended Congress with exemplary punctuality 
 throughout the war, and was actively engaged in 
 its committees. He was a member of the Secret 
 Committee and of the Board of War, in which 
 latter capacity he brought before Congress a 
 report respecting the cruel treatment of prisoners 
 by the British in New York, and was one of a 
 committee who prepared a protest on the subject. 
 He visited the camp at head-quarters, to improve 
 the state of the troops, and was sent to the East 
 to assist in the adjustment of the New Hampshire 
 grants. He wrote the Congressional addresses 
 to the people, recommending fasts and Thoughts 
 on American Liberty, and several war topics in the 
 newspapers. He was thoroughly identified with 
 the American cause. " No man," we quote the 
 words of Dr. J. W. Alexander in his Princeton 
 Address, " thinks of Witherspoon as a Briton, 
 but as an American of the Americans: as the 
 friend of Stockton, the counsellor of Morris, the 
 correspondent of Washington, the rival of Frank- 
 lin in his sagacity, and of Reed in his resolution ; 
 one of the boldest in that Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence, and one of the most revered in the debates 
 of the Congre.-s."* 
 
 Witherspoon's Essay on Money was a repro- 
 duction of his speeches in Congress, where he op- 
 posed the repeated issues of paper currency. His 
 memory was very great; he carefully matured 
 his speech, and lay in wait with it in his mind 
 till opportunity arose, when he prefaced it with 
 extempore remarks, and surprised his audience 
 by his fulness and method. In 1781 he wrote 
 several periodical essays on social and literary 
 topics, the corruptions of languages and other 
 matters, with the title, TJie Druid. 
 
 On the revival of the college it was mainly left 
 in the hands of his son-in-law, Dr. Samuel Stan- 
 hope Smith, who succeeded him in the office of 
 President at his death. In 1783 he was induced 
 to visit England for the purpose of collecting 
 funds for the institution ; a rather early applica- 
 tion after the war, which was unsuccessful. He 
 returned the next 3*ear. Some time afterwards, 
 when he was about seventy, he occasioned much 
 comment among Ids friends by marrying a lady 
 of twenty-three.t He married his first wife in 
 Scotland, by whom he had a son who became a 
 major in the Revolutionary army, and was killed 
 at the battle of Germantown. Ramsay, the his- 
 torian, married his daughter. He resided at a 
 country-seat near Princeton, to which he gave the 
 name of Tusculum. Within the last two years 
 of his life he was afflicted with blindness. He 
 died, Nov. 15, 1794. 
 
 His portrait by Pine shows a fine, manly coun- 
 
 i tenance. His personal appearance, being six feet 
 in height, was impressive, and he has been in this 
 
 ; respect compared with Washington. He spoke 
 with a strong Scottish accent. His sermons, 
 
 * J. W. Alexanders MS. Centennial Address at Princeton. 
 
 + Ashbel Green has this entry in his Diary, July 29, 1791 : — 
 M Spent this day at Princeton. After making several calls, I 
 went with Dr. 'Smith and Dr. Stockton to Tusculum. in the 
 afternoon, to take tea with Dr. Witherspoon, and to pay my 
 respects to his young wife. I had heard her represented as 
 verv handsome. She is comely; but to my apprehension, 
 nothing more. The Doctor treated us with great politeness." 
 
JOHN WITHERSPOON'. 
 
 277 
 
 which were evangelical, simple" in matter and 
 methodical in arrangement, were well delivered, 
 though a dizziness to which he was subject re- 
 strained his expression of emotion. " He had a 
 small voice," Ashbel Green tells us, " and used 
 but little gesture in the pulpit, but his utterance 
 was very distinct and articulate ; and his whole 
 manner serious and solemn." While sitting in 
 Congress he always wore his clerical dress. In 
 his general course, he has the merit of having 
 equally avoided flattery and scandal. His sa- 
 gacity was shown in the old Continental Con- 
 egress, when he earnestly opposed the appointment 
 "of Thomas Paine as Secretary to the Committee 
 of Foreign Affairs, whom he already distrusted, 
 though fresh in the success of the " Crisis."* A 
 turn of his self-reliant character is given in his 
 remark to Braekenridge, afterwards the witty 
 judge, then a student at Princeton, who, com- 
 plaining of his straitened fortunes, quoted the line 
 of Juvenal — 
 
 Hand facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat 
 Res angusta dorni. 
 
 " There yon are wrong, young man," said the 
 Doctor; "it is only your res-angvsta-domi men 
 that do emerge. 1 '! 
 
 Witherspoon was never deficient in ardor when 
 it was properly called for ; at other times he was 
 not lightly to be moved from his balance. Gray- 
 don, in his memoirs, tells a story of a cool reception 
 of an effort which he made with him for the 
 liberation of one of his Scottish countrymen, a 
 young officer who had got into jail through a 
 street encounter with the Whigs of the day. 
 Witherspoon was then member of Congress, and 
 had some power in the matter. Graydon met him 
 at dinner, and made his appeal. " I counted," he 
 
 says, " something upon the national spirit, sup- 
 posed to be so prevalent among North Britons; 
 and yet more, upon the circumstance of knowing 
 from Dunlap and two other young Scotchmen, his 
 fellow prisoners, that Doctor Witherspoon had 
 been well acquainted with their families. I did not 
 find, however, that the Doctor was much melted 
 to compassion for the mishap of his countryman, 
 as he contented himself with coldly observing, that 
 if I could suggest any substantial ground for him 
 to proceed upon, he would do what he could for 
 the young man. It appeared to me, that enough 
 had been suggested, by my simple relation of the 
 facts ; and I had nothing more to offer. But 
 whether or not my application was of any benefit 
 to its object, my presentation of the laddies to the 
 recollection of the Doctor, seemed to have some- 
 thing of national interest in it; and had the effect 
 to incite him to a shrewd remark, according to his 
 manner. He told me he had seen the young meu 
 soon after they had been taken, and was sur- 
 prised to find one of them, whose name I forget, 
 so much of a cub. His father, said he, was a 
 very sprightly fellow, when I knew him. This 
 lad is the fruit of a second marriage ; and I im- 
 mediately concluded, when I saw him, said the 
 Doctor, that Jemrriey, or Sawney something, men- 
 tioning the father's name, had taken some clumsy 
 girl to wife for the sake of a fortune."* 
 
 Dr. Ashbel Green give? an account of his pas- 
 sage with Governor Franklin in Congress: — "Dr. 
 Witherspoon was a member of the Provincial 
 Congress with my father, when Governor Frank- 
 lin was brought before it, under a military guard. 
 The governor treated the whole Congress with 
 marked indignity, refused to answer any questions 
 that were put to him, represented it as a lawless 
 assembly, composed of ignorant and vulgar men, 
 utterty incapable of devising anything for the 
 public good, and who had rashly subjected them- 
 selves to the charge and deserved punishment of 
 rebellion. When he finished his tirade of abuse, 
 Dr. Witherspoon rose and let loose upon him a 
 copious stream of that irony and sarcasm which 
 he always had at command ; and in which he did 
 not hesitate to allude to the governor's illegitimate 
 origin, and to his entire want, in his early train- 
 ing, of all scientific and liberal knowledge. At 
 length he concluded, nearly, if not exactly, in 
 these words — 'On the whole, Mr. President, I 
 think that Governor Franklin has made us a 
 speech every way worthy of his exalted birth and 
 refined education.' "t 
 
 When General James Wilkinson made his tardy 
 appearance on the floor of Congress with the 
 standards which he had been delegated to carry 
 there by General Gates after the victory of Sara- 
 toga, it was moved by a member to honor the 
 laggard messenger with a costly sword, when 
 Witherspoon rose and proposed, that in place of 
 a sword lie should bo presented with a pair of 
 golden spurs. { 
 
 At his death his eulogy was pronounced by Dr. 
 John Rodgers of New York, and his works were 
 collected in 1802 at Philadelphia, in four octavo 
 volumes. 
 
 * John Adams's Autobiography, Works, ii. 507. 
 t Biog. Notice of 11. H. Brackenrid-re. Modern Chivalry. 
 1646. VoL ii. 158. 
 
 * Graydon's Memoirs, pp. 30G-7. 
 
 t Life of Green, p. 61. 
 
 i Sanderson's Biog. of the Signers, v. 180. 
 
278 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 MAXIM V. — FROM THE CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 A minuter must endeavor to acquire as great a degree 
 of politeness, in his carriage and behavior, and to 
 catch as much of the air and manner of a fine gen- 
 tleman, as possibly he can. 
 
 This ia usually a distinguishing mark between the 
 moderate and the orthodox; and how much we 
 have the advantage in it is extremely obvious. 
 Good manners is undoubtedly the most excellent 
 of all accomplishments, and in some measure supplies 
 the place of them all when they are wanting. And 
 surely nothing can be more necessary to, or more 
 ornamental and becomii g in a minister: it gains 
 him easy access into the world, and frees him from 
 that rigid seventy which renders many of them 60 
 odious a;id detestable to the polite part of it. In 
 former times, ministers were so monkish and recluse, 
 for ordinary, and so formal when they did happen 
 to appear, that a!l the jovial part of mankind, parti- 
 ctilaily rakes and libertines, shunned and fled from 
 them ; or, when unavoidably thrown into their coin- 
 pa y, were constrained, and had no kind of confi- 
 dence to repose in them : whereas now, let a 
 moderate, modern, well-bred minister go into pro- 
 miscuous company, they stand in no manner of awe, 
 and will even swear with all imaginable liberty. 
 This gives the minister an oppoitui.ity of under- 
 stand] g their character, and of perhaps sometimes 
 reasoning in an easy and genteel manner against 
 swearing. This, though indeed it seldom reforms 
 them, yet it is as seldom taken amiss; which shows 
 the counsel to have been administered with pru- 
 dence. 
 
 How is it possible that a minister can understand 
 wickedness, unless he either practises it himself (but 
 much of that will not yet pass in the world) or 
 allows the wicked to be bold in his presence? To 
 do otherwise, would be to do in practice what I 
 have known narrow-minded bigoted students do 
 as to speculation, viz. avoid reading their adver- 
 saries' books because they were erroneous; whereas 
 it is evident no error can be refuted till it be under- 
 stood. 
 
 The setting the different characters of ministers in 
 immediate opposition, will put this matter past all 
 doubt, as the sun of truth rising upon the stars of 
 error, darkens and makes them to disappear. Some 
 there are, who may be easily known to be ministers 
 by their very dress, their grave demure looks, and 
 their confined precise conversation. How contempt- 
 ible is this! and how like to some of the meanest 
 employments among us ; as sailors, who are known 
 by their rolling walk, and taylors, by the shivering 
 shrug of their shoulders! But our truly accom- 
 plished clergy put off so entirely everything that is 
 peculiar to their profession, that were you to see 
 them in the streets, meet with them at a visit, or 
 spend an evening with them in a tavern, you would 
 not once suspect them for men of that character. 
 Agreeably to this, 1 remember an excellent thing 
 said by a gentleman, in commendation of a minister, 
 that " he had nothing at all of the clergyman about 
 im. 
 
 I shall have done with this maxim, when I have 
 given my advice as to the method of attaining to it; 
 which is, That students, probationers, and young 
 clergymen, while their bodies and minds are yet 
 flexible, should converse, and keep company, as 
 much as may be, with officers of the army under 
 five and twenty, of whom there are no small num- 
 ber in the nation, and with young gentlemen of for- 
 tune, particularly such as, by the earl}' and happy 
 death of their parents, have come to their estates 
 before they arrived at the years of majority. 
 Scarce one of these but is a noble pattern to form 
 
 ! upon; for they have had the opportunity of follow- 
 i ing nature, which is the all-comprehensive rule of 
 | the ancients, and of acquiring a free manner of 
 I thinking, speaking, and acting, without either the 
 i pedantry of learning, or the stiffness contracted by 
 j a strict adherence to the maxims of worldly pru- 
 j dence. 
 
 After all, I believe I might have spared myself 
 j the trouble of inserting this maxim, the present ris- 
 [ ing generation being of themselves sufficiently dis- 
 i posed to observe it. This I reckon they have either 
 t constitutionally, or perhaps have learned it from the 
 inimitable Lord Shaftsbury, who in so lively a 
 manner sets forth the evil of universities, and 
 recommends conversation with the polite Peripa- 
 tetics, as the only way of ai riving at true know- 
 ledge. 
 
 JAMES EIYINGTON, 
 The Royal Printer of New York during the 
 Revolution, if not a man of much literature in 
 himself, was the prolific cause of literature in 
 others, having excited by his course some of the 
 best effusions of Witherspoon, Hopkinson, and 
 Freneau. He was from London, where he. had 
 attained considerable wealth as a bookseller, 
 which he had lost by his gay expenses at New- 
 market. He failed in business and came to Ame- 
 rica in 1760. # He was at first a bookseller in 
 Philadelphia, and the next year opened a store in 
 Wall street in New York, where he took up his 
 residence, in 1763 entering upon the printing 
 business. He commenced his newspaper, the 
 New York Gazetteer ; or the Connecticut, New 
 Jersey, Hudson's River and Quebec Weekly Ad- 
 vertiser, April 22, 1773, " at his ever open and 
 uninfluenced press." He received support from 
 the government and advocated British interests; 
 not always to the acceptance of the popular feel- 
 ing. In 1775 he appears to have been confined 
 by order of Congress, when he addressed to that 
 body a very submissive remonstrance and petition,- 
 " humbly presuming that the very respectable 
 gentlemen of the Congress now sitting at Phila- 
 delphia, will permit him to declare, and, as a man 
 j of honor and veracity, he can and does solemnly 
 j declare, that however wrong and mistaken he 
 1 may have been in his opinions, he has always 
 meant honestly and openly to do his duty as a 
 servant of the public. * * It is his wish and 
 ambition to be an useful member of society. Al- 
 i though an Englishman by birth, he is an Ameri- 
 ! can by choice, and he is desirous of devoting his 
 life, in the business of his profession, to the ser- 
 vice of the country he has adopted for his own.''* 
 In Nov. 1775, Oapt. Isaac Sears, a representative 
 of the sons of liberty, who had retired to Con- 
 necticut, returned with a troop of seventy -five 
 light horse, which he had got together, " beset" 
 j the habitation of Rivington, destroyed his press 
 j and carried off his types, which were converted 
 ! into bullets. Rivington then left for England, 
 | procured a new press, and was appointed King's 
 ] Printer in New York. Oct. 4, 1777, he recom- 
 menced the Gazette with the old title, which he 
 soon exchanged to Rivington's New York Loyal 
 Gazette, and December 13 to the Royal Gazette, 
 which became so notorious in his hands, and 
 
 * The letter is given in Sabine's Loyalists, pp. 553-560. 
 
JAMES RIVINGTON'. 
 
 279 
 
 ■which he continued till 178?.. On the with- 
 drawal of the British, Rivington remained in 
 New York, a circumstance which surprised the 
 returning Americans till it became known that 
 he had been, during the latter days of the war, a 
 spy for Washington. He wrote his communica- 
 tions on thin paper, and they found their way 
 bound in one of the books in which he dealt to 
 the American camp, by the hands of agents igno- 
 rant of the service. He continued his paper 
 with the royal arms taken down, and the title 
 changed to Rivingtorfs New York Gazette and 
 Universal Advertiser, but it was considered "a 
 wolf in sheep's clothing;" support dropped off, 
 and the paper soon stop >ed in 1783. Rivington, 
 in reduced circumstances, lived till 1802, when 
 he died at the age of seventy-eight. There is a 
 portrait of him by Stuart in the possession of 
 the Hunter family in Westchester Co., New 
 York. 
 
 The Royal Gazette undoubtedly bore a very had 
 character for its statements. People were accus- 
 tomed to call it the Lying Gazette. The resolu- 
 tions of the Rhode Island Whigs at Newport on 
 this head are sufficiently explicit: " Whereas, a 
 certain James Rivington, a printer and stationer 
 in the city of New York, impelled by the love of 
 sordid pelf and a haughty, domineering spirit, 
 hath for a long time in the dirty Gazette, and in 
 pamphlets, if possible still more dirty, uniformly 
 persisted in publishing everv falsehood," &c* 
 "Even the royalists," says Isaiah Thomas, " cen- 
 sured Rivington for Ins disregard to truth. Dur- 
 ing the war, a captain of militia at Horseneck, 
 with abqut thirty men, marched to Kingsbridge, 
 and there attacked a house within the British 
 lines, which was garrisoned by refugees, and took 
 most of them prisoners. Rivington published an 
 accmmt of this transaction which greatly exag- 
 gerated the affair in favor of the refugees; he 
 observed, that 'a large detachment of rebels at- 
 tack ;d the house, which was bravely defended 
 by a refugee colonel, a major, a quartermaster, 
 and fifteen privates — and, that after they were 
 taken and carried off, another party of refugee 
 dragoon*, seventy-three in number, pursued the 
 rebels, killed twenty-three of them, took forty 
 prisoners, and would have taken the whole rebel 
 force, had not the refugee horse been jaded to a 
 stand-still' "t 
 
 Rivington's Royal Gazette was conducted for 
 the Tory side with cleverness, and Rivington 
 must have been, in many ways, a man of talent 
 and ability. I The paper was well put together 
 and supplied with news from abroad, and was 
 constantly replenished with poetical and prose 
 squibs directed at the rebels. There was no 
 lack of very pretty poems full of facetiousness 
 at the expense of the Revolutionary leaders and 
 their French allies. Gov. Livingston, in particu- 
 lar, was honored with many humorous epithets as 
 the Don Quixote of the Jerseys, the Itinerant 
 
 '* Sabine's American Loyalists, p. 553, where several otherpro- 
 cecdings of this kind are given. 
 I Thomas's Hist. Printing, ii. 314. 
 
 J '-He knew how to get money, and as well knew how to 
 spend it; being facetious, companionable, and still fond of 
 high living; but, like a man acquainted with the world, he 
 distinguished the guests who were his best customers." — Tho- 
 mas's Hist. Printing, ii. 112. 
 
 Dey of New Jersey, trie Knight of the most 
 honorable Order of Starvation and Chief of the 
 Independents. "If Rivington is taken," Gov. 
 Livingston wrote about 1780, " I must have one 
 of his ears ; Governor Clinton is entitled to the 
 other, and General Washington, if he pleases, 
 may take his head." Writing to a friend in 1779, 
 he says, " If I could send you any news I should 
 do it with pleasure ; and to make it, you know, 
 is the prerogative of Mr. Rivington."* 
 
 Rivington's Gazette relishes of many other 
 things besides war and politics. The officers lived 
 well and daintily, it we may judge from his adver- 
 tising columns. " Ratafia and Liqueurs to be sold 
 in boxe-i. Enquire of the Printer." " Wanted. 
 A Very Good Fiddle. Enquire of the Printer," 
 are advertisements of 1779. His own bookselling 
 stock was at the same time daintily set forth — 
 "Novels, New Plays, and other Bagatelles, just 
 imported and sold by James Rivington — as The 
 Memoirs of Lady Audley — The Journey of Dr. 
 Robert Bon Gout and his lady to Bath, and plays 
 of the very pleasant Master Samuel Foot, now 
 first. published." We have also " Dr. Smollett's 
 pleasant expedition of Humphrey Clinker," — and 
 " the facetious history of Peregrine Pickle." All 
 tilings are as pleasant as possible to his friends 
 in Rivington's paper. But as a salad is worth 
 nothing without a few drops of vinegar, that in- 
 gredient is supplied at the cost of the great Dr. 
 Johnson. There is advertised, in 1780- — ■" a Jour- 
 ney to the Western Isles of Scotland, a very sour 
 performance published by the celebrated Dr. Sa- 
 muel Johnson, author of a lu-tv Dictionary of the 
 English language." In his paper of May 3, 1780, 
 Rivington offers for sale "Lord Clarendon's His- 
 tory of the Grand Rebellion which the vandals 
 of America are apeing;" but this, perhaps, was 
 a treasonable compliment to the "rebels," with a 
 wink over the pen to Washington I 
 
 He had not, however, all the laughter to him- 
 self. The grave and venerable Witherspoon, who 
 never threw away a joke in an unprofitable way, 
 though lie had always wit at command, wrote a 
 
 Supplication of J. P , a parody of Rivington's 
 
 Petition to Congress, which must have stirred the 
 gall of its victim, as it tickled the midriff of all 
 who knew the man. It purports to be addressed 
 to his Excellency Henry Laurens, Esquire, Presi- 
 dent and others, the members of the Honorable 
 the American Congress, &e., and thus at the open- 
 ing, Respectfully Sheweth : — 
 
 That a great part of the British forces has already 
 left this city, and from many symptoms there is rea- 
 son to suspect, that the remainder will speedily fol- 
 low them. Where they are gone or going, is per- 
 haps known to themselves, perhaps not; certainly, 
 however, it is unknown to us, the loyal inhabitants 
 of the place, and other friends of government 
 who have taken refuge in it, and who are therefore 
 filled with distress and terror on the unhappy oc- 
 casion. 
 
 That as soon as the evacuation is completed, it 
 is more than probable the city will be taken pos- 
 session of by the forces of your high mightinesses, 
 followed by vast crowds of other persons — whigs by 
 nature and profession — friends to the liberties, and 
 
 : Sedgwick's Livingston, pp. 247, 338. 
 
280 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 foes to the enemies of America. Above all, it will 
 undoubtedly be tilled with shoals of Yanki.es, that 
 is to say, the natives and inhabitants (or as a great 
 lady in this metropolis generally expresses it, the 
 'wretches) of New-hngland. 
 
 That from several circumstances, there is reason to 
 fear that the behavior of the wretches aforesaid, may 
 not be altogether gentle to such of the friends of 
 government as shall stay behind. What the govern- 
 ment powers of the state of New-York may do also, 
 it is impossible to foretell. Nay, who knows but we 
 may soon see, propria perso?ta, as we have often 
 heard of Hortcnsius, the governor of New-Jersey, a 
 gentleman remarkable for severely handling those 
 whom he calls traitors, and indeed who has exalted 
 some of them (quanquam animus meminisse horret 
 lectuque refugit) to a high, though dependent station, 
 and brought America under their feet, in a sense 
 very different from what Lord North meant when he 
 first used that celebrated expression. 
 
 That your petitioner, in particular, is at the great- 
 est loss what to resolve upon, or how to shape his 
 course. He has no desire at all, either to be roasted 
 in Florida, or frozen to death in Canada or Nova 
 Seotia. Being a great lover of iresli cod, he has had 
 thoughts of ti'3 - n.g a settlement in Newfoundland, 
 but recollecting that the New-England men have 
 almost all the same appetite, he was obliged to re- 
 linquish that project entirely. If he should go to 
 Great-Britain, dangers no less formidable present 
 themselves, Having been a bankrupt in London, it 
 is not impossible that he might be accommodated 
 with a lodging in Newgate, and that the ordinary 
 there might oblige him to say his prayers, a practice 
 from which he hath had an insuperable aversion all 
 his life long. 
 
 He urges " sundry reasons " for leniency, one of 
 "which is the following : — 
 
 Any further punishment upon me, or any other of 
 the unhappy refugees who shall remain in N. York, 
 will be altogether unnecessary, for they do suffer and 
 will suffer from the nature of the thing, as much as 
 a merciful man could wish to impose upon his great- 
 est enemy. By this I mean the dreadful mortifica- 
 tion (after our past puffing and vaunting) of being 
 under the dominion of the Congress, seeing and 
 hearing the conduct and discourse of the friends of 
 America, and perhaps being put in mind of our own, 
 in former times. You have probably seen many of 
 the English newspapers, and also some of mine, and 
 you have among you the few prisoners who by a 
 miracle escaped death in our hands. By all these 
 means you may learn with what infinite contempt, 
 with what provoking insult, and with what unex- 
 ampled barbarity, your people have, from the begin- 
 nir.g to the end, been treated by the British officers, 
 excepting a very small number, but above all by the 
 tories and refugees, who not having the faculty of 
 fighting, were obliged to lay out their whole wrath 
 and malice in the article of speaking. I remember, 
 when one of the prisoners taken after the gallant 
 defence of Fort Washington had received several 
 kicks for not being in his rank, he said, is this a way 
 of treating a gentleman ? The answer was. gentle- 
 man ? G d — your blood, who made you a 
 
 gentleman ? which was heard by us all present with 
 unspeakable satisfaction, and ratified by general ap- 
 plause. I have also seen one of your officers, after 
 long imprisonment, for want of clothes, food and 
 lodging, as meagre as a skeleton and as dirty and 
 shabby as a London beggar, when one of our friends 
 would say with infinite humour, look you there is 
 one of King Cong's ragged rascals. You must re- 
 
 member the many sweet names given you in print, 
 in England and America, Rebels, Rascals, Ragga- 
 muffins, Tatterdemallions, Scoundrels, Blackguards, 
 Cowards, and Poltroons. You cannot be ignorant 
 how many and how complete victories we gained 
 over you, and what a fine figure you made in our 
 narratives. We never once made you to retreat, 
 seldom even to fig as a routed army, but to run off 
 into the woods, to scamper away ihrougli the fields, 
 and to take to your heels as usual. You will proba- 
 bly soon see the gazette account of the defeat of 
 Mr. Washington at Monmouth. There it will appear 
 how you scampered off, and how the English followed 
 you and mowed you down, till their officers, with 
 that humanity which is the characteristic of the na- 
 tion, put a stop to this carnage, and then by a 
 masterly stroke of generalship, stole a march in the 
 night, lest you should have scampered back again 
 and obliged them to make a new slaughter in the 
 morning. 
 
 Now, dear gentlemen, consider what a miserable 
 affair it must be for a man to be obliged to apply 
 with humility and self-abasement to those wtiom he 
 hath so treated, nay, even to beg life of them, while 
 his own heart upbraids him with his pnst conduct, 
 and perhaps his memory is refreshed with the repe- 
 tition of some of his rhetorical flowers. It is gene- 
 rally said that our friend Burgoyne was treated with 
 abundance of civility by General Gates, and yet I 
 think it could not be verj* pleasing to him to see and 
 hear the boys when he entered Albany, going before 
 and crying Elbow Room for General Burgoyne there. 
 Fear and trembling have already taken hold of many 
 of the Refugees and friends of government in this 
 place. It would break your hearts to hear poor 
 
 bam. 8 , of Philadelphia, weeping and 
 
 wailing, and yet he was a peaceable Quaker who 
 did nothing in the world but hire guides to the Eng- 
 lish parties who were going out to surprise and 
 
 butcher you. My brother of trade, G is so 
 
 much affected, that some say he has lost, or will 
 soon lose, his reason. For my own part I do not 
 think 1 run any risk in that respect. All the wis- 
 dom that I was ever possessed of is in me still, 
 praised be God, and likely to be so. * * * * 
 I have heard some people say that dishonor was 
 worse than death, but with the great Saneho Pancha, 
 I was always of a different opinion. I hope, there- 
 fore, your honors will consider my sufferings as suffi- 
 cient to atone for my offences, and allow me to con- 
 tinue in peace a:id quiet, and according to the North- 
 British proverb, sleep in a whole skin. 
 
 And does not forget his lighter accomplishments : 
 
 I beg leave to suggest, that upon being received 
 into favor, I think it would be in my power to serve 
 the United States in several important respects. I 
 believe many of your officers want politeness. They 
 are like old Cinciunatus, taken from the plow; and 
 therefore must still have a little roughness in their 
 manners and deportment. Now, I myself am the 
 pink of courtesy, a genteel, portly, well-looking fel- 
 low, as you will see in a summer's day. I under- 
 stand and possess the bienseance, the manner, the 
 grace, so largely insisted on by Lord Chesterfield ; 
 and may without vanity say, I could teach it better 
 than his lordship, who in that article has remarkably 
 failed. I hear with pleasure, that your people are 
 pretty good scholars, and have made particularly 
 very happy advances in the art of swearing, so 
 essentially necessary to a gentleman. Yet 1 dare say 
 they will themselves confess, that they are still in 
 this respect far inferioi to the English army. There 
 is, by all accounts, a coarseness and sameness in their 
 
JAMES RIVINGTON. 
 
 2Sl 
 
 expression ; whereas there is variety, sprightliness, 
 and figure, in the oaths of gentlemen well educated. 
 Dean Swift says very justly, " a footman may swear, 
 but he cannot swear like a lord." Now we have 
 many lords in the English army, all of whom, when 
 here, were pleased to honor me with their friendship 
 and intimacy; so that I hope my qualifications can 
 hardly be disputed. I have imported many of the 
 most necessary articles for appearance in genteel 
 life. I can give them Lavornitti's soap-balls, to wash 
 their brown hands clean, perfumed gloves, paint, 
 powder, and pomatum. I can also furnish the New- 
 England men with rings, seals, swords, canes, snuff- 
 boxes, tweezer-cases, and many other such notions, 
 to carry home to their wives and mistresses, who will 
 be nation-g\dd to see them. You are also to know 
 that I import a great many patent medicines, which 
 may be of use to your army. It is said that some 
 of them are exceedingly liable to a disorder called 
 by physicians the rancomania, which is frequently 
 followed by the two twin diseases of plumbophobia 
 and siderophobia. If they will but submit to a strict 
 regimen, and take the tincture drops and pills which 
 I prepare, I am confident the cure in most cases 
 would be infallible. 
 
 Nor his capacity as an editor: — 
 
 Finally, I hope I may be of service to the United 
 States, as a writer, publisher, collector, and maker 
 of news. I mention tins with some diffidence; be- 
 cause perhaps you will think I have foreclosed 
 myself from such a claim, by confessing (as above) 
 that my credit as a news-writer is broken by over- 
 stretching. But it is common enough for a man in 
 business, when his credit is wholly gone in one 
 place, by shifting his ground, and taking a new 
 departure, to flourish away, and make as great or 
 greater figure than before. How long that splendor 
 will last is another matter, and belongs to an after 
 consideration. I might therefore, though my credit 
 is gone in New-York, set up again in the place which 
 is honored with your residence. Besides, I might 
 write those things only or chiefly, which you wish 
 to be disbelieved, and thus render you the most 
 essential service. This would be aiming and arriving 
 at the same point, by manoeuvring retrograde. Once 
 more, as I have been the ostensible printer of other 
 people's lies in New-York, what is to hinder me 
 from keeping incog, and inventing or polishing lies, 
 to be issued from the press of another printer in 
 Philadelphia? In one, or more, or all of these ways, 
 I hope to merit your approbation. It would be end- 
 less to .mention all my devices; and therefore I will 
 only say further, that I can take a truth, and so puff 
 and swell and adorn it, still keeping the proportion 
 of its parts, but enlarging their dimensions, that you 
 could hardly discover where the falsehood lay, in 
 case of a strict investigation. 
 
 Francis Hopkinson published one of his wittiest 
 papers at Eivington's expense in the following 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY. BY JAMES RIVINGTON.* 
 
 New York, Nov, 1, 1781. 
 The late surrender of Lord Cornwallis and his 
 army, together with a variety of other circum- 
 
 * EST JAMES E1VINGT0N, printer of the Eovnl Gazette 
 at New York, whilst the British troops were in possession of 
 
 that city, had been exceedingly virulent, abusive, and illiberal 
 in his publications against the Americans, their congress their 
 army, their officers, and their measures : Every paper abound- 
 ed with the grossest falsities, misrepresentations, and insults- 
 till at last, facts repeatedly contradicting his positive intelli- 
 gence, the Royal Gazette lost all credit, even in Europe where 
 his accounts of the events of the war were cbictly intended to 
 
 stances, having rendered it convenient for the sub- 
 scriber to remove to Europe, all those who are 
 indebted to, or have any demands against him, are 
 earnestly requested to make as speedy a settlement 
 of their accounts as possible. 
 
 Notice is also hereby given, that the subscriber 
 will dispose of his remaining stock in trade by pub- 
 lic auction. The sales to begin at his store on Mon- 
 day, the 19th instant, and will be continued from 
 day to day (Sundays excepted) from the hours of ten 
 to one in the forenoon, until the whole shall be dis- 
 posed of. 
 
 It is well known that his store is furnished with 
 not only an extensive library of the most approved 
 authors, but also a greater variety of curious and 
 valuable articles than hath ever been exhibited in 
 one collected view on this side of the Atlantic. The 
 scanty limits of an advertisement are by far insuf- 
 ficient to admit of an adequate display of his extra- 
 ordinary and miscellaneous collection. The sub- 
 scriber must, therefore, content himself with 
 selecting, for the present, a few articles for public 
 attention : but a complete catalogue is now under 
 the press, and will be distributed at the time and 
 place of sale. 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 THE History of the American War: or, The 
 glorious exploits of the British Generals, Gage, Howe, 
 Burgoyne, Cornwallis, and Clinton. 
 
 7 lie Royal Pocket Companion : being a New Sys- 
 tem of Policy, founded on rules deduced from the 
 nature of man, and proved by experience : whereby 
 a prince may in a short time render himself the 
 abhorrence of his subjects, and the contempt of all 
 good and wise men. 
 
 Select Fables of jEsop, with suitable Morals and 
 Applications — Amongst which are, The Dog and the 
 Shadow — The Man and his Goose, which laid a 
 Golden Egg, <fec, etc. 
 
 A New System of Cruelty ; containing a variety 
 of Modern Improvements in that Art. Embellished 
 with an elegant Frontispiece, representing an Inside 
 View of a Prison Ship. 
 
 The Right of Great Britain to the Dominion of 
 the Sea — a poetical Fiction. 
 
 The State of Great Britain in October 1760 and 
 October 1781, compared and contrasted. 
 
 A Geographical, Historical, and Political History 
 of the Rights and Possessions of the Crown of Great 
 Britain in North America. This valuable Work did 
 consist of thirteen Volumes in Folio: but is now 
 abridged by a royal Author to a single Pocket Duo- 
 decimo ; for the greater convenience of himself, his 
 successors, and subjects. 
 
 The Lam of Nations, revised and amended. To 
 which is added, by way of Appendix, a full and true 
 account of the Capture of the Island of St. Eustatia, 
 by Admiral Rodney. 
 
 The Conquest of the four Southern rebel Colonies, 
 with Notes critical and explanatory by Earl Corn- 
 wallis. 
 
 A narrative of the Ship-wreck of 'Lord Rawdon, 
 in his voyage from Charlestown, South Carolina, to 
 London. 
 
 operate. This conduct of Mr. Eivingtnn, and of those who 
 countenanced and assisted him, provoked some sarcasms in 
 return— amongst which was this publication. — AicOun"a Note. 
 To appreciate fullvtlie humor of this ironical inventory, the 
 reader should consult the files of Eivington's paper and note 
 the provocation to mirth, in the glowing advertisements, 
 arranged pretty much according to Eopkinson's order, of the 
 royal printer's pamphlets, maps," charts, views and plans of bat- 
 tles, musical instruments. <fcc. There is a complete set of Eiv- 
 ington's Gazette in the Library of the New York Historical 
 Society. 
 
282 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Miracles not ceased: or, an instance of the remark- 
 able Interposition of Providence in causing the Moon 
 to delay her setting for more than two hours, to 
 favour the retreat of General Joshua and the British 
 Army after the battle of Monmouth. 
 
 Tears of Repentance : or, the present state of the 
 loyal Refugees in IN'ew York, and elsewhere. 
 
 Tli e political Liar : a weekly Paper, published by 
 the Subscriber, bouud in Volumes. 
 
 WEST Point Preserved : or, The Plot discovered. 
 
 Miss M'Crea: A Tragedy. 
 
 Burgoyne's Address to the people of Saratoga. 
 The sleeveless Errand : or, the Commissioners of Peace. 
 The march to the Valley Forge ; or much ado about 
 nothing. The unsuccessful attempt by Gov. Johnson. 
 The amorous Hero and contented Cuckold, by Gen. 
 Howe and Mr. Loring — Comedies. 
 
 The Meschianza: a pantomime. 
 
 The Battle of the Kegs : a Farce. 
 
 Who'd have thought it? or, the Introduction of 24 
 Standards to the rebel Congress. A procession. 
 
 MAPS AND PP.INT8. 
 
 AN elegant Map of the British empire in North 
 America, upon a very small scale. 
 
 Ax accurate Chart of the Const of North America 
 from IS'ew Hampshire to Florida ; with the Sound- 
 ings of all the principal Inlets, Bays, Harbours, and 
 Rivers. This work was undertaken and completed 
 by his Majesty's special command ; and at a national 
 expense of many millions of Guineas, thousands of 
 Men, and hundreds of Merchantmen and ro\-al Ships 
 of War. 
 
 A Survey of Lord Cornwallis's Rout through the 
 Southern Colonies: beginning at Charlestown, in 
 South Carolina, and terminating at York in Virginia. 
 As the preceding Chart gives an accurate descrip- 
 tion of the Sea Coast, so it was intended to form a 
 correct Map of the interior parts of this Country ; 
 but the rude Inhabitants grew jealous of the opera- 
 tion, and actually opposed his Lordship's progress. 
 
 The Battle of Saratoga, and the Surrender at 
 York ; two elegant Prints, cut in Copper, and dedi- 
 cated to the Kii g. 
 
 British Representations of the principal Transac- 
 tions of the present War, highly coloured by eminent 
 hands. These pieces are so ingeniously contrived, 
 th:it by reversing any one of them, it will exhibit an 
 American or a French view of the same subject 
 uncoloured. 
 
 A very humourous Representation of the memora- 
 ble Procession of Brigadier General Arnold ; with 
 his Friend and Counsellor, through the streets of 
 Philadelphia.* 
 
 The limes: A satyrical Print, representing the 
 British Lion blind in boih Eyes, thirteen of his 
 Teeth drawn, and his Claws pared off; with Lord 
 North, in the character of a Farrier, bleeding himin 
 the Tail for his recovery. 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL APPAP.ATUS. 
 
 A curious neio invented magic Laniliorn : very 
 useful for those who are at the head of affairs. This 
 
 * After the Discovery and Failure of General Arnold's trea- 
 sonable design to betiay the whole garrison of West-point, with 
 the person of Gen. "Washington, the ministerof France, Baron 
 Steuben, and other principal Characters, into the hands of the 
 Enemy ; an effigy of t tie General, as larire as the life, was con- 
 structed by an able artist at Philadelphia, and seated in a cart, 
 with the figure of the Devil at his elbow, holding a Lanthorn 
 tip to the face of Arnold to show Dim to the people. The cart 
 was paraded a whole evening through the streets of the City, 
 with Drums and Fifes playing the Rogue's march, and other 
 marks of Infamy, and attended by a vast concourse of People, 
 —Author's Kotc, 
 
 Machine was constructed by an able Artist, under 
 Lord North's immediate direction, for the amuse- 
 ment of the good people of England. The Specta- 
 tors are gratified with an illuminated view of the 
 fictitious objects presented, but kept totally in the 
 dark with respect to the real objects around tnern. 
 
 Multiplying Glasses ; whereby the numbers of an 
 Enemy ma}' be greatly encreased to cover the dis- 
 grace of a Defeat, or enhance the glory of a Victory. 
 
 Microscopes, for mag lifyuig small objects, furnish- 
 ed with a select set ready fitted for use. Amongst 
 these are a variety of real and supposed Successes 
 of the British Generals in America. 
 
 A complete Electrical Apparatus, with improve- 
 ments, for the use of the King and his Ministers. 
 This Machine should be exercised with great caution ; 
 otherwise, as experience hath shown, the operator 
 may unexpectedly receive the shock he intends to 
 give — Pocket glasses for short-sighted Politicians. 
 
 PATENT MEDICINES. 
 
 Aurum Potabile. This preparation was formerly 
 supposed to be a never failing Specific; but has 
 been found not so well adapted to the American Cli- 
 mate, having been frequently tried here without 
 effect: But its reputation is again rising, as it has 
 lately been administered with success in the case of 
 General Arnold. 
 
 Vivifying Balsam : excellent for weak Nerves, 
 Palpitations of the Heart, over Bashfulness and Dif- 
 fidence. In great demand for the Officers of the 
 Army. 
 
 Sp. Mend. : Or the genuine spirit of Lying, ex- 
 tracted by distillation from many hundreds of the 
 Royal Gazette of New York. Other papers have 
 been subjected to the same process, but the success 
 did not answer the Expence and Trouble of the 
 operation, the produce being of an inferior quality 
 — Therefore beware of Counterfeits. The Ink and 
 Paper of the Royal Gazette can alone furnish this 
 excellent Sp. Mend, in its greatest perfection. By 
 administering due proportions of this admirable 
 Medicine, Lies may be formed which will operate for 
 a day, a week, a month or months ; near at hand or 
 at a distance; in America, or in Europe, according 
 to the design of the party. K. B. The true Sp. 
 Mend, is authenticated by the Seal of the Subscriber, 
 who is the Inventor and Patentee thereof. 
 
 Cordial Drops for low spirits, prepared for the 
 special use of the Honorable the Board of loyal Refu- 
 gees at New York. 
 
 Anodyne Elixir, for quieting Fears and Appre- 
 hensions: very necessary for Tories in all parts of 
 America. 
 
 With a great variety of other Articles too tedious 
 to enumerate. 
 
 N. B. To every Purchaser to the value of five 
 Pounds, will be delivered gratis, One Quire of coun- 
 terfeit Continental Currency. Also two Quires of 
 Proclamations, offering Pardon to Rebels. 
 
 JAMES RIYIXGTON. 
 
 Hopkitifon also published Rivington's reply to 
 this, very much in the style of Witlierspoon. Last- 
 ly, we have these witty morceaux, by Frenearj, who 
 found capital vent for his humor in the character 
 of this curiously compounded gentleman. He 
 wrote a number of verses on the tempting theme. 
 First, an Epigram " occasioned by the title of 
 Mr. Rivington's New York Royal Gazette being 
 scarcely legible;" then, " Lines occasioned Ivy Mr. 
 Rivington's new titular types to his Royal Ga- 
 zette," but became very much dissatisfied with the 
 execution of the king's arms ; and when that was 
 remedied, produced a more stinging Epigram still. 
 
JAMES M'CLURG. 
 
 283 
 
 "onMivRivington's New Engraved King's Arms 
 to hid Royal Gazette." The " Reflections " and 
 "Confessions" are most searching and candid — ■ 
 since Freneau did not spare him; but perhaps of 
 all these, the best was his 
 
 RIVINGTON'S LAST "WILL AND TESTAMENT. 
 
 Since life is uncertain, and no one can say 
 
 How soon we may go, or how long we snail stay, 
 
 Metliinks lie is wisest wao soo lest prepares, 
 
 And settles, ia season, his worldly affairs. 
 
 Some folks are so weak they cau scarce avail crying, 
 
 And think when they're making their wills they are 
 
 dying; 
 'Tis surely a serious employment— but still, 
 Who e'er died the sooner for making his will ? 
 
 Let others be sad when their lives they review, 
 But I know whom I've serv'd — and him faithfully 
 
 too ; 
 And though it may seem a fanatical story, 
 He ofien has show'd me a glimpse of tiis glory. 
 
 Imprimis, my carcase I give and devise, 
 
 To be made into cakes of a mo lerate size, 
 
 To nourish those Tories wlio-e spirits may droop, 
 
 And serve the king's army with portable soup. 
 
 Unless I mistake, in the scriptureswe read 
 That " worms on the dead shall delicto isly feed ;" 
 The scripture stands true — ind that I a:n firm in, 
 For what are our Tories and soldiers but vermin! 
 
 This soup of all soups can't be call'd that of beef, 
 (And this may to some be a matter of grief,) 
 But I am certain the Bull would occasion a laugh, 
 That beef-portable-soup should be made of a calf. 
 
 To the king, my dear master, I give a full sett 
 (In volumes bound up) of the Royal Gazette, 
 In which he will find the vast records co itain'd, 
 Of provinces conquer'd, and victories giiu'd. 
 
 As to Arnold, the traitor, and Satan, his brother, 
 I beg they will also accept of another; 
 And this shall be bo Hid in Morocco re I leather, 
 Provided they'll read it, like brothers, together. 
 
 But if Arnold should die, 'tis another affair, 
 Then Satan, surviving, shall be the sole heir; 
 He often lias told me he thought it quite clever, 
 So to him and his heirs I bequeath it forever. 
 
 I know there are some (that would fain be thought 
 
 wise) 
 Who say my Gazette is a record of lies ; 
 In answer to this, I shall only reply — 
 All the choice that I had was, to starve or to lie. 
 
 My fiddles, my flutes, French horns and guitars, 
 I ienve to our heroes, now weary of wars — - 
 To the wars of the stage they more boldly advance, 
 The captains shall play, and the soldiers shall dance. 
 
 To Sir H'nri/ Clinton, his use and behoof, 
 I leave my French brandy, of very goo 1 proof; 
 It will give him fresh spirits for battle and slaughter, 
 And make him feel boidr by land and by water. 
 
 But I caution the knight, for fear he do wrong, 
 
 'Tis aimnt la viands, et apra le poUson* — 
 
 It will strengthen his stomach, prevent it from 
 
 turning, 
 And digest the affront of his effigy -burning. 
 To Baron Knyphausen, his heirs and assigns, 
 I bequeath my old Hock, and my Burgundy wines, 
 To a true Hessian drunkard, no liquors are sweeter, 
 ind I know the old man is no foe to the creature. 
 
 * Before flesh and after fish.— See E. Gaz. 
 
 To a General, my namesake,* I give and dispose 
 Of a purse full of clipp'd, lirjht, sweated half joes; 
 I hereby desire him lo take back his trash, 
 And return me my Haunay's infallible wash. 
 
 My chessmen and tables, and other such chattels 
 I give to Coruwnllis, renowned in battles; 
 By moving of these (not tracing the map) 
 He'll explain to the king how he got in a trap. 
 
 To goo 1 David Mi thews (among other slops) 
 I give my whole cargo of Mare taut's drops ; 
 If they cannot do all, they may cuie him in part, 
 And scatter the poison that Cankers his heart. 
 
 Provided, however, and nevertheless, 
 That whatever estate I enjoy and possess 
 At the time of my death (if it be not then sold) 
 Shall remain to the Tories, to have and to hold. 
 
 As I thus have bequeath'd them both carcase and 
 
 fleece, 
 The least they can do is to wait my decease ; 
 But to give them what substance I have, ere I die, 
 And be cat up with vermin, while living — uot I — 
 
 In witness whereof (though no ailment I feel) 
 Hereunto I set both my hand and my seal; 
 (As the law says) in presence of witnesses twain, 
 'Squire John Cor/hill Knap and brother Hugh Gaine. 
 
 Graydon, in his Memoirs, mentions Rivington 
 as one of the occasional visitors of his mother's 
 boarding-house at Philadelphia, and notices his 
 theatrical turn. "This gentleman's manners and 
 appearance were sufficiently dignified ; and he 
 kept the best company. He was an everlasting 
 dabbler in theatrical heroics. Othello was the 
 character in which he liked best to appear."! 
 
 Ashbel Green, in his Autobiography, says, that 
 "he had. in foresight of the evacuation of New 
 York by the British army, supplied himself from 
 London with a large assortment of what, are 
 called the British classics, and other works of 
 merit ; so that, for some time after the conclu- 
 sion of the war, he had the sale of these puhlica- 
 i tions almost wholly to himself. Amongst others, 
 I dealt with him pretty largely ; and with no- 
 thing else to make me a favorite, the fulsome let- 
 ters which he addressed to me were a real curi- 
 osity. He was the greatest sycophant imagi- 
 ; nable; very little under the influence of any 
 I principle but self-interest, yet of the most conr- 
 I teons manners to all with whom he had inter- 
 course.'^ 
 
 JAMES MCLCEG. 
 
 Tins accomplished litterateur and eminent phy- 
 sician of Virginia was born at Hampton, in the 
 county of Elizabeth City in that state, in 1747. 
 lie was at the College of William and Mary with 
 Jefferson, and pursued the study of medicine at 
 Edinburgh and Paris. While in London he pub- 
 lished his Essay on the "Human Bile," exhibiting 
 a series of experiments, with an introduction, 
 "written in so philosophical a spirit, and ex- 
 pressed with such beauty and classic elegance of 
 diction, that it was translated into all the lan- 
 guages of Europe."§ H e returned to America in 
 
 * Gen. James Robertson. 
 
 t Graydon's Memoirs, p. 77. 
 
 * Ashbel Greens Life, p. 46. 
 
 § Discourse on American Literature at Charlottesville, Dec 
 19, 1837, by Professor Geo. Tucker. 
 
284 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 1772 or 1773, and established himself at Williams- 
 burg, removing, when the seat of government 
 was changed, about 1783 to Richmond, where he 
 died, July, 1825. He was killed on Governor's 
 street, in that city, by his horses running away. 
 His remains lie in old St. John's Church, on 
 Church Hill, where there is the following inscrip- 
 tion on his tomb, written by Mr. Watkins Leigh, 
 who married his grand-daughter, and which has 
 been much admired for its tasteful composition. 
 
 Here lies interred 
 
 the body of James M'Olurg, M.D. 
 
 In life 
 
 admired and honored for learning, taste, and genius, 
 
 and venerated for virtue; 
 
 of studious and retired habits, 
 
 yet of the most easy and polished manners; 
 
 of the readiest and happiest wit, 
 
 tempered with modesty and benignity; 
 
 with a native dignity of character and deportment 
 
 always sustained without effort, 
 
 united with unaffected simplicity, 
 
 and softened with the utmost suavity of temper ; 
 
 formed to delight, instruct, and adorn society, 
 
 his conversation and acquaintance 
 
 were courted by the most distinguished persons 
 
 of his country and of his age. 
 
 Having studied his profession 
 
 in the most celebrated schools of Europe, 
 
 and distinguished himself even in youth 
 
 by the elegance and ability of his writings, 
 
 he was early placed 
 
 without pretension on his part, 
 
 by common consent abroad and at home, 
 
 in the highest rank among its professors, 
 
 which he occupied for half a century. 
 
 In old age 
 
 cheerful and tranquil, 
 
 his mental faculties unimpaired, 
 
 the serenity of his temper undisturbed. 
 
 Even his social gayety hardly clouded to the last 
 
 by the decay and infirmities of his body; 
 
 honored, beloved, revered, 
 
 content to live, content to die, 
 
 with equal mind he sunk to rest, 
 
 on the 9th day of July, 1825, 
 
 in the 78th year of his age. 
 
 He married Miss Elizabeth Seldon, daughter of 
 Carey Seldon. His daughter, the mother of Mrs- 
 Leigh, became the wife of John Wickharu, cele- 
 brated in the Burr trial. 
 
 Of his general literary accomplishments there 
 is a pleasing instance in some vers de societe, ac- 
 cording to the style of the day, savoring somewhat 
 of the English Cowley, entitled The Belles of Wil- 
 liamsburg, which were written and circulated in 
 that capital in 1777. They were mostly from his 
 pen, a few having been supplied by his intimate 
 friend Judge St. George Tucker. 
 
 TIIE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. 
 
 "Wilt thou, advent'rous pen, describe 
 The gay, delightful, silken tribe, 
 
 That maddens all our city; 
 Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim 
 A near approach to beauty's flame, 
 
 Icarus' fate may hit ye. 
 
 "With singed pinions tumbling down. 
 The scorn and laughter of the town, 
 Thou'lt rue thy daring flight; 
 
 While every miss with cool contempt, 
 Affronted by the bold attempt, 
 
 Will, tittering, view thy plight. 
 
 Ye girls, to you devoted ever, 
 The object still of our endeavor 
 
 Is somehow to amuse you ; 
 And if instead of higher praise 
 You only laugh at these rude lays, 
 
 We'll willingly excuse you. 
 
 Advance then, each illustrious maid, 
 In order bright to our parade, 
 
 With Beauty's ensigns gay; 
 And first, two nymphs who rural plains 
 Forsook, disdaining rural swains, 
 
 And here exert their sway. 
 
 Myrtilla's beauties who can paint? 
 
 The well-turned form, the glowing teint, 
 
 May deck a common creature ; 
 But who can make th' expressive soul 
 With lively sense inform the whole, 
 
 And light up every feature. 
 
 At church Myrtilla lowly kneels, 
 No passion but devotion feels, 
 
 No smiles her looks environ ; 
 But let her thoughts to pleasure fly, 
 The basilisk is in her eye 
 
 And on her tongue the Syren. 
 
 More vivid beauty — fresher bloom, 
 With teints from nature's richest loom 
 
 In Sylvia's features glow; 
 Would she Myrtilla's aits apply, 
 And catch the magic of her eye, 
 
 She'd rule the world below. 
 
 See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance, 
 Through all the mazes of the dance, 
 
 With light fantastic toe; 
 See laughter sparkle in her eyes — 
 At her approach new joys arise, 
 
 New fires within us glow. 
 
 Such sweetness in her look is seen 
 Such brilliant elegance of mien, 
 
 So jauntie and so airy; 
 Her image in our fancy reigns, 
 All night she gallops through our veins, 
 
 Like little Mab the fairy. 
 
 Aspasia next, with kindred soul, 
 Disdains the passions that control 
 
 Each gentle pleasing art; 
 Her sportive wit, her frolic lays, 
 And graceful form attract our praise, 
 
 And steal away the heart. 
 
 We see in gentle Delia's face, 
 Expressed by every melting grace, 
 
 The sweet complacent mind ; 
 While hovering round her soft desires. 
 And hope gay smiling fans their fires, 
 
 Each shepherd thinks her kind. 
 
 The god of love mistook the maid 
 For his own Psyche, and 'tis said 
 
 He still remains her slave ; 
 And when the boy directs her eyes 
 To pierce where every passion lies, 
 
 Not age itself can save. 
 
 With pensive look and head reclined, 
 Sweet emblems of the purest mind, 
 
 Lo ! where Cordelia sits ; 
 On Dion's image dwells the fair — 
 Dion the thunderbolt of war, 
 
 The prince of modern wits. 
 
THE REDWOOD LIBRARY. 
 
 iSo 
 
 Not far removed from her side, 
 Statira sits in be:iuty's pride, 
 
 And rolls about her eyes; 
 Thrice happy for the unwary heart 
 That affectation blunts the dart 
 
 That from her quiver flies. 
 
 Whence does that beam of beauty daw:, ? 
 What lustre overspreads the lawn? 
 
 What suns those rays dispense ? 
 From Artemisia's brow they came, 
 From Artemisia's eyes the flame 
 
 That dazzles every sense. 
 
 At length, fatigued with beauty's blaze 
 The feeble muse no more essays 
 
 Her picture to complete ; 
 The promised charms of younger girls 
 When nature the gay scene unfurls, 
 
 Some happier bard shall treat. 
 
 BEQtTEL TO TIIE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. 
 
 Ye bards that haunt the tufted shade, 
 Where murmurs thro' the hallowed glade, 
 
 The Heliconian spring. 
 Who bend before Apollo's shrine, 
 And dance and frolic with the nine, 
 
 Or touch the trembling string. 
 
 And ye who bask in beauty's blaze, 
 Enlivening as the orient rays 
 
 From fair Aurora's brow, 
 Or those which form her crescent shrine, 
 Where Cynthia with a look benign 
 
 Regards the world below. 
 
 Say why, amidst the vernal throng, 
 Whose vernal charms inspired your song 
 
 With sweet poetic lore, 
 With e:iger look the enraptured swain, 
 For Isidore's form in vain, 
 
 The picture should explore. 
 
 Shall sprightly Isidora yield 
 To Laura the distinguished field, 
 
 Amidst the vernal throng? 
 Or shall Aspasia's frolic lays 
 From Leouella snatch the bays, 
 
 The tribute of the song ? 
 
 Like hers, I ween, the blushing rose, 
 On Sylvia's polished cheek that glows, 
 
 And hers the velvet lip, 
 To which the cherry yields its hue. 
 Its plumpness and ambrosial dew 
 
 Which even Gods might sip. 
 
 What partial eye a charm can find, 
 In Delia's look, or Delia's mind, 
 
 Or Delia's melting grace, 
 Which cannot in Miranda's mien, 
 Or winning smile or brow serene, 
 
 A rival beauty trace. 
 
 Sweet as the balmy breath of spring, 
 Or odors from the painted wing 
 
 Of Zephyr as he flies, 
 Brunette's charms might surely claim, 
 Amidst the votaries of fame, 
 
 A title to the prize. 
 
 What giddy raptures fill the brain, 
 When tripping o'er the verdant plain, 
 
 Florella joins the throng! 
 Her look each throbbing pain beguiles, 
 Beneath her footsteps Nature smiles, 
 
 And joins the poet's song. 
 
 Here even critic Spleen shall find 
 Each beauty that adorns the mind, 
 Or decks the virgin's brow ; 
 
 Here Envy with her venomed dart, 
 Shall find no vulnerable part, 
 To aim the deadly blow. 
 
 Could such perfection naught avail? 
 Or could the fair Belinda fail 
 
 To animate your lays? 
 For might not such a nymph inspire 
 With sportive notes the trembling lyre 
 
 Attuned to virgin praise ? 
 
 The sister graces met the maid, 
 Beneath the myrtle's fragrant shade, 
 
 When love the season warms ; 
 Deluded by her graceful mien, 
 They fancied her the Cyprian queen, 
 
 And decked her with their charms. 
 
 Say then why thus with heedless flight, 
 The panegyric muse should slight 
 
 A train so blythe and fair, 
 Or why so soon fatigued, she flies 
 No longer in her native skies, 
 
 But tumbles through the air. 
 
 A portion of these lines on the fair belles of 
 Williamsburg has been happily introduced in 
 the excellent novel by John Esten Cooke, of the 
 Virginia Comedians, which introduces us in a 
 spirit of delicate sentiment and elevated romance 
 to the chivalric olden time of the state. In the 
 romantic sketch from the same pen, of the Youth 
 of Jefferson, Dr. M'Clurg is introduced as one 
 of the tine spirits of that day. 
 
 Dr. M'Clurg's talents as a medical writer are 
 spoken of with great respect. Dr. J. W. Francis, 
 in the article in Thaclier's Medical Biography, 
 speaks in reference to his discourse On Reason- 
 ing: i?i Nedieine* that " in his extensive views 
 of the study of physic, he considered every 
 branch of science as kindred and capable of 
 mutual illustration," and also notices "his purity 
 and classical elegance of style seldom attained by 
 writers on professional or scientific subjects." 
 
 THE REDWOOD LIBEAEY. 
 
 In 1730, an association of gentlemen at New- 
 port met together and formed themselves into a 
 " Society for the Promotion of Knowledge and 
 Virtue." The town then included some of the 
 most cultivated men of the country, whose intel- 
 lectual activity was stimulated by the presence of 
 Berkeley. The original members of this club, or 
 association, similar to Franklin's Junto, were 
 Daniel Updike, the Attorney General of the Colo- 
 ny, a distinguished lawyer and an intimate friend 
 of the dean; Peter Bours, a member of the Go- 
 vernment Council; James Searing; Edward 
 Scott; Henry Collins, a merchant of taste and 
 liberality; Nathan Townsend; Jeremiah Condy, 
 and James Honey man, Jun., the son of the Rector 
 of Trinity. It was chiefly, at first, a debating 
 society, but the collection of books soon became 
 an object, and a wealthy gentleman of the town, 
 Abraham Redwood, gave five hundred pounds 
 sterling for the purchase of standard works in 
 London, recommending the erection of a library 
 building. To secure this, the Society procured a 
 charter of incorporation from the Colony in 1747, 
 
 * Published in the Phila. Journal of the Medical and Physi- 
 cal Sciences, edited by Prof. Chapman, 
 
2S6 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 by the name of the Company of the Redwood 
 Library, in honor of its leading benefactor. Hen- i 
 ry Collins gave the lot of land on which the ; 
 building now stands, and the wealthy citizens of 
 the place subscribed five thousand pounds. The 
 library building was commenced in 1748, and ] 
 completed in 1750. The plan of the building, 
 which was furnished by Joseph Harrison, who l 
 had been engaged at Blenheim, has been much | 
 admired for its simple Doric elegance; the wings 
 on either side, which interfere with its propor- 
 tions, not belonging to the original conception. 
 
 The Eedwood Library. 
 
 A Abraham Redwood had removed to Newport 
 from Antigua. He possessed great wealth, 
 liberally expending it for charitable objects. He 
 was a member of the Society of Friends. He 
 died at Newport in 1788, in the seventy-ninth 
 year of his age. 
 
 Callender, the author of the Centennial His- 
 torical Discourse of Rhode Island, was one of the 
 members of the Society. Dr. Stiles, during his 
 residence on the island, consulted its literary 
 treasures, then rare in the country, and procured 
 additional volumes for its shelves. Channing has 
 recorded his debt of gratitude to its stores in the 
 culture of his youthful powers. " I had," he says, 
 " no professor or teacher to guide me, but I had 
 two noble places of study. One was yonder beau- 
 tiful edifice, now so frequented and so useful as a 
 public library, then so deserted that I spent day 
 after daj r , and sometimes week after week, 
 amidst its dusty volumes, without interruption 
 from a single visitor. The other place was yon- 
 der beach, the roar of which has so often mingled 
 with the worship of this place, my daily resort, 
 dear to me in the sunshine, still more attractive 
 in the storm."* 
 
 The library suffered somewhat in the Revolu- 
 tion, the British troops at their departure carry- 
 ing off some of the finest works. There are now 
 between six and seven thousand volumes. The 
 late Judah Touro, a native of Newport, bequeathed 
 three thousand dollars to the library company. 
 It has received, from time, to time, other valuable 
 donations, including the folio collection of the 
 English Historical Records, and gifts of land from 
 Solomon Southwick, of Albany, in 1813, and from 
 
 * Discourse at Newport, Works, iv. 337. 
 
 Abraham Redwood, of England, in 1834. The 
 Baron Ilottinguer, the Parisian hunker, connected 
 by marriage with the Redwood family, in 1837, 
 gave a thousand francs for the restoration of the 
 building* 
 
 JONATHAN MITCHEL SEW ALL. 
 
 The couplet, 
 
 No pent-up Utica contracts your powers, 
 But the whole boundless continent is yours, 
 
 is far better known than the poem of which it 
 forms a part.t than the remaining writings, or than 
 even the name of its author, Jonathan Mitchel 
 Sewall. It is a name that should be better 
 known and cherished, for it was borne by one 
 whose lyrics warmed the patriotism and cheered 
 the hearts of the soldiers of the Revolution in the 
 perils of the battle and the privations of the 
 camp. 
 
 Sewall was born at the old town of Salem, 
 Mass., in 1748. He was adopted at an early age, 
 on the deatli of his parents, by his uncle, Stephen 
 Sewall, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of 
 Massachusetts; and after passing through Harvard 
 College, devoted himself to merchandise, a pur- 
 suit which he soon abandoned for the study and 
 practice of the law. In 1774 he was Register of 
 Probate for Grafton county, N. II. He afterwards 
 removed to Portsmouth in the same state, where 
 he resided until his death, March 29, 1808. 
 
 He published a collection of his poems in a 
 small volume, in 18014 They are for the most 
 part the productions of his youth, and consist of 
 paraphrases of Ossian, patriotic odes, epilogues, 
 and a few epigrams. His War and Washington 
 was composed at the beginning of the American 
 Revolution, and sung by the army in all parts of 
 the country. 
 
 The couplet we have quoted is found in an 
 epilogue to the tragedy of Cato, written in 1778. 
 It is occupied by a parallel between the scenes 
 and characters which have just passed before the 
 spectators' eyes and those in which author and 
 audience were alike participants. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO CATO. 
 
 Written ia 1778. 
 You see mankind the same in ev'ry age: 
 Heroic fortitude, tyrannic rage, 
 Boundless ambition, patriotic truth, 
 And hoary treason, and untainted youth, 
 Have deeply niark'd all periods, and all climes: 
 The noblest virtues, and the blackest crimes ! 
 
 Britannia's daring sins, and virtues both, 
 Perhaps once mark'd the Vandal and the Goth. 
 And what now gleams with dawning ray at home, 
 Onee blaz'd in full-orb'd majesty at Rome. 
 
 Did Caesar, drunk with pow'r, and madly brave, 
 Insatiate burn, his country to enslave? 
 Did he for this lead forth a servile host, 
 And spill the choicest blood that Rome could boasl. 
 Our British Caesar too has done the same, 
 And damn'd this age to everlasting fame. 
 
 * Jewett's Public Libraries, pp. 48-53. Elton's Memoir of 
 Callender. Mason's Newport Illustrated. 
 
 t It was brought into vogue, witli a slight change, as tho 
 motto of Park Benjamin's newspaper, the New World. 
 
 % Miscellaneous Poems, with several specimens from tho 
 Author's Manuscript version of the Poems of Ossian. by J. M. 
 Sewall, Esq., Portsmouth. Printed by William Treadwcll & 
 Co. for the Author, 1801. 
 
JONATHAN MITCHEL SEW ALL. 
 
 287 
 
 Columbia's erimson'il fields still smoke with gore! 
 Her bravest heroes cover nil the shore ! 
 The tiow'r of Britain too in martial bloom, 
 In one sa 1 year seat headlong to the tomb 1 
 
 Did Ro. lie's brave senate nobly strive t' oppose 
 The mighty torrent of domestic foes? 
 And boldly arm the virtuous few, and dare 
 The desp'rate perils of unequal war? 
 
 Our senate, too, the same bold deed has done. 
 And for a C.vro, arm'd a WASHINGTON ! 
 A chief in all the ways of battle skill'd, 
 Great in the council, glorious in tde field! 
 Thy scourge, O Britain! and Columbia's boast, 
 The dread, a id admiration of each host! 
 Whose martial arm, and steady soul, alone 
 Have male thy legions quake, thy empire groan, 
 A id thy p 'O 1 1 monarch tremble on his throne. 
 What now tiiou art, oh, ever uiay'st thou be, 
 And death the lot of any chief b it thee ! 
 We've had our Decius too, and Hoive can say 
 Health, pardon, peace, George sends America ! 
 Yet brings d&jtruction for the olive-wreath, 
 For health contagio i, and for pardon death. 
 In brave Fayeti'E young Juba lives again, 
 And many a .Marcus bleeds on yonder plain. 
 Like Pompev, Warkex fell in martial pride. 
 x\.nd great Montgomery like Scipio dy'd! 
 In Green the hero, patriot, sage we see, 
 And Lucius, Juba, Cato, shine in thee I 
 When Rome receiv'd her last decisive blow, 
 Hadst thou, immortal Gates, been Cassar's foe, 
 All-perfect discipline had oheck'd his sway, 
 And thy superior conduct wo i the day. 
 Freedom had triumph'd on Pharsalian ground, 
 Nor Sara-tog Ts heights been more reuown'd ! 
 Long as heroic deeds the soul enflame. 
 Eternal praise bold Stark will ever claim, 
 AVlio led thy glorious way, and gave thee half thy 
 
 fame. 
 See persevering Arnold proudly scale 
 Canadia's alpine lulls, a second Hannibal! 
 In Caesar's days had such a daring mind 
 With Washington's serenity been join'd, 
 The tyrant the i had bled, great Cato liv'd, 
 Ami Rome in all her majesty survival. 
 What praise, what gratitude, are due to thee, 
 
 Oh brave, experieue'd, all-accomplish'd Lee ? 
 The sword, the pen, thou dost alternate wield, 
 
 Nor Julius' self to thee would blush to yield. 
 
 And while Sempromus' bellowings stun the ear, 
 
 I see the traitor Churcu his thunders hear. 
 
 " But all was false, and hollow, tho' his tongue 
 
 Dropt manna," with the garb of reason hung. 
 
 Ere long the wily Svpiiax may advance, 
 
 And Afric faith be verify'd in France. 
 
 How long, deluded by that faithless pow'r, 
 
 Will ye dream on, nor seize the golden hour i 
 
 In vain do ye rely on foreign aid, 
 
 By her own arm and heaven's Columbia must be 
 freed. 
 Rise then, my countrymen ! for fight prepare, 
 
 Gird on your swords, rind fearless rush to war! 
 
 For your grieV'd country nobly dare to die, 
 
 And empty all your veins for liberty. 
 
 No pent-up Utica contracts your pow'rs, 
 
 But the whole boundless continent is yours! 
 
 " Rouse up, for shame ! your brethren slain in 
 war, 
 
 Or groaning now in ignominious bondage, 
 
 Point at their wounds and chains, and cry aloud 
 
 To battle! Washington impatient mourns 
 
 His scanty legions, and demands your aid. 
 
 Intrepid Lee still clanks his galling fetters! 
 
 Montgomery complains that we are slow! 
 
 And Wabren's ghost stalks unreveng'd among us!" 
 
 eulogy on laughing. 
 Ddivered at an Exhibition by a Young Lady. 
 Like merry Momus, while the Gods were quaffing, 
 I come — to give an eulogy on laughing ! 
 True, courtly Chesterfield, with critic zeal, 
 Asserts that laughiiig's vastly iingentecl ! 
 The boist'rous shake, lie says, distorts fine faces, 
 And robs each pretty feature of the graces! 
 But yet this paragon of perfect taste, 
 On other topics was not over-chaittc ; 
 He like the Pharisees in this appears, 
 They ruin'd widows, but they made long pray'rs. 
 Tithe, anise, mint, they zealously affected: 
 But the law's weightier matters lay neglected ; 
 And while an insect strains their squeamish caul, 
 Down goes a monstrous camel — bunch and all ! 
 
 Yet others, quite as sage, with warmth dispute 
 Man's risibles distinguish him from brute; 
 While instinct, reason, both in common own, 
 To laugh is man's prerogative alone! 
 
 Hail, rosy laughter! tnou deserv'st the bays! 
 Come, with thy dimples, animate these lays, 
 Whilst universal peals attest thy praise. 
 Daughter of Joy ! thro' thee we health attain, 
 When Esculapian recipes are vain. 
 
 Let sentimentalists ring in our ears 
 The tender joy of grief — the luxury of tears — 
 Heraclitus may whine — and oh! and ah! — 
 I like an honest, hearty, ha, hah, hah! 
 It makes the wheels of nature glibber play; 
 Dull care suppresses; smooths life's thorny way; 
 Propels the dancing current thro' each vein; 
 Braces the nerves ; corroborates the brain ; 
 Shakes ev'ry muscle, and throws off the spleen. 
 
 Old Homer makes you tenants of the skies, 
 His Gods love langhi g as they did their eyes! 
 It kept them in good humour, hush'd their squabbles, 
 As froward children are appeas'd by baubles; 
 Ev'n Jove the tliund'rer dearly lov'd a laugh, 
 When, of fine nectar, he had taken a quail! 
 It helps digestion when the feast runs high, 
 And dissipates the fumes of potent Bui gin. dy. 
 
 But, in the main, tho' laughing 1 approve, 
 It is not e\''vy kind of laugh I love; 
 For many laughs e'en candor must condemn! 
 Some are too full of acid, some of phlegm ; 
 The loud horse-laugh (improperly so styl'd), 
 The ideot simper, like the slumb ring child, 
 Th' affected laugh, to show a dimpled chin, 
 The sneer contemptuous, and broad vacant grin, 
 Are despicable all, as Strephon's smile, 
 To show his ivory legions, rank and file. 
 
 The honest laugh, unstudied, uuacquir'd, 
 By nature prompted, and true wit inspir'd, 
 Such as Quin felt, and Falstaff knew before, 
 When humor set the table on a roar ; 
 Alone deserves th' applauding muse's grace I 
 The rest — is all contortion and grimace. 
 But you exclaim, " Your Eulogy's too dry; 
 Leave dissertation and exemplify ! 
 Prove, by experiment, your maxims true; 
 And, what you praise so highly make us do." 
 
 In troth 1 hop'd this was already done, 
 And Mirth and Momus had the laurel won! 
 Like honest Hodge, unhappy should 1 fail, 
 AVho to a crowded audience told his tale. 
 And laugh'd and snigger'd all the while himself 
 To grace the story, as he thought, poor elf! 
 But not a single soul his suffrage gave — 
 While each long phiz was serioun as the gravel 
 Laugh ! laugh ! cries Hodge, laugh loi d ! (no 
 halfaig) 
 I theuglit you all, e'er this, would die with laughing ! 
 This did the feat; for, tickled at the whim, 
 A burst of laughter, like the electric beam, 
 
•28S 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Shook all the audience — but it wms at him! 
 Like Hodge, should ev'ry stratagem and wile 
 Thro' my long story, not excite a smile, 
 I'll bear it with becoming modest} - ; 
 But should my feeble efforts move your glee, 
 Laugh, if you fairly can — but not at ME ! 
 
 WAR AND WASHINGTON. 
 
 A Song, Composed at the beginning of the American 
 Revolution. 
 
 Vain BRITONS, boast no longer with proud in- 
 dignity, 
 
 By land your conqu'ring legions, your matchless 
 strength at sea, 
 
 Since we, your braver sons ineens'd, our swords 
 have girded on, 
 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for WAR and WASH- 
 INGTON. 
 
 Urg'd on by North and vengeance those valiant 
 
 champions came. 
 Loud bellowing Tea and Treason and George was all 
 
 on flame, 
 Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on. 
 And laugh at all their empty puffs, huzza for 
 
 WASHINGTON! 
 
 Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England's 
 good. 
 
 You have for thirty pieces betray'd your country's 
 blood. 
 
 Like Esop's greedy cur you'll gain a shadow for 
 your bone, 
 
 Yet find us fearful shades indeed, inspir'd by WASH- 
 INGTON. 
 
 Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible! 
 The blimd'ring schemes of Britain their folly, pride, 
 
 and zeal, 
 Like lions how ye growl and threat ! mere asses 
 
 have you shown, 
 And ye shall share an ass's fate, and drudge for 
 
 WASHINGTON ! 
 
 Your dark, unfathom'd councils our weakest heads 
 
 defeat, 
 Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy 
 
 your fleet, 
 And to complete the dire disgrace, coop'd up within 
 
 a town, 
 You live, the scorn of all our host, the slaves of 
 
 WASHINGTON ! 
 
 Great Heay'n ! is this the nation whose thund'ring 
 arms were hurl'd, 
 
 Thro' Europe, Afric, India ? whose Navy rul'd a 
 World? 
 
 The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of re- 
 nown, 
 
 Lost in a moment, or transferr'd to us and WASH- 
 INGTON ! 
 
 Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our venge- 
 ful swords 
 
 To rend your bands asunder, and cast away your 
 cords. 
 
 Tis heav'n-born FREEDOM fires us all, and strength- 
 ens each brave son, 
 
 From him who humbly guides the plough, to god- 
 like WASHINGTON. 
 
 For this, Oh could our wishes your ancient rage 
 
 inspire, 
 Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force, 
 
 and fire. 
 Then might the glorious conflict prove which best 
 
 deserv'd the boon, 
 America or Albion, a George or WASHINGTON ! 
 
 Fir'd witli the great idea, our Fathers' shades 
 
 would rise, 
 To view the stern contention, the gods desert their 
 
 skies. 
 Aud Wolfe, 'midst hosts of heroes, superior bending 
 
 down, 
 Cry out with eager transport, God save great 
 
 WASHINGTON ! 
 
 Should Gf.orge, too choice of Britons, to foreign 
 
 realms apply, 
 And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy 
 Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those pow'rs 
 
 in one, 
 While Adams guides our senate, our camp great 
 
 WASHINGTON! 
 
 Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish 
 
 fears. 
 To swords we'll beat our ploughshares, our pruning- 
 
 hooks to spears, 
 And rush, all desp'rate ! on our foe, nor breathe 'till 
 
 battle won, 
 Then shout, and shout AMERICA ! and conqu'ring 
 
 WASHINGTON ! 
 
 Proud France should view with terror, and 
 haughty Spain revere, 
 
 While ev'ry warlike nation would court alliancehere. 
 
 Aud George, his minions trembling round, dismount- 
 ing from his throne 
 
 Pay homage to AMERICA and glorious WASHING- 
 TON" ! 
 
 HUGH HENET BEACKENEIDGE, 
 Trre democratic politician and judge, eminent 
 for his social wit, and the author of one of the 
 finest political satires which the country has pro- 
 duced, was born in the year 1748 near Campbel- 
 ton, in Scotland. He was brought by his 
 father, a poor farmer, to America, when he was 
 five years old. The family settled down on a 
 small lease farm, in York county, Pennsylvania, 
 west of the Susquehannah, on the borders of 
 Maryland. The difficulties of his position did 
 not prevent the youth securing a good education, 
 partly from the country school, but mainly from 
 an intelligent and painstaking clergyman of the 
 region, who gave him some lessons in Latin and 
 Greek. The mother encouraged the bookish 
 efforts of her son, who would travel during the 
 Sunday's intermission from work, twenty or 
 thirty miles, to secure a volume or a newspaper. 
 A copy of Horace, of which he came into pos- 
 session, he left one day in the field, when it was 
 munched by a cow. Meeting with a young man 
 possessed of some knowledge of mathematics, lie 
 exchanged with him his Latin and Greek for that 
 acquisition. At the age of fifteen he applied for 
 the situation of teacher at a free school in Mary- 
 land, and secured the position. His juvenile 
 years exposed him to some opposition from his 
 older pupils, one of whom resisted his authority 
 by force. Brackenridge " seized a brand from 
 the fire, knocked tiie rebel down, and spread ter- 
 ror around him."* With the small means which 
 he laid up in this employment, he made his way 
 to the college at Princeton, then under the charge 
 of President Wither-poon. He was admitted, 
 and supported himself in the higher classes by 
 
 * We are indebted for this, as for the other anecdotes in tills 
 account, to the Biographical Notice by II. M. Brackenridge, 
 of Pittsburgh, appended to the edition of Modern Chivalry, of 
 1S46. 
 
HUGH HENRY BRAOKENRIDGE. 
 
 289 
 
 teaching tlie lower. His name appears on the 
 list of graduates in 1771, with Gunning Bed- 
 ford, Samuel Spring, James Madison, and Philip 
 Frenean. In conjunction with the last, he deli- 
 vered at the Commencement a poem in dialogue 
 between Acasto and Eugenio, on the Rising 
 Glory of America, which was published the 
 next year in Philadelphia.* The part which he 
 wrote is easily separated, since Frcneau after- 
 wards published his portion separately in the 
 edition of his poems in 1795. The verse of 
 Braokenridge is smooth and glowing, and is tinc- 
 tured with a grave religious tone. 
 
 Braokenridge continued a tutor in the college 
 after taking his first degree, and studied divinity. 
 He was licensed to preach, though not ordained, 
 and undertook, at a profitable remuneration, for 
 several years, the charge of an academy in Mary- 
 land. 
 
 His patriotic feeling on the breaking out of 
 the devolution induced him to prepare a drama- 
 tic production, entitled Bunker's Hill, which was ! 
 recited by his pupils. It was published in 177li,t 
 with a dedication " to Richard Stockton, Esq., I 
 Member of the Honorable the Continental Con- 
 gress, for the state of New Jersey." It has a 
 Prologue spoken " by a Lieutenant-Colonel in the 
 Continental army," and an Epilogue, " written by ! 
 a gentleman of the army, supposed to be spoken i 
 immediately after the battle, by Lieutenant-Col. 
 Webb, aide-de-camp to General Putnam." The 
 dramatis persona are Warren, Putnam, and Gar- 
 diner, for the American officers; Gage, 'Howe, 
 Burgoyne, Clinton, and Lord Pigot, for the Bri- 
 tish. There is no lady in the case. Warren 
 opens with an address to Putnam, to which the 
 latter responds in sympathy, and Warren pro- 
 poses the fortification of Bunker's Hill. Among 
 the British at Boston, Burgoyne chafes over the 
 confinement of the British troops. Gage re- 
 plies — 
 
 Tiiis mighty paradox will soon dissolve. 
 Hear first, Burgoyne, the valour of these men. 
 Fir'd with the zeal of fiercest liberty, 
 No fear of death, so terrible to all, 
 Can stop their rage. Grey-headed clergymen, 
 With holy bible and continual prayer, 
 Bear up their fortitude — -and talk of heav'n, 
 And tell them that sweet soul, who dies iu battle, 
 Shall walk with spirits of the just. 
 
 Howe compliments the enemy further — 
 Not strange to your maturer thought, Burgoyne, 
 This matter will appear. A people brave, 
 
 * A Poem, on the Rising Glory of America, being an Exer- 
 cise delivered at the Public Commencement at .Nassau Hall, 
 September 25, 1TT1. 
 
 ■ Venient annis 
 
 Specula seris, quibus oceanus 
 Vincula rerum laset et ingeos 
 Pateat tellus, Typhisque novos 
 I»etegat orbes : nee sit terris 
 Ultima Thule. 
 
 Seneca. Med. Act iii. v. 875. 
 Philadelphia: Printed by Joseph Cruikshank, for E. Aitken, 
 Bookseller, oppo.-ite tbe Loudon Coffee-House, in Front- 
 street. 1772. 
 
 t The Battle of Bunker's Hill. A dramatic piece, of Are 
 Acts, in heroic measure ; by a Gentleman of Maryland. 
 
 Pulchrumque nrori succurrit in armis. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 ris glorious to die in battle. 
 
 Philadelphia: Printed aud Sold by Robert Bell, in Third- 
 street. 1776. 
 VOL. I.— 19 
 
 Who never yet, of luxury, or soft 
 
 Delights, effeminate and false, have tasted. 
 
 But, through hate of chains, and slav'ry, suppos'd, 
 
 Forsake their mountain tops, and rush to arms. 
 
 Oft have I heard their valour published : 
 
 Their perseverance, and untameable 
 
 Fiei'ee mind, when late they fought with us, and 
 
 drove 
 The French, encroaching on their settlements, 
 Baek to their frozen lakes. Or when with us 
 On Cape Breton, they stormed Louisburg. 
 With us. in Canada, they took Quebec ; 
 And at the Havamiah, these New England Men, 
 Led on by Putnam, acted gallantly. 
 
 The assault is made, and Warren falls. This 
 is a portion of his dying speech : — 
 
 Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause 
 Aud risking life, have met the enemy, 
 In fatal opposition. But rejoice — 
 For now I go to mingle with the dead, 
 Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney, and the rest, 
 Of old or modern memory, who liv'd, 
 A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings; 
 Bounding the indignation of their rage 
 Against the happiness and peace of man. 
 I see these heroes, where they walk serene, 
 By chrystal currents, on the vale of Heaven, 
 High iu full converse of immortal acts, 
 Achiev'd for truth and innocence on earth. 
 Meantime the harmony and thrilling sound 
 Of mellow lutes, sweet viols aud guitars, 
 Dwell on the soul, and ravish ev'ry nerve. 
 Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum. 
 With finely varied fifes to martial airs, 
 Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof 
 Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms. 
 Illustrious group ! They beckon me along, 
 To ray my visage with immortal light, 
 And bind the amaranth around my brow. 
 I come, I come, ye first-born of true fame; 
 Fight on, my countrymen ; Be free, be free. 
 
 Appended to the Poem are the two following 
 Lyrics : — 
 
 AN ODE ON TTTE BATTLE OF BrTNKER'S-niLL. 
 
 Sung and acted by a Soldier, in a Mittiary Habit, with hi* 
 Firelock, tfic, in the same Meaxwewffll aSeapiece, entitled 
 tlie Temped. 
 
 " Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer." 
 
 You bold warriors, who resemble 
 
 Flames upon tlie distant hill ; 
 At whose view the heroes tremble, 
 
 Fighting with unequal skill. 
 Loud-sounding drums, now with hoarse mur- 
 murs, 
 
 Rouse the spirit up to war; 
 Fear not, fear not, though their numbers, 
 
 Much to ours superior are. 
 Hear brave Warren, bold commanding: 
 " Gallant souls aud vet'rans brave, 
 See the enemy just landing, 
 
 From the navy-cover'd wave. 
 Close the wings — advance the centre — 
 
 Engineers point well your guns — 
 Clap the matches — let the rent air 
 
 Bellow to Britannia's sons." 
 
 n. 
 Now, think you see three thousand moving, 
 
 bp the brow of Bunker's Hill; 
 Many a gallant vet'ran shoving 
 
 Cowards on, against their will. 
 
290 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The curling volumes all behind them, 
 
 Dusky clouds of smoke arise ; 
 Our cannon-balls, brave boys, 6hall find them, 
 
 At each shot a hero dies. 
 Once more. Warren, 'midst this terror, 
 " Charge, brave soldiers, charge again; 
 Many an expert vet'rau warrior 
 
 Of the enemy is slain. 
 Level "well your charged pieces, 
 
 In direction to the town ; 
 They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases ; 
 
 That shot brought six standards dowu." 
 
 m. 
 
 Maids in virgin beauty blooming, 
 
 On Britannia's sea-girt isle, 
 Say no more your swains are coming, 
 
 Or with soi.gs the day beguile. 
 For sleeping found in death's embraces, 
 
 On their clay-cold beds they lie ; 
 Death, grim death, alas, defaces 
 
 Youth and pleasure, which must die. 
 " March the right wing, Gard'ner, yonder; 
 
 The hero spirit lives in thunder ; 
 Take th' assailing foe in flank, 
 
 Close there, serjeants, close that rank. 
 The conflict now doth londly call on 
 
 Highest proof of martial skill; 
 Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on 
 
 The slipp'ry brow of Busker's Hill." 
 
 rv. 
 Unkindest fortune, still thou changest, 
 
 As the wind upon the wave ; 
 The good and bad alike thou rangest, 
 
 Undistiuguish'd in the grave. 
 Shall kingly tyrants see thee 6miling, 
 
 Whilst the brave and just must die ; 
 Them of sweet hope and life beguiling 
 
 In the arms of victory. 
 " Behave this day, my lads, with spirit, 
 
 Wrap the hill top as in flame ; 
 Oh ! if we fall, let each one merit 
 
 Immortality in famo. 
 From this high ground, like VesiVus, 
 
 Pour the floods of fire along; 
 Let not, let not numbers move us, 
 
 We are yet five hundred strong." 
 
 v. 
 Many a widow sore bewailing 
 
 Tender husbands, shall remain, 
 With tears and sorrows, unavailing, 
 
 From this hour to mourn them slain. 
 The rude scene striking all by-standers, 
 
 Bids the little band retire; 
 Who can live like salamanders, 
 
 In such floods of liquid fire? 
 " Ah, our troops are sorely pressed — 
 
 Howe ascends the smoky hill ; 
 Wheel inward, let these ranks be faced, 
 
 We have yet some blood to spill. 
 Our right wing push'd, our left surrounded, 
 
 Weight of numbers five to one; 
 Warren dead, and Garu'.ner wounded — 
 
 Ammunition is quite gone." 
 
 See the steely points, bright gleaming 
 
 In the sun's fierce dazzling ray ; 
 Groans arising, life-blood streaming, 
 
 Purple o'er the face of day. 
 The field is cover'd with the dying, 
 
 Free-men mixt with tyrants lie, 
 The living with each other yieing, 
 
 Raise the shout of battle high. 
 
 Now brave Putnam, aged soldier: 
 
 " Come, my vet'rans, we must yield ; 
 
 More equal match'd, we'll yet charge bolder, 
 
 For the present quit the field. 
 The God of battles shall revisit 
 
 On their heads each soul that dies; 
 Take courage, boys, we yet shan't miss it, 
 
 From a thousand victories." 
 
 A MILITARY SONG, BY TnE ABUT, ON GENERAL WASHINGTON'S 
 VICTORIOUS ENTRY INTO THE TOWN OF BOSTON. 
 
 Sons of valor, taste the glories 
 
 Of celestial Liberty ; 
 Sing a triumph o'er the Tories, 
 
 Let the pulse of joy beat high. 
 
 Heaven, this day, hath foil'd the many. 
 
 Fallacies of George their king ; 
 Let the echo reach Britany, 
 
 Bid her mountain summits ring. 
 
 See yon navy swell the bosom 
 
 Of the late enraged sea; 
 Where-e'er the\ T go we shall oppose them, 
 
 Sons of valour must be free. 
 
 Should they touch at fair Rhode-Islakk, 
 There to combat with the brave ; 
 
 Driven from each hill and high-land, 
 They shall plough the purple wave. 
 
 Should they thence to fair Virgin! 
 
 Bend a squadron to Dunmore ; 
 Still with fear and ignominy, 
 
 They shall quit the hostile shore. 
 
 To Carolina or to Georgy, 
 
 Should they next advance their fame, 
 This land of heroes shall disgorge the 
 
 Sons of tyranny and shame. 
 
 Let them rove to climes far distant, 
 
 Situate under Arctic skies, 
 Call on Hessian troops assistant, 
 
 And the savages to rise 
 
 Boast of wild brigades from Russia, 
 
 To fix down the galling chain; 
 Canada and Nova Scotia 
 
 Shall discharge these hordes again. 
 
 In New York state, rejoined by Clinton, 
 Should their standards mock the air, 
 
 Many a surgeon shall put lint on 
 Wounds of death, received there. 
 
 War, fierce war, 6hall break their forces, 
 
 Nerves of Tory men shall fail, 
 Seeing Howe with alter'd courses, 
 
 Bending to the western gale. 
 
 Thus, from every bay of ocean, 
 Flying back, with sails unfurl'd; 
 
 Tost with evcr-troubl'd motion, 
 They shall quit this smiling world. 
 
 Like Satan, banished from Heaven, 
 
 Never see the smiling shore, 
 From this land so happy, driven, 
 
 Never stain its bosom more. 
 
 On going to Philadelphia in 1776, Brackenridge 
 supported himself by editing the United States 
 Magazine, a periodical of which an anecdote of his 
 editorship is given by his son. "At one time the 
 magazine contained some severe strictures on the 
 celebrated General Lte, and censured him for his 
 conduct to Washington. Lee, in a rage, called at 
 the office, in company with one or two of his 
 
HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE. 
 
 291 
 
 aides, with the intention of assaulting the editor; 
 he knocked at the door, while Mr. Braekenridge, 
 looking out of the upper story window, inquired 
 what was wanting? 'Come down,' said Lee, 
 1 and I'll give you as good a horse-whipping as 
 any rascal ever received.' ' Excuse me, general,' 
 said the other, ' I would not go down for two 
 Such favors.' " 
 
 Like D wight and Barlow, Braekenridge was a 
 chaplain in the Revolutionary army, preaching 
 political sermons in the camp. Six"of them wvre- 
 published at the time in a pamphlet, which had a 
 large circulation. He delivered an oration on the 
 4th July, 1778, in honor of those fallen in the 
 war, in the Dutch Reformed Church in Philadel- 
 phia. 
 
 The hent of his mind was not formed for the 
 Scotch Presbyterian theology, so lie relinquished 
 the pulpit for the bar, and studied law with Sa- j 
 muel Chase, at Annapolis. His son tells us, in his 
 biographical notice, that " although licensed to j 
 preach, he was never ordained nor formally con- I 
 secrated to tlie ministry. As he grew older he j 
 .became convinced that his natural temperament I 
 called Win to the scenes of active life. Besides, 
 he found himself unable to yield a full as-ent to 
 all the tenets of the church in which he had 
 been educated.' He declared that for two whole 
 years he laboured most sincerely and assiduously 
 to convince himself, but in vain ; and he could 
 not think of publicly maintaining doctrines, in 
 which he did not privately believe. On one oc- 
 casion, in conversation with a Scotch clergyman, 
 he stated his difficulties. The other replied to 
 him that he was pretty much in the same predica- 
 ment. ' Then, how do you reconcile it to your 
 conscience to preach doctrines of whose truth 
 you are not fully convinced V ' Hoot, man,' said 
 he, ' I dinna think much about it— I explain the 
 doctrine, as I wud a system o' moral philosophy 
 or metaphysics ; and if I dinna just understand 
 it noo, the time may come when I shall; and in 
 the meantime I put my faith in wiser men, who 
 established the articles, and in those whose heads 
 
 are sufficiently clear to understand them. And 
 if we were tae question but ane o' these doctrines, 
 it wud be like taking a stane out o' a biggin ; the 
 whole wa' might fa' doon.' " 
 
 In 1781, Braekenridge crossed the Alleghanies 
 and established himself at Pittsburg — from which 
 region he was sent to the State Legislature. His 
 subsequent participation with Gallatin in the 
 Whiskey Insurrection brought him into general ' 
 notice in the agitations of that period. As a 
 western man he thought the excise law which the 
 rioters attempted to put down, oppressive. It 
 was impossible not to engage to some extent in 
 their movements, while he exerted his powers to re- 
 gulate and restrain the actors from the commission 
 of treason. When that affair was over he took 
 pains to vindicate his conduct by procuring letters 
 from the most eminent parties in reply to a cir- 
 cular letter, and by the publication of his Incidents 
 of the Insurrection in the Western Parts of Penn- 
 sylvania in 1794, which was published the follow- 
 ing year at Philadelphia. 
 
 The scenes which he passed through, and his 
 experience of political life, gave him the material 
 for his Modern Chivalry, or the Adventures of 
 Captain Farrago, and league O 1 Regan, his Ser- 
 vant, the first part of which was published in • 
 1796 at Pittsburgh. The second portion was *■ 
 issued after an interval of ten years. The whole 
 of Modern Chivalry, with the last corrections 
 and additions of the author, was published in two 
 volumes at Pittsburgh in 1819, a book which is 
 now exceedingly rare. The Philadelphia edition 
 of 1846, illustrated by Darley, contains only the 
 contents of the first volume of the former edition. 
 It was edited by the author's son, II. M. Bracken 
 ridge, with a preface and biographical sketch. It 
 is there remarked that this work " is believed 
 to be entirely unknown in Europe, and that it has 
 never been noticed by any review." We may 
 quote from the editor's preface an anecdote of the 
 author and his reputation in the West : — ■ 
 
 The author used to relate an incident which oc- 
 curred to him at a place where he was detained a 
 day, in consequence of having missed the stage, and 
 feeling ennui, asked the landlord whether he had 
 anything amusing to read. " That I have," said he, 
 at the same time opening a little desk in his bar, and 
 producing a torn volume' of "Modern Chivalry." 
 " There," said he, " is something will make you 
 laugh; and the man that wrote it was no fool 
 neither." When the author's descendants or rela- 
 tives happen to be travelling, the first question al- 
 most invariably asked of them is, " Are you related 
 to the author of Modern Chivalry?" One of them 
 having landed on the Mississippi, with the intention 
 of going to St. Louis, a distance of two hundred 
 miles by land, on making inquiries for some mode 
 of conveyance, was addressed by a stranger in these 
 words : " I understand, sir, your name is Braeken- 
 ridge. Are you related to the author of Modern 
 Chivalry?" And on being answered in the affirma- 
 tive, immediately offered his horse, telling him to 
 keep him until an opportunity should offer of re- 
 turning him. 
 
 In the West, Modern Chivalry is, or deserves 
 to be, regarded as a kind of aboriginal classic. It 
 has the rough flavor of the frontier settlement in 
 its manly sentiment, and not particularly delicate 
 expression. Braekenridge was an eccentric man 
 
202 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in his manners, though of vigorous sense. This 
 book shows his humors in perfection, and so far 
 as his ways of thinking go is autobiographic. It 
 exhibits a warm, generous nature, and a man of 
 much reading and reflection. The story, with its 
 few incidents, is modelled upon Hudibras and 
 Don Quixote, and productions of that ilk. The 
 humor is after Sterne and Fielding, whose exam- 
 ple would have been nothing without the natural 
 ability of the writer to profit by it. 
 
 Captain Farrago is a type of the author ; his ser- 
 vant Teague O'liegan is a humorous invention 
 which does capital execution with the dema- 
 gogues, sciolists, and other pretenders of the day. 
 The work had an object to sow a few seeds of 
 political wisdom among his fellow citizens, then 
 little experienced in the use of political power, 
 and its lessons in this way are profitable still. 
 The Captain is the representative of Don Quixote, 
 a clear-headed man, who-e independent way of 
 looking at things, from living out of the world, 
 has gained him the reputation of eccentricity. 
 He is withal a practical wag, setting out with his 
 Irish servant in quest of adventures. The gist of 
 Ms observation and experience lies in this, that 
 the duties and responsibilities of a new state of 
 society have been thrust upon a rao of men so 
 suddenly, that, unused to their new democratic 
 privileges, they are very much in the way of 
 abusing them. Without political knowledge they 
 are ready to send the weaver to Congress ; with- 
 out learning the leatherheads rush in as members 
 of the philosophical society, and appoint, after 
 the manner of Dr. O'Toole, a native Irishman to 
 a Greek profes^or ? hip. Teague O'Regan is con- 
 stantly in danger. He is in momentary risk of 
 being decoyed from his master, made a clergy- 
 man of, elected to the philosophical society, or 
 spirited away to the legislature. After awhile 
 Teague learns to tell one foot from another by the 
 aid of a Philadelphia dancing master, is introduced 
 at the President's levee, and gets the appointment 
 of Collector of the Excise in the Alleghanies. 
 This leads to a tarring and feathering, which was 
 doubtless drawn from the author's reminiscences 
 of the Whiskey Insurrection. In the meanwhile 
 the Captain has procured a Scottish servant, Dun- 
 can, whose dialect is better sustained than that 
 of his Irish predecessor. Brackenridge's law 
 learning, his . College reading, his' schoolmaster's 
 acquisition, his roughly acquired knowledge of 
 the world, are all displayed in this book. His ex- 
 planation of bis use of the character of the Irish 
 clown is curious, and the remarks which follow 
 are a truthful plea for fiction. 
 
 It has been asked, why, in writing this memoir, 
 have I taken my clown from the Irish nation? The 
 character of the English clown, I did not well un- 
 derstand; nor could I imitate the manner of speak- 
 ing That of the Scotch I have tried, as may be 
 seen, in the character of Duncan. But I found it, 
 in my hands, rather insipid. The character of the 
 Irish clown, to use the language of Rousseau, " has 
 more stuff in it." He will attempt anything. 
 
 The American has in fact, yet, no character; 
 neither the clown, nor the gentleman ; so that I 
 eould not take one from our own country ; which I 
 would much rather have done, as the scene lay here. 
 But the midland states of America, and the western 
 parts in general, being half Ireland, the character 
 
 ] of the Irish clown will not be wholly misunderstood. 
 It is true the clown is taken from the aboriginal 
 Irish; a character not so well known in the North 
 of that country; nevertheless, it is still so 'much 
 known, even there, and amongst the emigrants here 
 or their descendants, that it will not be wholly 
 thrown away. 
 
 On the Irish stages it is a standing character; and 
 on the theatre in Britain it is also introduced. I 
 have not been able to do it justice, being but half 
 an Irishman myself, and not so well acquainted 
 with the reversions, and idiom, of the genuine 
 Thady, as I could wish. However, the imitation, at 
 a distance from the original, will better pass than 
 if it had been written, and read, nearer home. For- 
 eigners will not so readily distinguish the incongrui- 
 ties ; or, as it is the best we can produce for the 
 present, will more indulgently consider them. 
 
 I think it the duty of every man who possesses a 
 faculty, and perhaps a facility of drawing such 
 images, as will amuse his neighbour, to lend a hand, 
 and do something. Have those authors done nothing 
 for the world, whose works would seem to have had 
 no other object but to amuse ? In low health ; after 
 the fatigue of great mental exertion on solid disqui- 
 sition ; in pain of mind, from disappointed passions ; 
 or broken with the sensibilities of sympathy and 
 affection ; it is a relief to try not to think, and this 
 is attainable, in some degree, by light reading. Un- 
 der sensations of this kind, I have had recourse 
 more than once to Don Quixote ; which doubtless 
 contains a great deal of excellent moral sentiment. 
 But, at the same time, has much that can serve only 
 to amuse. Even in health, and with a flow of spirits, 
 from prosperous affairs, it diversifies enjoyments, and 
 adds to the happiness of which the mind is capable. 
 I I trust, therefore, that the gravest persons will not 
 be of opinion that I ought to be put out of church 
 I for any appearance of levity, which this work may 
 I seem to carry with it. 
 
 I know there have been instances amongst the 
 Puritans, of clergymen, degraded for singing a 
 Scotch pastoral. But music is a carnal thing com- 
 pared with putting thoughts upon paper. It re- 
 quires an opening of the mouth, and a rolling of 
 the tongue, whereas thought is wholly spiritual, and 
 depends not on any modification of the corporeal 
 organs: Music, however, even by the strictest sects, 
 is admissible in sacred harmony, whi h is an ac- 
 knowledgment, that even sound has its uses to soothe 
 the mind or to fit it for contemplation. 
 
 I would ask, which is the most entertaining work, 
 Smollet's History of England: or his Humphrey 
 Clinker '( For, as to the utility, so far as that de- 
 pends upon truth, they are both alike. History has 
 been well said to be the Romance of the human 
 mind ; and Romance the history of the heart. "When 
 the son of Robert Walpole asked his father, whether 
 he should read to him out of a book of history; 
 he said, "he was not fond of Romance." This minis- 
 ter had been long engaged in affairs; and from what 
 lie had seen of accounts of things within his own 
 knowledge he had little confidence in the relation 
 of things which he had not seen. Except memoirs 
 of persons' own times ; biographical sketches by 
 cotemporary writers; Voyages, and Travels, that 
 have geographical exactness, there is little of the 
 historical kind, in point of truth, before Roderick 
 Random, or Gil Bias. 
 
 The Eastern nations in their tales pretend to 
 nothing but fiction. Nor is the story with them the 
 less amusing because it is not true. Nor is the moral 
 of it less impressive, because the actors never had 
 existence. 
 
 In the second volume of the work the style is 
 
HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE. 
 
 293 
 
 more didactic but not less genial. It contains the 
 material of a rare volume of Essays, fresh, inde- 
 pendent in thought, quaint in humor and expres- 
 sion. 
 
 When Governor McKean secured the demo- 
 i cratic ascendency by his election in 1799, Brack- 
 enridge \Vas one of his appointments as Judge in 
 the Supreme Court of the State, where he pre- 
 sided with ability till his death in 1816. Brack; 
 enridge deserves to be better known through his 
 writing?. His numeri ius miscellanies, scattered in 
 old pamphlets, periodicals, and newspapers, if 
 collected would form a pleasing and instructive 
 commentary .on his times, lie had wit, humor, 
 and a sound judgment. His judicial decisions 
 were celebrated for their integrity and indepen- 
 dence. 
 
 Hildreth, no friend to his party, admits — "Even 
 Brackenridge, whatever his eccentricities and 
 faults as a man or a politician, proved, in his ju- 
 dicial character, no disgrace to the bench." * 
 
 His social talents must have been of a rare 
 order. There is a capital anecdote narrated by 
 Paulding, of his efforts to overcome the gravity 
 of Washington. The judge, as he relates it, "on 
 a particular occasion, fell in with Washington at 
 a public-house, where a large company had 
 gathered together for the purpose of discussing 
 the subject of improving the navigation of the 
 Potomac. They supped at the same table, and 
 Mr. Brackenridge essayed all his powers of 
 humor to divert the General; but in vain. He 
 seemed aware. of his purpose, and listened with- 
 out a smile. However, it so happened that the 
 chambers of Washington and Brackenridge ad- 
 joined, and were only separated from each other 
 by a thin partition of pine boards. The General 
 had retired first, and when the judge entered his 
 own room, he was delighted to hear Washington, 
 who was already in bed, laughing to himself with 
 infinite glee, no doubt at the recollection of his 
 stories." t 
 
 AN ELECTION SCENE — FROM MODERN CHIVALRY. 
 
 The Captain rising early uext morning, and setting 
 out on his way, had now arrived at a place where a 
 number of people were convened, for the purpose 
 of electing persons (o represent them in the legisla- 
 ture of the state. There was a weaver who was a 
 candidate for this appointment, and seemed to have 
 a good deal of interest among the people. But 
 another, who was a man of education, was his com- 
 petitor. Relying on some talent of speaking which 
 he thought he possessed, he addressed the multitude. 
 
 Fellow citizens, said he, I pretend not to any great 
 abilities ; but am conscious to myself that I have 
 the best good will to serve you. But it is very 
 astonishing to me, that this weaver should conceive 
 himself qualified for the trust. For though my 
 acquirements are not great, yet his are still less. 
 The mechanical business which he pursues, must 
 necessarily take up so much of his time, that he 
 cannot apply himself to political studies. I should 
 therefore thiuk it would be more answerable to 
 
 * TTistory of the United States. 
 
 t Paulding's Life of Washington, ii. l!l4 There is a story- 
 still circulated in Philadelphia, which he used to tell at the 
 expense of the Philosophical Society, of a member having 
 picked up one of the small fashionable lady's fans of those 
 days, in the gutter, and the society having reported on it as the 
 wing of a newly discovered bat. 
 
 your dignity, and conducive to your interest, to be 
 represented by a man at least of some letters, than 
 by an illiterate handicraftsman like this. It will be 
 more honorable for himself, to remain at his loom 
 and knot threads than to come forward in a legisla- 
 tive capacity : because in the one case, he is in the 
 sphere suited to his education ; iu the other, he is 
 like a fish out of water, and must struggle for breath 
 in a new element. 
 
 Is it possible he can understand the affairs of 
 government, whose mind has been concentred to the 
 small object of weaving webs, to the price by the 
 yard, the grist of the thread, and such like matters 
 as concern the manufacturer of cloths ? The feet 
 of him who weaves, are more occupied than the 
 head, or at least as much ; and therefore he must be, 
 at least but in half, accustomed to exercise his men- 
 tal powers. F 7 or these reasons, all other things set 
 aside, the chance is in my favour, with respect to 
 information. However, you will decide, and give 
 your suffrages to him or to me, as you shall j udge 
 expedient. 
 
 The Captain hearing these observations, and look- 
 ing at the weaver, could not help advancing, and 
 undertaking to subjoin something in support of what 
 had been just said. Said he, I have no prejudice 
 against a weaver more than another man. JS'or do 
 1 know any harm in the trade ; save that from the 
 sedentary life in a damp place, there is usually a 
 paleness of the countenance ; but this is a physical, 
 not a moral evil. Such usually occupy subterranean 
 apartments ; not for the purpose, like Demosthenes, 
 of shaving their heads and writing over eight times 
 the history of Thucydides, and perfecting a style of 
 oratory; but rather to keep the thread moist; or 
 because tins is considered but as an inglorious sort 
 of trade, and is frequently thrust away into cellars, 
 and damp out-houses, which are not occupied for a 
 better use. 
 
 But to rise from the. cellar to the senate house, 
 would be an unnatural hoist. To come from count- 
 ing threads, and adjusting them to the splits of a 
 reed, to regulate the finauces of a government, 
 would be preposterous; there being no congruity in 
 the case. There is no analogy between knotting 
 threads and framing laws. It would be a reversion 
 of the order of things. Not that a manufacturer of 
 linen or woolen, or other stuffs, is an inferior cha- 
 racter, but a different one, from that which ought to 
 be employed iu affairs of state. It is unnecessary 
 to enlarge on this subject; for you must all be con- 
 vinced of the truth and propriety of what I say. 
 But if you will gi ve me leave to take the manufacturer 
 aside a little, 1 think I can explain to hjin my ideas 
 on the subject; and very probably prevail with him 
 to withdraw his pretensions. The people seeming 
 to acquiesce, and beckoning to the weaver, they 
 withdrew aside, and the Captain addressed him in 
 the following words: 
 
 Mr. Traddle, said he, for that was the name of the 
 manufacturer, I have not the smallest idea of wound- 
 ing your sensibility ; but it would seem to me, it 
 would be more your interest to pursue your occupa- 
 tion, than to launch out into that of which you have 
 no knowledge. When you go to the senate house, 
 the application to you will not be to warp a web; 
 but to make laws for the commonwealth. Now, 
 suppose that the making these laws requires a know- 
 ledge of commerce, or of the interests of agriculture, 
 or those principles upon which the different manu- 
 factures depend, what service could you render ? It 
 is possible you might think justly enough ; but could 
 you speak? You are not in the habit of public 
 speaking. You are not furnished with those common- 
 place ideas, with which even very ignorant men can 
 
294 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 pass for knowing something. There is nothing 
 makes a man so ridiculous, as to attempt what is 
 above his sphere. You are no tumbler, for instance; 
 yet should you give out that you could vault upon a 
 man's back ; or turn heels over head like the wheels 
 of a cart; the stiffness of your joints would encum- 
 ber you ; and you would fall upon your posteriors 
 to the ground, touch a squash as that, would do you 
 damage. The getting up to ride on the state is an 
 unsafe thing to those who are not accustomed to 
 such horsemanship. It is a disagreeable thing for 
 a man to be laughed at, and there is no way of keep- 
 ing one's self from it but by avoiding all affectation. 
 While they were thus discoursing, a bustle had 
 taken place among the crowd. 'league hearing so 
 much about elections, and serving the government, 
 took it into his head that he could be a legislator 
 himself. The tiling was not displeasing to the peo- 
 ple, who seemed to favour his pretensions ; owing, 
 in some degree, to there being several of his coun- 
 trymen among the crowd ; but more especially to 
 the fluctuation of the popular mind, and a disposi- 
 tion to what is new and ignoble. For though the 
 weaver was not the most elevated object of choice, 
 yet he was still preferable to this tatter-demalion, 
 who was but a menial servant, and had so much of 
 what is called the brogue on his tongue, as to fall 
 far short of an elegant speaker. 
 
 The Captain coming up, and finding what was on 
 the carpet, was greatly chagrined at not having been 
 able to give the multitude a better idea of the im- 
 portance of a legislative trust ; alarmed also, from 
 an apprehension of the loss of his servant. Under 
 these impressions he resumed his address to the 
 multitude. Said he, this is making the matter still 
 worse, gentlemen : this servant of mine is but a 
 bog-trotter, who can scarcely speak the dialect in 
 which your laws ought to be written ; but certainly 
 has never read a single treatise on any political sub- 
 ject; for the truth is, he cannot read at all. The 
 young people of the lower class, in Ireland, have 
 seldom the advantage of a good education ; espe- 
 cially the descendants of the ancient Irish, who have 
 most of them a great assurance of countenance, but 
 little information or literature. This young man, 
 whose family name is O'Regan, has been my servant 
 for several years ; and, except a too great fondness 
 for women, which now and then brings him into 
 scrapes, he has demeaned himself in a manner tole- ! 
 rable enough. But he is totallj- ignorant of the ! 
 great principles of legislation ; and more especially 
 the particular interests of the government. A free ] 
 government is a noble acquisition to a people: and 
 this freedom consists in 'an equal right to make laws, 
 and to have the benefit of the laws when made. 
 Though doubtless, in such a government, the lowest 
 citizen may become chief magistrate ; yet it is suf- 
 ficient to possess the right, not absolutely necessary 
 to exercise it. Or even if you should think proper, I 
 now and then, to show your privilege, and exert, in | 
 a signal manner, the democratic prerogative, yet is 
 it not descending too low to filch away from me a 
 hireling, which I cannot well spare? You are surely 
 carrying the matter too far, in thinking to make a 
 senator of this ostler; to take him away from an 
 employment to which he has been bred, and put him 
 to another, to which he has served no apprentice- 
 ship : to set those hands which have been lately 
 employed in currying my horse, to the draughting 
 bills, and preparing business for the house. 
 
 The people were tenacious of their choice, and 
 insisted on giving Teague their suffrages ; and by 
 the frown upon their brows, seemed to indicate 
 resentment at what had been said ; as indirectly 
 charging them with want of judgment; or calling 
 
 in question their privilege to do what they thought 
 proper. It is a very strange thing, said one of them, 
 who was a speaker for the rest, that after having 
 conquered Burgoyne and Cornwallis, and got a 
 government of our own, we cannot put in it whom 
 we please. This young man may be your servant, 
 or another man's servant ; but if we choose to make 
 him a delegate, what is that to you ? He may not 
 be yet skilled in the matter, but there is a good day 
 coming. We will empower him ; and it is better to 
 trust a plain man like him than one of your high- 
 flyers, that will make laws to suit their own pur- 
 poses. 
 
 I had much rather, said the Captain, you would 
 send the weaver, though I thought that improper, 
 than to invade my household, and thus detract from 
 me the very person that 1 have about me to brush 
 my boots, and clean my spurs. 
 
 The prolocutor of the people gave him to under- 
 stand that his objections were useless, for the people 
 had determined on the choice, and Teague they 
 would have, for a representative. 
 
 Finding it answered no end to expostulate with 
 the multitude, 'he requested to speak a word with 
 Teague by himself. Stepping aside, he said to him, 
 composing his voice, and addressing him in a soft 
 manner : Teague, yon are quite wrong in this matter 
 the}' liuve put into your head. Do you know what 
 it is to be a member of a deliberative body? What 
 qualifications are necessary? Do you understand 
 anything of geography? If a question should be 
 put to make a law to dig a canal in some part of the 
 state, can you describe the bearing of the mountains, 
 and the course of the rivers ? Or if commerce is to 
 be pushed to some new quarter, by the force of 
 regulations, are you competent to decide in such a 
 case? There will be questions of law and astrono- 
 my on the carpet. How you must gape and stare 
 like a fool, when you come to be asked your opinion 
 on these subjects! Are you acquainted with the 
 abstract principles of finance ; with the funding 
 public securities; the ways and means of raising the 
 revenue; providing for the discharge of the public 
 debts, and all other things which respect the econo- 
 my of the government? Even if you had know- 
 ledge, have you a facility of speaking? I would 
 suppose you would have too much pride to go to 
 the house just to say, ay or no. This is not the fault 
 of your nature, but of your education; having been 
 accustomed to dig turf in your early years, rather 
 than instructing yourself in the classics, or common 
 school books. 
 
 When a man becomes a member of a public body, 
 he is like a racoon, or other beast that climbs up 
 the fork of a tree ; the boys pushing at him with 
 pitchforks, or throwing stones or shooting at him 
 with an arrow, the dogs barking in the mean time. 
 One will find fault with j-our not speaking; another 
 with your speaking, if you speak at all. They will 
 put you in the newspapers, and ridicule you as a 
 perfect beast. There is what they call the cariea- 
 tura ; that is, representing you with a dog's head, or 
 a cat's claw. As you have a red head, they will 
 very probably make a fox of you, or a sorrel horse, . 
 or a brindled cow. It is the devil in hell to be 
 exposed to the squibs and crackers of the gazette 
 wits and publications. You know no more about 
 these matters than a goose ; and yet you would 
 undertake rashly, without advice, to enter on the. 
 office ; nay, contrary to advice. For I would not 
 for a thousand guineas, though I hare not the half 
 to spare, that the breed of the O'Regans should come 
 to this; bringing on them a worse stain than steal- 
 ing sheep; to which they are addieted. You have 
 nothing but your character, Teague,- in a new couu- 
 
HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE. 
 
 295 
 
 try to depend upon. Let it never be said, that you 
 quitted an honest livelihood, the taking care of my 
 horse, to follow the new-fangled whims of the times, 
 and be a statesman. 
 
 'league was moved chiefly with the last part of 
 the address, and consented to relinquish his preten- 
 sions. 
 
 The Captain, glad of this, took him back to the 
 people, and announced his disposition to decline the 
 honor which they had intended him. 
 
 Teague acknowledged that he had changed his 
 mind, and was willing to remain in a private station. 
 
 The people did not seem well pleased with the 
 Captain; but as nothing more could be said about 
 the matter, they turned their attention to the weaver, 
 aud gave him their suffrages. 
 
 TEAGUE A MEMBER OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL 60CIETY. 
 
 There was, in a certain great city, a society who 
 called themselves Philosophers. They had published 
 books, under the title of Transactions. These con- 
 tained' dissertations on the nature and causes of 
 things, from the stars of heaven to the fireflies of 
 the earth; and from the sea-crab to the woodland 
 buffaloe. Such disquisitions are doubtless useful 
 and entertaining to an inquisitive mind. 
 
 There is no question but there were in this body 
 some very great men ; wdiose investigations of the 
 arcana of nature deserve attention. But so it was, 
 there had been introduced, by some means, many 
 individuals, who were no philosophers at all. This 
 is no unusual thing with institutions of this nature; 
 though, by the bye, it is a very great fault. For it 
 lessens the incentives of honor, to have the access 
 made so easy that every one may obtain admission. 
 It has been a reproach to some colleges, that a 
 diploma could be purchased for half a crown. This 
 society were still more moderate ; for the bare 
 scratching the posteriors of a member has been 
 known to procure a membership, At least, there 
 have been those admitted, who appeared capable 
 of nothing else. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was necessary, even in these cases, 
 for tlie candidates to procure some token of a philo- 
 sophic turn of mind , such as the skin of a dead 
 cat, or some odd kind of a mouse-trap ; or have 
 phrases in their mouths, about minerals and petri- 
 factions; so as just to support some idea of natural 
 knowledge, and pass muster. There was one who 
 got in, by finding, accidentally, the tail of a rabbit, 
 which had been taken off in a boy's trap. Another 
 by means of a squirrel's scalp, which he had taken 
 care to stretch and dry on a bit of osier, bended in 
 the form of a hoop. The beard of an old fox, taken 
 off and dried in the sun, was the means of intro- 
 ducing one whom I knew very well : or rather, as I 
 have already hinted, it was beforehand intended he 
 should be introduced ; and these exuviae, or spoils 
 of the animal kingdom] were but the tokens and 
 apologies for admission. 
 
 It happened as the Captain was riding this day, 
 and Teague trotting after him, he saw a large owl, 
 that had been shot by somebody, and was placed in 
 the crotch of a tree, about the height of a man's 
 head from the ground, for those that passed by to 
 look at. The Captain being struck with it, as some- 
 what larger than such birds usually are, desired 
 Teague to reach it to him ; and tying it to the hinder 
 part of his saddle, rode along. 
 
 Passing by the house of one who belonged to the 
 society, the bird was noticed at the saddle-skirts, and 
 the philosopher coming out, made enquiry with 
 regard to the genus and nature of the fowl. Said 
 the Captain, I know nothing more about it than that 
 it is nearly as large as a turkey buzzard. It is 
 
 doubtless, said the other, the great Canada owl, that 
 comes from the Lakes ; and if your honor, will give 
 me leave, I will take it and submit it to the society, 
 and have yourself made a member. As to the first, 
 the Captain consented; but as to the last, the being 
 a member, he chose rather to decline it ; conceiving 
 himself unqualified for a place in such a body. The 
 other assured him that he was under a very great 
 mistake ; for there were persons there who scarcely 
 knew a B from a bull's foot. That may be, said the 
 Captain: but if others choose to degrade themselves, 
 by suffering their names to be used in so preposte- 
 rous a way as that, it was no reason he should. 
 
 The other gave him to understand, that the society 
 would certainly wish to express their sense of his 
 merit, aud show themselves not inattentive to a vir- 
 tuoso ; that as he declined the honor himself, he 
 probably might not be averse to let his servant take 
 a seat among them. 
 
 He is but a simple Irishman, said the Captain, and 
 of a low education : his language being that spoken 
 by the aborigines of his country. And if he speaks 
 a little English, it is with the brogue on his tongue, 
 which would be unbecoming in a member of your 
 body. It would seem to me that a philosopher 
 ought to know how to write, or at least to read ; but 
 Teague can neither write nor read. He can sing a 
 song or whistle an Irish tune ; but is totally illite- 
 rate in all things else. I question much if he could 
 tell you how many new moons there are in the year; 
 or any the most common thing you could ask him. 
 He is a long-legged fellow, it is true ; and might be 
 of service in clambering over rocks, or going to the 
 shores of rivers to gather curiosities. But could 
 you not get persons to do this, without making them 
 members? I have more respect for science, than to 
 suffer this bog-trotter to be so advanced at its 
 expense. 
 
 In these American states, there is a wide field for 
 philosophic research ; and these researches may be 
 of great use in agriculture, mechanics, aud astrono- 
 my There is but little immediate profit attending 
 these pursuits; but if .there can be inducements of 
 honor, these may supply the place. What more 
 alluring to a young man, than the prospect of being 
 one day received into the society of men truly 
 learned ; the admission being a test and a proof of 
 distinguished knowledge. But the fountain of 
 honor, thus contaminated by a sediment foreign 
 from its nature, who would wish to drink of it ? 
 
 Said the philosopher, at the first institution of the 
 society by Dr. Franklin and others, it was put. upon 
 a narrow basis, and only men of seience were con- 
 sidered proper to compose it ; and this might be a 
 necessary policy at that time, when the institution 
 was in its infancy, and could not bear much draw- 
 back of ignorance. But it has not been judged so 
 necessary of late years. The matter stands now on 
 a broad and catholic bottom ; and like the gospel 
 itself, it is our orders, " to go out into the highways 
 and hedges, and compel them to come in." There 
 are hundreds, whose names you may see on our list, 
 who are not more instructed than this lad of yours. 
 
 They must be a sad set indeed then, said the 
 Captain. 
 
 Sad or no sad, said the other, it is the case; and 
 if you will let Teague go, I will engage him a mem- 
 bership. 
 
 I take it very ill of you, Mr. Philosopher, said the 
 Captain, to put this nonsense in his head. If you 
 knew what trouble I have lately had with a parcel 
 of people that were for sending him to Congress, 
 you would be unwilling to draw him from me for 
 the purpose of making him a philosopher. It is not 
 an easy mitter to get hirelings now-a-days; aud 
 
296 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 when you do get one, it is a mere chance, whether 
 he is faithful, and will suit your purpose. It would 
 be a very great loss to me, to have him taken off at 
 this time, when I have equipped myself for a 
 journey. 
 
 Teague was a good deal incensed at this refusal 
 of Iris master, and insisted that he would be a phi- 
 losopher. You are an ignoramus, said the Captain. 
 It is not the being among philosophers, will make 
 you one. 
 
 Teague insisted that he had a right to make the 
 best of his fortune : and as there was ,a door open 
 to his advancement he did not see why he might not 
 make use of it. 
 
 The Captain finding that it answered no end to 
 dispute the matter with him by Words of sense and 
 reason, took a contrary way to manage him. 
 
 Teague, said he, I have a regard for you, and 
 would wish to see you do well. But before you 
 take this step, I would wish to speak a word or two 
 in private. If you will go, I may perhaps suggest 
 some things that may be of service to you, for your 
 future conduct in that body. 
 
 Teague consenting, they stepped aside; and the 
 Captain addressed him in the following manner: 
 
 Teague, said he, do you know what you are about? 
 It is a fine thing at first sight to be a philosopher, 
 and get into this body. And indeed, if you were a 
 real philosopher, it might be some honor, and also 
 safe, to take that leap. But do you think it is to 
 make a philosopher of you that they want you ? 
 Far from it. It is their great study to find curiosi- 
 ties ; and because this man saw you coming after 
 me, with a red head, trotting like an Esquimaux 
 Indian, it has struck his mind to pick you up, and 
 pass you for one. Nay, it is possible they may 
 intend worse ; aDd when they have examined you 
 awhile, take the skin off you, and pass you for an 
 overgrown otter, or a musk-rat, or some outlandish 
 animal, for which they will themselves invent a 
 name. If you were at the museum of one of these 
 societies, to observe the quantity of skins and skele- 
 tons thej' have, you might be well assured they did 
 not come by them honestly. I know so much of 
 these people, that I am well persuaded they would 
 think no more of throwing you into a kettle of boil- 
 ing water, than they would a terrapin ; and having 
 scraped you out to a shell, present you as the relics 
 of an animal they had procured at an immense price, 
 from some Guinea merchant. Or if they should not 
 at once turn you to this use, how, in the mean time, 
 will they dispose of you ? They will have you away 
 through the bogs and marshes, catching flies and 
 mire-snipes ; or send you to the woods to bring a 
 polecat ; or oblige you to descend into draw-wells, 
 for fog, and phlogistic air, and the Lord knows what. 
 You must go into wolves' dens, and catch bears by 
 the tail: run over mountains like an opossum, and 
 dig the earth like a ground-hog. You will have to 
 climb over trees, and be bit by flying-squirrels. 
 There will be no end to the musquetoes you will 
 have to dissect. What is all this, to diving into 
 milldams and rivers, to catch craw-fish ? Or if you 
 go to the ocean, there are alligators to devour you 
 like a cat-fish. Who knows but it may come your 
 turn, in a windy night, to go aloft to the heavens, to 
 rub down the stars, and give the goats and rams 
 that are there, fodder? The keeping the stars clean 
 is a laborious work ; a great deal worse than scour- 
 ing andirons or brass kettles. There is a bull there, 
 would think no more of tossing you on his horns 
 than he would a puppy dog. If the crab should 
 get you into his claws, he woidd squeeze you like a 
 lobster. But what is all that to 30111' having no 
 place to stand on ? How would you bike to be up 
 
 at the moon, and to fall down when you had missed 
 your hold, like a boy from the topmast of a ship, 
 and have your brains beat out upon the top of some 
 great mountain ; where the devil might take your 
 skeleton and give it to the turkey-buzzards ? 
 
 Or if they should, in the mean time, excuse you 
 from such out-of-door services, they will rack and 
 torture you with hard questions. You must tell 
 them how long the rays of light are coming from 
 the sun ; how many drops of rain fall in a thunder- 
 gust; what makes the grasshopper chirp when the 
 sun is hot ; how muscle-shells get up to the top of 
 the mountains; how the Indians got over to Ameri- 
 ca. You will have to prove that the negroes were 
 once white ; and that their flat noses came by some 
 cause in the compass of human means to produce. 
 These are puzzling questions: and yet you must 
 solve them all. Take my advice, and stay where 
 you are. Many men have ruined themselves by 
 their ambition, and made bad' worse. There is 
 another kind of philosophy, which lies more within 
 your sphere ; that is moral philosophy. ' Every 
 hostler or hireling can study this, and you have the 
 most excellent opportunity of acquiring this know- 
 ledge in our traverses through the country, or com- 
 munications at the different taverns or villages, 
 where we ma}' happen to sojourn. 
 
 Teague had long ago, in his own mind, given up 
 all thoughts of the society, and would not for the 
 world have any more to do with it; therefore, with- 
 out bidding the philosopher adieu they pursued 
 their route as usual. 
 
 CAPTAIN FAEEAGO'S INSTRUCTIONS TO TEAGUE ON THE DUELLO. 
 
 Having thus dismissed the secondary man, he call- 
 ed in his servant Teague, and accosted him as fol- 
 lows : Teague, said he, you have heretofore discover- 
 ed an ambition to be employed in some way that 
 would advance your reputation. There is now a 
 case fallen out, to which you are fully competent. 
 It is not a matter that requires the head to contrive, 
 but the hand to execute. The greatest fool is as fit 
 for it as a wise man. It is indeed your greatest 
 blockheads that chiefly undertake it. The know- 
 ledge of law, physick, or divinity, is out of the ques- 
 tion. Literature and political understanding is 
 useless. Nothing more is necessary than a little 
 resolution of the heart. Yet it is an undertaking 
 which is of much estimation with the rabble, and has 
 a great many on its side to approve' and praise it. 
 The females of the world, especially, admire the act, 
 and call it valour. I know you wish to stand well 
 with the ladies. Here is an opportunity of advanc- 
 ing your credit. I have had what is called a chal- 
 lenge sent me this morning. It is from a certain 
 Jacko, who is a suitor to a Miss Vapour, and has 
 taken offence at an expression of mine, respecting 
 him, to this female. I wish you to accept the chal- 
 lenge, and fight him for me. 
 
 At this proposition, Teague looked wild, and made 
 apology that he was not much used to boxing. Box- 
 ing, said the Captain, you are to fight what is called 
 a dud. — You are to encounter him with pistols, and 
 put a bullet through him if you can. It is true, he 
 will have a chance of putting one through you; but 
 in that consists the honour; for where there is no 
 danger, there is no glory. You will provide your- 
 self a second. There is an hostler here at the public 
 house, that is a brave fellow, and will answer the 
 purpose. Being furnished with a second, you will 
 provide yourself with a pair of pistols, powder and 
 ball of course. In the mean time your adversary, 
 notified of your intentions, will do the like. — Thus 
 equipped, you will advance to the place agreed upon. 
 The ground will be measured out ; ten, seven, or 
 
HUGH HENRY BRACKEXRIDGE. 
 
 297 
 
 five steps ; back to back, and coming round to your 
 place, fire. Or taking your ground, stand still and 
 fire; or it may be, advance and fire as you meet, at 
 what distance you think proper. The rules in this 
 respect are not fixed, but as the parties can agree, or 
 the seconds point out. When you come to fire, be 
 sure you keep a steady hand, and take good aim. 
 Remember that the pistol barrel being short, 
 the powder is apt to throw the bullet up. Your 
 sight, therefore, ought to be about the waist- 
 band of his breeches, so that you have the whole 
 length of his body, and his head in the bargain, 
 to come and go upon. It is true, he in the mean 
 time will take the same advantage of you. lie 
 may hit you about the groin, or tlie bell} 7 . I have 
 known some shot in the thigh, or the leg. The 
 throat also, anil the head, are in themselves vulnera- 
 ble. It is no uncommon thing to have an arm broke, 
 or a splinter struck ott" the nose, or an eye shot out : 
 but as in that ease the ball mostly passes through 
 the brain, and the man being dead at any rate, the 
 loss of sight is not greatly felt- 
 As the Captain spoke, Teague seemed to feel in 
 himself every wound which was described, the ball 
 hitting him, now in one part, and now in another. 
 At the last words, it seemed to pass through his 
 head, and he was half dead, in imagination. Making 
 a shift to express himself, he gave the Captain to un- 
 derstand, that he could by no means undertake the 
 office. What ! said the Captain ; you whom nothing 
 would serve some time ago but to be a legislator, 
 or a philosopher, or preacher, in order to gain fame, 
 will now decline a business for which you are quali- 
 fied ! This requires no knowledge of finances, no 
 reading of natural history, or any study of the fa- 
 thers. You have nothing more to do than keep a 
 steady hand and a good eye. 
 
 Ih the early practice of this exercise, I mean the 
 combat of the duel, it was customary to exact an 
 oatli of the combatants, before they entered the lists, 
 that they had no enchantments, or power of witch- 
 craft, about them. — Whether you should think it 
 necessary to put him to his voir dire, on this point, I 
 shall not say ; but I am persuaded, that on your part 
 you have too much honour, to make use of spells, or 
 undue means, to take away his life or save your own. 
 You will leave all to the chance of fair shooting. 
 One thing you will observe and which is allowable 
 in this battle ; you will take care not to present 
 yourself to him with a full breast, but angulaHy, and 
 your head turned round over the left shoulder, like 
 a weather-cock. For thus a smaller surface being 
 presented to an adversary, he will be less likely to 
 hit you. You must throw your legs into lines paral- 
 lel, and keep them one directly behind the other. 
 Thus you will stand like a sail hauled close to the 
 wind. Keep a good countenance, a sharp eye, and 
 a sour look ; and if you feel any thing like acholic, 
 or a palpitation of the heart, make no noise about it. 
 If the ball should take you in the gills, or the gizzard, 
 fall down as decently as you can, and die like a man 
 of honour. 
 
 It was of no use to urge the matter ; the Irishman 
 was but the more opposed to the proposition, and 
 utterly refused to be after fighting in any such man- 
 ner. The Captain, finding this to be the case, dis- 
 missed him to clean his boots and spurs, and rub 
 duwn his horse in the stable. 
 
 On reflection, it seemed advisable to the Captain 
 to write an answer to the card which Colonel or 
 Major Jacko, or whatever his title may have been, 
 had sent him this morning. It was as follows : — 
 Sm, 
 
 I have two objections to this duel matter. The 
 one is, lest I should hurt you; and.the other is, lest 
 
 you should hurt me. I do not see any good it would 
 do me to put a bullet thro' any part of your body. 
 I could make no use of you when dead for any culi- 
 nary purpose, as I would a rabbit or turkey. I am 
 no cannibal to feed on the flesh of men. Why then 
 shoot down a human creature, of which I could make 
 no use? A buffaloe would be better meat. For 
 though your flesh may be delicate and tender ; yet 
 it wants that firmness and consistency which takes 
 and retains salt, xlt any rate, it would not be fit for 
 long sea voyages. You might make a good barbacue, 
 it is true, being of the nature of a racoon or an opos- 
 sum ; but people are not in the habit of barbacuing 
 any thing human now. As to your hide, it is not 
 worth talcing off, being little better than that of a 
 year old colt. 
 
 It would seem to me a strange thing to shoot at a 
 man that would stand still to be shot at; inasmuch 
 as I have been heretofore used to shoot at things 
 flying, or running, or jumping. — Were you on a tree 
 now, like a squirrel, endeavouring to hide yourself 
 in the branches, or like a racoon, that after much 
 eyeing and spying, I observe at length in the crutch 
 of a tall oak, with boughs and leaves intervening, so 
 that I could just get a sight of his hinder parts, I 
 should think it pleasurable enough to take a shot at 
 you. But as it is, there is no skill or judgment re- 
 quisite either to discover or take you down. 
 
 As to myself, I do not much like to stand in the 
 way of any thing harmful I am under apprehen- 
 sions you might hit me. That being the case, I 
 think it most advisable to stay at a distance. If you 
 want to try your pistols, take some object, a tree or 
 a barn door, about my dimensions. If you hit that, 
 send me word, and I shall acknowledge that if I had 
 been in the same place you might also have hit me. 
 
 J. F. 
 
 AN ESSAY ON COMMON SENSE. 
 
 After thinking a good deal upon what might be 
 given as a definition of common sense ; in other 
 words, what phrase might be substituted in lieu of 
 it ; for that is what is meant by a definition ; I would 
 try whether the phrase, natural judgment, would not 
 do. Getting up a little in the world, and examining 
 mankind, there was nothing that struck me so much 
 as to find men, thought eminent in a profession, seem- 
 ing to want judgment in matters of. knowledge, 
 which was common to me with them. I took it for 
 granted, that it was owing to the mind being so 
 much employed in a particular way, that it had no 
 habit of thinking in any other; and doubtless there 
 is a good deal in this. For a mathematician, capa- 
 ble . of demonstrating all the problems of Euclid ; 
 and even of inventing shorter and clearer me- 
 thods of demonstration, may be incapable of compar- 
 ing ideas, and drawing conclusions on a matter 
 of domestic economy or national concern. For 
 though a great deal may be owing to a know- 
 ledge of the particular subject, and a habit of think- 
 ing upon it; yet as much or moie depends upon the 
 natural judgment. I will select the instance of a 
 lawyer, because it is in that profession that I have 
 had an opportunity, the most, of examining the ori- 
 ginal [lowers of the mind. In this profession 1 have 
 found those of the highest reputation of legal know- 
 ledge, and who were so, and yet were not the most 
 successful in particular causes. The reason was, that 
 though they had a knowledge of rules, they failed in 
 the application of them and had not given good ad- 
 vice, in bringing or defending the action in which 
 they had been .consulted. Or whether the causo 
 were good or bad, they had wanted judgment in 
 conducting it. The attempting to maintain untena- 
 ble ground ; or the points upon which they put the 
 
298 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 cause, showed a want of judgment. It is the same 
 thing in the case of a judge. The knowledge of all 
 law goes but a little way to the discerning the jus- 
 tice of the cause. Because the application of the 
 rule to the case, is the province of judgment. Hence 
 it is that if my cause is good, and I am to have my 
 choice of two judges, the one of great legal science, 
 . but deficient in natural judgment ; the other of good 
 natural judgment, but of no legal knowledge, I would 
 take the one that had what we call common sense. 
 For though I could not have a perfect confidence in 
 the decision of one or the other, 3'et I would think 
 my chance best with the one that had common sense. 
 If my cause was bad, I might think I stood some 
 chance with the learned judge, deficient in natural 
 judgment. An ingenious advocate would lead off 
 his mind, upon some quibble, and calling that law, 
 flatter him upon his knowing the law, and least his 
 knowledge of it should be called in question, the 
 learned judge might determine for him. For there 
 is nothing that alarms a dunce so much as the idea 
 of reason. It is a prostrating principle that puts him 
 upon a level with the bulk of mankind. The know- 
 ledge of an artificial rule sets him above these, and 
 is, therefore, maintained by him with all the tenacity 
 of distinguishing prerogative. To a weak judge, de- 
 ficient in natural reason, a knowledge of precedents 
 is indispensable. In the language of Scotch presby- 
 terian eloquence, there is such a thing as liukes and 
 e'en to hand up a crippled Christian's bre'eks ; or, in 
 English, hooks and ej'es, which wore before buttons 
 and button-holes, to answer the same purpose with 
 pantaloons or sherryvallies. Such are cases to a 
 judge, weak in understanding ; because these give 
 him the appearance of learning, and having made 
 research. 
 
 But it does not follow, that I undervalue legal 
 knowledge in a lawyer, or judge, or resolve all into 
 common sense in that or any other profession or oc- 
 cupation. 
 
 I select, in the next instance, that of a physician. 
 What can one do in this profession, without medical 
 knowledge ? And yet without good sense, the phy- 
 sician is as likely to kill as to cure. It is the only 
 means that one who is not a physician himself has 
 to judge of the skill of one who calls himself such, 
 what appears to be the grade of his mind, and his 
 understanding upon common subjects. We say, he 
 does not appear to have common sense ; how can he 
 be trusted in his profession ? Common sense, I take 
 to be, therefore, judgment upon common subjects: 
 and that degree of it which falls to the share of the 
 bulk of mankind. For even amongst the common 
 people, we speak of mother wit, which is but another 
 name for common sense. Clergy wit, is that of 
 school learning ; or the lessons of science, in which 
 a dunee may be eminent. For it requires but me- 
 mory and application. But the adage is the dictate 
 of experience, and the truth of it is eternal, " An 
 ounce of mother wit is worth a pound of clergy." 
 
 We speak of an egregious blockhead, and say, he 
 has not even common sense : that is, he has not the 
 very thing that is necessary to begin with ; and 
 which every person is usually endowed with, that 
 has the proportions of the human form. It seems to 
 be something bordering on instinct, and resembles it 
 in the uniformity and certainty of its operations. It 
 is that without which it is not worth while attempt- 
 ing to make a great man. What is a general with- 
 out common sense — that is, natural judgment? But 
 ■why talk of generals, or lawyers, or judges, or go so 
 far from home ? Where we see, as we sometimes 
 do, the want of natural judgment, in the manage- 
 ment of a man's own affairs, on a small scale ; whe- 
 ther of merchandise, or of manufactures, or farming, 
 
 we say that he cannot succeed ; and in general, 
 though not always, the want of success in common 
 pursuits, is owing to inexperience, or a want of natu- 
 ral judgment. The quibbling in a matter of con- 
 tract ; the evasion of fulfilment, is a want of natural 
 judgment. I think the poet says, 
 
 The want of honesty is want of sense. 
 There can be nothing more true. And 1 think it is 
 remarkable, that in those divine writings, which we 
 call, by way of eminence, the scriptures, dishonesty 
 is called folly ; and honesty wisdom. Common sense 
 is that degree of understanding which is given to 
 men in general, though some are peculiarly favour- 
 ed with uncommon powers. But no man can be 
 said to have common sense who is a knave. For, 
 of all things, it is the strongest proof of a want of 
 judgment upon an extensive scale. Had I the world 
 to begin again, with all the experience that years 
 have given me. and were to think myself at liberty, 
 from all considerations of duty or obligation ; yet, 
 on the principle of self-injtfrest, I would be honest, 
 and exceed, rather than come short, in giving to all 
 their due. For it is the adage, and as true as any 
 of the apothegms that we hear, that honesty is the 
 best policy. Indeed all the rules of morality are but 
 maxims of prudence. They all lead to self-preserva- 
 tion ; and had they no other foundation, they would 
 rest upon this, as sufficient to support them. The 
 discerning mind sees its interest as clear as a ray of 
 light, leading it to do justice. Let me see any man 
 quibble and evade, cheat or defraud, and I do not 
 say constructively, and with a reference to a future 
 state, but in relation to this life, and his temporal 
 affairs, that he is unwise ; that is, he wants the judg- 
 ment to perceive his true interest. This is the pre- 
 sumption ; and when knavery is found to consist with 
 strong powers, I resolve it into defect of fortitude, 
 or want of resolution, to be what the man must 
 know what he ought to be. The 
 
 -Video meliora proboqne, 
 
 Deteriora sequor- 
 
 is correct. Present gain is preferred to future good ; 
 like the child that wishes the tree cut down, that it 
 may have all the fruit at one season. The feelings 
 of resentment, or of love and strong passions, ambi- 
 tion or avarice, like tempests on the ocean, take away 
 the presence of mind, and baffle the skill of the navi- 
 gator. Therefore my reasoning docs not apply in 
 cases where the passions are concerned. But in a 
 case of dispassionate judging, as in a matter of mcum 
 and tuum, between indifferent persons ; or where 
 the question may be, by what means an object is 
 most directly attainable, the strength of natural 
 judgment, or common sense, shows itself. Where the 
 crooked path is chosen, or the false conception is en- 
 tertained, we say there is a want of common sense. 
 
 PROPHECY OF THE GBEATNE6S OF AMERICA — FEOM TUE KISI>~U 
 GLORY OF AMERICA. 
 
 Eugenia. 'Tis true no human eye can penetrate 
 The veil obscure, and in fair light diselos'd 
 Behold the scenes of dark futurity ; 
 Yet if we reason from the course of things, 
 And downward trace the vestiges of time, 
 The mind prophetic grows and pierces far 
 Thro' ages yet unborn. We saw the states 
 And mighty empires of the East arise 
 In swift succession from the Assyrian 
 To Macedon and Rome; to Britain thence 
 Dominion drove her ear, she streteh'd her reign 
 O'er many isles, wide seas and peopled lands. 
 IS'ow in the West a continent appears ; 
 A newer world now opens to her view; 
 She hastens onward to th' Americ shores 
 
WILLIAM WHITE. 
 
 299 
 
 And bids a scene of recent wonders rise. 
 
 New states, new empires, and a line of kings, 
 
 High raised in glory, cities, palaces, 
 
 Fair domes on each long bay, sea, shore, or stream, 
 
 Circling the hills, now rear their lofty heads. 
 
 Far in the Arctic skies a Petersburg!), 
 
 A Bergen or Archangel lifts its spires, 
 
 Glitt'ring with ice, far in the West appears 
 
 A new Palmyra or an Ecbatan, ■ 
 
 And sees the slow pac'd caravan return 
 
 O'er many a realm from the Pacific shore, 
 
 Where fleets shall then convey rich Persia's silks, 
 
 Arabia's perfumes, and spices rare 
 
 Of Philipine, Ceelebe, and Marian isles, 
 
 Or from the Acapuleo coast our India then, 
 
 Laden with pearl, and burning gems and gold. 
 
 Far in the South I see a Babylon, 
 
 As once by Tigris or Euphrates stream, 
 
 With blazing watch-tow'rs and observatories 
 
 Rising to heaven ; from thence astronomers 
 
 With optic glass take nobler views of God, 
 
 In golden suns and shining worlds display'd, 
 
 Thau the poor Chaldean with the naked eye. 
 
 A Nineveh where Oronoque descends 
 
 With waves discolor'd from the Andes high, 
 
 Winding himself around a hundred isles 
 
 Where golden buildings glitter o'er his tide. 
 
 Two mighty nations shall the people grow 
 
 Which cultivate the banks of many a flood, 
 
 In crystal currents poured from the hills, 
 
 Apalachia named, to lave the sands 
 
 Of Carolina, Georgia, and the plains 
 
 Stretch'd out from thence far to the burning line, 
 
 St. John's, or Clarendon, or Albemarle. 
 
 And thou Patowmnck, navigable stream, 
 
 Rolling thy waters through Virginia's groves, 
 
 Shall vie with Thames, the Tiber, or the Rhine, 
 
 For on thy banks I see an hundred towns. 
 
 And the tall vessels wafted down thy tide. 
 
 Hoarse Niagara's stream now roaring on 
 
 Thro' woods and rocks, and broken mountains torn, 
 
 In days remote, far from their ancient beds, 
 
 By some great monarch taught a better course, 
 
 Or cleared of cataracts shall flow beneath 
 
 Unnumbcr'd boats, and merchandize, and men; 
 
 And from the coasts of piny Lubradore, 
 
 A thousand navies crowd before the gale, 
 
 And spread their commerce to remotest lands, 
 
 Or bear their thunder round the conquer'd world. 
 
 Lcand'T. And here fair freedom shall for ever 
 reign. 
 I see a train, a glorious train appear, 
 Of patriots plac'd in equal fame with those 
 Who nobly fell for Athens or for Rome. 
 The sons of Boston resolute and brave, 
 The firm supporters of our injured rights, 
 Shall lose their splendors in the brighter beams 
 Of patriots famed and heroes yet unborn. 
 
 Acasto. 'Tis but the morning of the world with us, 
 And science yet but sheds her orient rays. 
 I see the age. the happy age roll on 
 Bright with the splendors of her mid-day beams. 
 1 see a Homer and a Milton rise 
 In all the pomp .and majesty of song, 
 Which gives immortal vigor to the deeds 
 Achiev'd by heroes in the fields of fame. 
 A second Pope, like that Arabian bird 
 Of which no age can boast but one, may yet 
 Awake the muse by Schuylkill's silent stream, 
 And bid new forests bloom along her tide. 
 And Susquehanna's rocky stream unsung, 
 In bright meanders winding round the hills, 
 Where first the mountain nymph sweet echo heard 
 The uncouth music of my rural lay. 
 Shall yet remurmur to the magic sound 
 
 Of song heroic, when in future days 
 Some noble Hampden rises into fame. 
 
 Leauder On Roanoke's and James's limpid waves 
 The sound of music murmurs in the gale ; 
 Another Denham celebrates their flow, 
 In gliding numbers and harmonious lays. 
 
 JEugenio. Now in the bowers of Tuscarora hills, 
 As once on Pindus all the muses stray, 
 New Theban bards high soaring reach the skies, 
 And swim along thro' azure deeps of air. 
 
 Leauder. From Alleghany in thick groves im- 
 brown'd, 
 Sweet music breathing thro' the shades of night 
 Steals on my ear, they sing the origin 
 Of those fair lights which gild the firmament ; 
 From whence the gale that murmurs in the pines ; 
 Why flows the stream down from the mountain's 
 
 brow, 
 And rolls the ocean lower than the land? 
 They sing the final destiny of things, 
 The great result of all our labors here, 
 The last day's glory and the world renew'd. 
 Such are their themes, for in these happier days 
 The bard enraptur'd scorns ignoble strains. 
 Fair science smiling and full truth revealed, 
 The world at peace, and all her tumults o'er, 
 The blissful prelude to Emanuel's reign. 
 
 Acasto. This is thy praise, America, thy pow'r, 
 Thou best of climes by science visited, 
 By freedom blest, and richly stor'd with all 
 The luxuries of life. Hail, happy land, 
 The seat of empire, the abode of kings, 
 The final stage where time shall introduce 
 Renowned characters, and glorious works 
 Of high invention and of wond'rous art, 
 Which not the ravages of time shall waste 
 Till he himself has run his long career; 
 Till all those glorious orbs of light on high, 
 The rolling wonders that surround the ball, 
 Drop from their spheres extinguished andconsum'd; 
 When final ruin with her fiery ear 
 Rides o'er creation, and all nature's works 
 Are lost in chaos and the womb of night. 
 
 WILLIAM WHITE. 
 
 William White was born in Philadelphia, April 
 4, 17 48 (March 24, 1747, Old Style). He was pre- 
 pared for college at the Latin school by the 
 celebrated teachers Paul Jackson and John Beve- 
 ridge, the Latin poet, whom lie calls "a thorough 
 grammarian, with little else to recommend him."* 
 An anecdote of his early days is related by one 
 of his playfellows. We give it in tluj words of 
 the narrator from the Rev. Dr. Wilson's Memoir: 
 "It has been thought that the bent of the genius, 
 and the probable future pursuits in life, are some- 
 times indicated by the amusements most attrac- 
 tive in early youth. A few circumstances of that 
 nature, occurring while he was very young, have 
 been communicated to me. They were repeatedly 
 related by a lady who was his intimate playmate 
 from a very early age, and about a year and a 
 half older than he was; a daughter of Mr. Ste- 
 phen Pascal,t a member of the society of Friends,! 
 
 * Letter to Bp. Ilobart. 
 
 t Afterwards married to Mr. Levi ITollingswnrtU, and the 
 mother of my brother-in-law. She died only a few years be- 
 fore the Bishop. The circumstances were communicated by 
 Mrs. Susan Eckard. 
 
 J Dr. White was much esteemed and beloved by the mem- 
 bers of that society. After he became a bishop, it was not 
 uncommon for some of them, even of the most plain and strict, 
 to speak of him as " our good bishop." 
 
300 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 residing in the house adjoining Colonel "White's. 
 That lady bore testimony to his early piety, and 
 was wont to say, when she was herself advanced 
 in life, 'Billy White (so she continued to call 
 him) was horn a bishop. I never could persuade 
 him to play any thing but church. He would tie 
 his own or my apron round his neck, for a gown, 
 and stand behind alow chair, which he called his 
 pulpit; I, seated before him on a little bench, was 
 the congregation ; and he always preached to me 
 about being good. One day,' she added, 'I 
 heard him crying, and saw him running into the 
 street, and the nuFse-inaid after him, calling to 
 him to come back and be dressed. He refused, 
 saying, I do not want to go to dancing-school, and 
 I won't be dressed, for I don't think it is good to 
 learn to dance. And that was the only time I 
 ever knew Billy White to be a naughty boy.' 
 The lady who gave me these anecdotes, and in 
 whose own language nearly they are related, 
 added that she had the pleasure of repeating these 
 reminiscences of his childhood to the Bishop : 
 they amused him; and he told her that his 
 mother, finding that he was so averse to learning 
 to dance, gave it up; 'though,' he said, 'lam 
 by no means opposed to others learning, if they 
 like to dance.' " 
 
 He completed his collegiate course in his seven- 
 teenth year, and soon entered upon a preparation 
 for the career of his choice. He was much im- 
 pressed at this period of his life by the preaching 
 of Whiteiield. 
 
 In 1770, White visited England to obtain ordi- 
 nation. He was a neighbor during a portion of 
 his residence in London of Goldsmith, and de- 
 scribes an interview with him : — 
 
 We lodged, for some time, near to one another, in 
 Brick Court, of the Temple. I bad it intimated to 
 him, by an acquaintance of both, that I wished for 
 the pleasure of making him a visit. It ensued ; and 
 in our conversation it took a turn which excited in 
 me a painful sensation, from the circumstance that a 
 man of such a genius should write for bread. His 
 "Deserted Village" came under notice; and some 
 remarks were made by us on the principle of it — 
 the decay of the peasantry. He said, that wei'e he 
 to write a pamphlet on the subject, he could prove 
 the' point incontrovertibly. On his being asked, why 
 he did not set his mind to this, his answer was: " It 
 is not worth my while. A good poem will bring me 
 one hundred guineas : but the pamphlet would bring 
 me nothing " This was a short time before my leav- 
 ing of England, and I saw the Doctor no more. 
 
 He also visited Johnson. 
 
 Having mentioned some literary characters, who 
 became personally known to me in the university, I 
 will not omit, although extraneous to it, that giant 
 of genius and literature, Dr. Samuel Johnson. My 
 introduction to him was a letter from the Rev. Jona- 
 than Odell, formerly missionary at Burlington. The 
 Doctor was very civil to me. I visited him occasion- 
 ally ; and I know some who would be tempted to 
 envy me the felicity of having found him, one morn- 
 ing, in the act of preparing his dictionary for a new 
 edition. His harshness of manners never displayed 
 itself to me, except in one instance ; when he told 
 me that had he been prime minister, during the then 
 recent controversy concerning the stamp act, lie 
 would have sent a ship of war, and levelled one of 
 our principal cities with the ground. On the other 
 
 hand,, I have heard from him sentiments expressive 
 of a feeling heart ; and convincing me, that he would 
 not have done as he said. Having dined in company 
 with him, in Kensington, at the hou.se of Mr. Elphin- 
 stone, well known to scholars of that day, and re- 
 turning in the stage-coach with the Doctor, I men- 
 tioned to him there being a Philadelphia edition of 
 his " Prince of Abyssinia." He expressed a wish to 
 see it. I promised to send him a copy on my return 
 to Philadelphia, and did so. He returned a polite 
 answer, which is printed in Mr. Boswell's second 
 edition of his Life of the Doctor. Mr. (since the 
 Rev. Dr.) Abercrombie's admiration of Dr. Johnson 
 had led to a correspondence with Mr. Boswell, to 
 whom, with my consent, the letter was sent.* 
 
 Having been ordained deacon and priest, he 
 returned to his native city, in September, 1772, 
 and was chosen an assistant minister of Christ 
 and St. ••Peter's churches. In 1773, he married 
 Miss Mary Harrison. 
 
 From the outset of the Revolution he sided with 
 his countrymen, but took no active part in the 
 struggle. In his own words, " I never beat the 
 ecclesiastic drum. * * Being invited to preach 
 before a battalion, I declined; and mentioned to 
 the colonel, who was fine of the warmest spirits 
 (jf the day.t my objections to the making of the 
 ministry instrumental to the war." He continued 
 to pray. for the king until the signing of the 
 declaration of independence, when he took the 
 oath of allegiance to the United States. During 
 its administration, an acquaintance made a sig- 
 nificant gesture of the neck. The clergyman re- 
 marked, "I perceived by your gesture that you 
 thought I was exposing my neck to great danger 
 by the step which I have taken. But I have not 
 taken it without full deliberation. I know my 
 danger, and that it is the greater on account of 
 my being a clergyman of the Church of England. 
 But I trust in Providence. The cause is a just 
 one, and I am persuaded will be protected." 
 
 In September, 1777, he was chosen one of the 
 chaplains of Congress. "The circumstances," 
 says his biographer, "attending his acceptance of 
 this appointment were sometimes detailed by him, 
 in conversation with bis friends, in a lively man- 
 ner. Bishop Kemper, of Missouri and Indiana, 
 who was present on some such occasions, men- 
 tions to me that he related them thus: 'Thar he 
 had removed with his family to Maryland; and 
 being on a journey, stopped at a small village be- 
 tween Harford county and Philadelphia, at which 
 he was met by a courier from Yorktown, inform- 
 ing him of his being appointed by Congress their 
 chaplain, and requesting his immediate attendance: 
 that he thought of it for a short time; it was in 
 one of the gloomiest periods of the American affairs, 
 when General Burgoyne was marching, without 
 having yet received a serious check, so far as was 
 then known, through the northern parts of New 
 
 * There was sent, not the letter, as I supposed, but a copy of 
 it. This fact was not known to me. until the following fnei 
 dent. Dining at the taWeof President Washington, and sitting 
 near to Mr. Swanwick. then a member of Congress, this related 
 anecdote having been given by me to a few gentlemen within 
 bearing. Mr. gwanwiek. bearing of the sending of the letter, 
 corrected the error: and declaiming on the subject, expected 
 to see the time when the letter would be worth two thousand 
 guineas. (Note bv the Bishop in 1880.) 
 
 t The colonel alluded to was Timothy Matlack. whose ar- 
 dor in the American cause cannot but be still remembered by 
 many. I^ote by the Bishop in 1630.) 
 
WILLIAM WHITE. 
 
 301 
 
 York : can:l after his short consideration, instead 
 of proceeding on his journey, he turned his 
 horses' heads, travelled immediately to Yorktown, 
 and entered on the duties of his appointment.' " 
 After the. evacuation of Philadelphia by the 
 British, White was the only clergyman - of his 
 communion who remained in the state. As soon 
 as peace was concluded he took an active part in 
 the re-organization of the Episcopal church, and 
 at the first regular convention of the state was 
 elected bishop. He soon after sailed to England, 
 in company with the Rev. Dr. Provoost, who 
 had been elected bishop in New York, to apply 
 for consecration. An act of parliament having 
 been passed to remove the obstacles which had 
 prevented action in the case of Bishop Seabury, 
 both were consecrated by the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, in the chapel of Lambeth palace, Feb. 4, 
 1787. They soon after returned, landing at New 
 York on Easter Sunday. Bishop White returned 
 to Philadelphia, where he resided when not absent 
 on his official duties daring the remainder of his 
 long lite. He published, in 1813, Lectures on the 
 Catechism of the Protestant Episcopal Church : 
 with supplementary lectures; one on the Ministry, 
 the other on the Public Service : ami Dissertations 
 on Select Subjects in the Lectures; in 1817, Com- 
 'paratUe Views of the Controversy betioeen the 
 CahinU's awl the Arminims, 2 vols. 8vo. ; in 
 1820, Memoirs of the Protestant Episcopal 
 Church iii the United States of America, re- 
 printed in 1835, with a continuation to that 
 period. A number of Sermons, Episcopal Charges, 
 and Pa;tn - al Letters, delivered in the course of 
 his ministry, were published separately. The 
 Memoirs consist of a brief narrative of the early 
 conventions and subsequent history of the Episco- 
 pal Church after the Revolution. The charac- 
 teristic modesty of their author led him to touch 
 very briefly upon his own services, and the his- 
 torical value of the work is consequently less than 
 it otherwise would have been. In 1817, at the 
 request of Bishop Ilnhart, he addressed to that 
 prelate a letter containing an account of his life 
 up to the period at which the Memoirs commence. 
 He commences as follows : — 
 
 A few years ago you requested of me to prepare 
 for you so.ne notice* of the most material circum- 
 stances of my early life. Compliance was intended, 
 but lias been delayed, in common with many things 
 which may be done at. any time. It is now under- 
 taken, with a protest against being understood to be- 
 lieve, that the '0 have been sueh events as can make 
 up a volume of biography ; otherwise than by the 
 hilp of tliat art ot book-making, which has been 
 much employed of late years on private history ; but 
 ■the exercise of which [ should be sorry to foresee 
 on a life of so little variety or celebrity as mine. 
 
 In consequence of this caveat, the Bishop's 
 biographer, the Rev. Dr. Bird Wilson, has not 
 printed this important letter. He, however, re- 
 fers to it, as furnishing the chief material of his 
 Memoir,* published in 1839. 
 
 We extract the chief portion of the Bishop's 
 " Additional Instructions for the Missionaries to 
 China," prepared and delivered in his eighty- 
 
 * Memoir of the Life of the El. Rev. William White, D.D., 
 Bishop oi the Protestant Kpiseopal Church in the State of 
 Pennsylvania. By Bird Wilson, D.D.. Professor of Systematic 
 Divinity in the General Theological Seminary. 
 
 ! eighth year, to Messrs. Hanson and Lockwood, the 
 first missionaries sent out by the Protestant Epis- 
 i copal Church to that country : — 
 
 In the tie which binds you to the Episcopal church, 
 there is nothing which places you in the attitude of 
 hostility to men of any other Christian denomination, 
 and much which should unite you in affection to those 
 occupied in the same cause with yourselves. You 
 should rejoice in their successes, and avoid as much 
 as possible all controversy, and all discussions which 
 may provoke it, on points on which they may differ 
 from our communion, without conforming in any 
 point to what we consider as erroneous. If contro- 
 versy should be unavoidable, let it be conducted 
 with entire freedom from that bitterness of spirit, and 
 that severity of language which cannot serve the 
 cause of God under any circumstances; while in the 
 sphere which you will occupy they will be repulsive 
 from a religion which produces no better fruits on 
 the tempers of its teachers. In the vicissitudes of 
 European commerce, and especially in that of Can- 
 
 ; ton, you will find many who speak your language, 
 and whose object is the pursuit of commerce. It is 
 
 1 to be lamented that no European government has 
 sustained even the appearance of divine worship 
 among these its distant subjects. Perhaps they may 
 show themselves indifferent or even hostile to your 
 design. In either case you wdll keep the even tenor 
 of your wa3 T ; not moved by the fear or expectation 
 of the favour of men. It may happen incidentally 
 to your ministry that some of these temporary resi- 
 dents shall he brought by it to a better mind in 
 regard "to the things which belong to their peace." 
 Especially they ought to be cautioned of the responsi- 
 bility which they would incur by discouragement of 
 the endeavours for the conversion of the heathen; 
 while, under notice of missionaries employed for that 
 purpose, there are so many professing the same faith, 
 " yet living without God in the world." You can- 
 not, be ignorant that in a former age the Christian 
 religion was extensively propagated in China ; being 
 countenanced by successive emperors, and by others 
 of high rank in the empire. K either can it be un- 
 known to you that this was succeeded by an exten- 
 sive persecution of all wdio owned the name of Christ, 
 It is certain that the change arose from the inter- 
 ference of the decrees of a foreign jurisdiction with 
 immemorial usages of the Chinese. It is an old sub- 
 
 i ject of debate whether those decrees were called for 
 by the integrity of Christian truth. Without dis- 
 cussing the question of them, the reason of noticing 
 them is to remark, that in reference to foreign juris- 
 diction there can he no room for any difficulty con- 
 cerning it within our communion ; which holds the 
 church in every country to be competent to self 
 government in all matters left to human discretion. 
 No faithful minister of our church will, in any in- 
 stance, relax a requisition of the Gospel, in accom- 
 modation to unscripturnl prejudices of his converts; 
 but he will not bind them in an)' chain not bound on 
 
 I them by his Master. It has even been said that the 
 court of Pekin found itself in danger of being 
 brought under subjection to a foreign prelate. In 
 proportion to the odium of sueh a charge, the con- 
 verted Chinese should be assured of safety in the 
 enjoyment of the liberty ." wherewith Christ hath 
 made them free." 
 
 In proposing the. evidences of the Christian reli- 
 gion to the Chinese, and indeed to heathens of any 
 description, there is to be avoided the alternate dan- 
 ger, on the one hand, of the measuring of success by 
 any excitement of sensibility, which may he short- 
 lived'; and on the other, the not exhibiting of the 
 subject i;i sueh a point of view as shall show it to be 
 
302 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS LITERATURE. 
 
 congenial with the best sensibilities of onr nature. 
 The ground taken by the apostles must certainly be 
 that which may most safely be taken bj' all the 
 ministers of the Gospel. When St. Peter addressed 
 a Jewish audience, as in the second chapter of Acts, 
 he laid the stress on ancient prophecy. And when 
 St. Paul addressed heathen audiences, as. in sundry 
 passages of the same book, the argument used by 
 him was the recent miracle of the resurrection. 
 These are points which associate themselves with the 
 liveliest of our hopes, and tend to the excitement of 
 our best affections ; yet it is through the door of the 
 understanding that truth enters in order to the taking 
 of possession of the heart, It is still the ground of 
 prophecy and of miracles on which the truth of 
 Christianity must be advocated ; although not with- 
 out their connection with that sinfulness of human 
 nature to which the contents of the Gospel are so 
 admirably adapted ; laying in it the only foundation 
 of trust in the pardon of sin, and of claim of 
 deliverance from its thraldom ; and in addition be- 
 ing fruitful of consolation, and a sure guide through 
 life, and a stay of dependence in the hour of death 
 and the day of judgment. Let but these interesting 
 subjects take possession of the mind,, and its na- 
 tural language will be, "What shall I do to be 
 saved ?" 
 
 When the Gospel is preached to a heathen at the 
 present day, we ought not to forget to extend to his 
 case that forbearance of divine mercy which St. Paul 
 disclosed when he said to the Athenians, " the times 
 of this ignorance God winked at." Even when we 
 have arrested his attention, but without reaching the 
 point of his conviction, we ought not to be hasty^ in 
 assuring ourselves that there may not be wanting 
 something conciliatory in manner; or, perhaps, .that 
 there may be something repulsive in it. We ought 
 therefore to wait in patience for more auspicious 
 moments, and not rashly conclude that there is a 
 " hating of the light, lest the deeds should be re- 
 proved." When there is contemplated the aggre- 
 gate of Christian evidence; when there is seen that 
 through the long tract of four thousand years there 
 was a chain of history, of prophecy, of miracle, and 
 of prefiguration, looking forward to a dispensation 
 to be disclosed at the end of that portion of time ; 
 when it is seen that there was then manifested the 
 great sacrifice which fulfilled all thathadgonebefore; 
 and when there is read the record of a sacrifice 
 commemorative of the same, to be perpetuated until 
 the second coming of the divine Ordainer, to sit in 
 judgment on the world : it is a mass of proof, which, 
 properly presented, will command the assent of un- 
 biassed men in all times and places ; progressing in 
 its influence to the promised issue, when " all the 
 kingdoms of the world shall have become the king- 
 doms of our Lord and of His Christ." 
 
 The portrait of White, painted by Inman, re- 
 presents a countenance of great purity and bene- 
 volence; one of the noblest types of personal 
 character of our forefathers, which we are accus- 
 tomed to associate with the friendships of Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 The modesty of Bishop White, with no lack of 
 patriotic or Christian firmness, for he maintained 
 on proper occasions the distinctive principles of 
 his communion, and he remained at his post as a 
 city clergyman during the terrible visitations of 
 the yellow fever, was as remarkable as his worth. 
 
 The memory of his virtues and the recollection 
 of his appearance are cherished by his friends, and 
 well deserve to be. 
 
 For the last forty years of his life, Dr. White 
 was Senior and consequently Presiding Bishop of 
 the United States. His course on theological 
 questions was regulated by the quiet and mode- 
 rate character of his mind. He died after a short 
 illness, during the time of morning service on 
 Sunday, July 17, 1836. 
 
 ISAIAH THOMAS, 
 
 The eminent printer, newspaper writer, and 
 founder of the American Antiquarian Society, 
 was born in Boston, January 19th, 1749. At six 
 years of age, he was apprenticed to Zacbariah. 
 Fowlc, a ballad printer, and his first essay waa 
 setting one of these ballads, " The Lawyer's Pedi- 
 gree," in double pica. After learning his profes- 
 sion, andpursuing some wandering adventures from 
 Nova Scotia to South Carolina, he returned to Bos- 
 ton in 1770, to engage with his old master in the 
 publication of the Massachusetts Spy. In 1774, 
 when his political Whig course, carried on with 
 spirit in his paper, became obnoxious to the 
 authorities, he conveyed his types to Worcester, 
 where he continued his paper.* In various ways 
 Thomas remained connected with the paper till 
 1801. In 1788, he carried on the publishing 
 ■business at Boston, in the firm of Thomas and 
 Andrews. The Massachusetts Magazine was 
 issued by them in eight volumes, from 1789 to 
 1796. He was connected with Carlisle at Wal- 
 pole, in book-publishing and printing the Farmers 
 Museum, and extended his business widely in 
 other quarters. At Worcester, he published a 
 folio Bible, Watts's Psalms and Hymns, with Bar- 
 low's additions, and a long series of the books in 
 vogue in the day, travels, theology, biography, 
 &c, including a set of chap books for the enter- 
 tainment, instruction, and love of the marvellous 
 throughout the country, His judgment was good. 
 A book is likely to be of some interest which has 
 his name attached. In 1810, he published his 
 History of Printing. It commences with a brief 
 history of the art of book production from the 
 earliest known manuscripts to the date of its 
 issue. This is followed by a history of printing 
 in America brought down to the end of the last 
 century ; an account of the progress of the art in 
 each state, and of the principal printers, being 
 given. The work also contains a history of news- 
 papers and an appendix of valuable notes. 
 
 Isaiah Thomas published his New England Al- 
 manac, which had something of the flavor of 
 Franklin's "Poor Richard." It first appeared in 
 1775, and was continued with several titles for 
 forty-two years, twenty-six by the father, thirteen 
 by the son, and three years by William Manning, f 
 
 His most beneficent work, however, was -the 
 leading part which he took in the foundation, in 
 1812, of the American Antiquarian Society at 
 Worcester, of which he was elected the first Presi- 
 dent. He furnished the library with books from the 
 
 * On the 3d May. 1774. "This," says Buckingham, "was 
 the first printing that was executed in any inland town in New 
 England." 
 
 t A curious account of "Thomas's Almanac." in the Boston 
 Saturday Rambler, by T. Y\*. Harris, the librarian of Harvard. 
 
BERNARD ROMANS. 
 
 303 
 
 stores of his own valuable collection, amounting 
 in all to between seven and eight thousand bound 
 volumes, a large number of tracts, and one of the 
 most valuable series of newspapers in the coun- 
 try ; erected a building for their reception on his 
 own ground, and bequeathed the land and hall to 
 the Society, with a provision equal to twenty-four 
 thousand dollars for its maintenance. In the en- 
 joyment of this legacy, the institution now occu- 
 pies a tine library building, which is situated on 
 a new lot, given to the Society, on one of the 
 finest sites in the town. 
 
 Another considerable donor to the Society was 
 the Rev. William Bentley, of ( Salem, a zealous 
 collector of books and scientific curiosities. At 
 his death, in 1819, he bequ. ".thee 1 his library and 
 cabinet chiefly to the college at Meadville, Penn- 
 sylvania, and to the Antiquarian Society.* 
 
 One of the rarities of the library is the Mather 
 collection, which consists of about a thousand 
 volumes, once belonging to the three scholars and 
 divines. Mr. Haven, in r, communication to Mr. 
 Jewett, remarks, "this is, perhaps, the oldest "pri- 
 vate library in the country that has been trans- 
 mitted from one generation to another. It was 
 obtained from Mrs. Hannah Mather Crocker, 
 grand-daughter of Cotton Mather, a". 1 only re- 
 maining representative of the family in Boston, 
 partly by gift and partly by put chase. It is called 
 in the records, ' The remains of the ancient 
 library of the Mathers,' and was considered by 
 Isaiah Thomas as 'the oldest library n New 
 England, if not in the United States.' With 
 these books was obtained a large collection of 
 tracts and manuscripts belonging to the Mathers, 
 the latter consisting of sermons, diaries, correj 
 pondence, and common-places. Mauy of the 
 tracts are political, and relate to the period of the 
 Revolution and the Commonwealth in England. "t 
 
 The library now numbers (1854) some twenty- 
 three thousand volumes, under the charge of the 
 librarian, Mr. S. F. Haven, the author of a valu- 
 able contribution — the account of the Origin of 
 the Massachusetts Company and of its Members^ 
 — to the historic literature of New England. 
 
 Antiquarian Society Hall. 
 
 * Bentley, for nearly twenty years, edited the Essex Regis- 
 ter, was a democrat in politics, of extensive acquaintance with 
 languages, and constantly employed with his pen, leaving a 
 great number of MSS. He published several sermons, a col- 
 lection of Psalms and Hymns, and a History of Salem, in the 
 Historical Collections.— Buckingham's New; 
 ii. 841. 
 
 t Letter of S. F. Haven, 
 braries, p. 46. 
 
 X Transactions American Antiquarian Society, vol. iii. 
 
 Newspaper Literature, 
 Jewett's Notices of Public Li- 
 
 The two first volumes of the Society's publica- 
 tions, the Archeeologia Americana, include 
 Caleb Atwater's Description of Western Anti- 
 quities and Albert Gallatin's Synopsis of the 
 | Indian Tribes of North America. 
 
 The light, airy alcoves of the new hall, rich in 
 old American periodical, newspaper, and other 
 literature, with its choice stores of MSS., particu- 
 larly of the old ecclesiastical history of New 
 England, seldom preserved with equal care, are a 
 noble monument to the far-sighted literary zeal of 
 Isaiah Thomas. 
 
 The benevolence of Thomas was not confined 
 to his own town. He left liberal bequests of 
 books and money to the library at Harvard and 
 the Historical Society of New York. 
 
 Ho died at Worcester, April -ith, 1831, in his 
 : eighty-second year. 
 
 BERNARD ROMANS. 
 In" 1775, Captain Bernard Romans published 
 at New York, A Concise Natural History of 
 East and West Florida; containing, an account 
 of the natural Produce of all the Southern part 
 of British America, in the three Kingdoms of 
 Nature, particularly the Animal and Vegetable. 
 
 | Likewise, the Artificial Produce now raised, or 
 possible to he raised, and. manufactured there, 
 with some commercial and political observations 
 in that part of the world, and a Chorographical 
 Account of the amc. To which is added by Way 
 
 I of Appendix, Plain and Easy Directions to Na- 
 vigators over the Bank of Bahama, the Coast of 
 
 I the two Floridas, the North of Cuba, and the 
 dangerous Gulph Passage. Noting, also, the 
 hitherto unknown Weltering Places in that Part 
 of America, intended principally for the use of 
 
 j such vessels as may be so unfortunate as to be dis- 
 
 j tressed h-j weather in that difficult part of the 
 world. 
 
 This ample title-page renders an account of the 
 contents of the work unnecessary. It is well, 
 though somewhat grandiloquently written, and its 
 information is minute and well arranged. It is 
 "Illustrated with twelve Copper Plates, and two 
 whole-sheet Maps." The copper plates are very 
 rudely executed, and consist mainly of " charac- 
 teristic heads" of the various Indian tribes of the 
 country. The allegorical frontispiece is very cu- 
 rious. It contains a shield on which are inscribed 
 the letters S.P.Q.A. This is placed beside a 
 seated female figure, having in one hand a rod on 
 the end of which is a liberty cap. She wears a 
 helmet, and smiles benignantly at an Indian who 
 is unrolling a map at her feet. Beside him is a 
 water god pouring copious streams from a jar on 
 each side of him, one of which is labelled Mis- 
 sissippi. The remaining space is dry land, upon 
 which a chunky cherub is measuring off distances 
 with a compass on an outspread map. 
 
 Bernard Romans, of Pensacola, appears as the 
 author of a letter on the compass, dated August, 
 1773, in the Transactions of the American Philo- 
 sophical Society. Romans was an engineer in 
 the British service, but was employed, about the 
 period of the publication of this work, by the 
 American government in constructing Fort Con- 
 stitution, on the island opposite West Point. He 
 applied for a commission in the American army, 
 
30i 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 which was refused him, and he soon afterwards 
 abandoned his task. 
 
 In 1778 he published a second work, Annals of 
 the Troubles in the Netherlands, from the Acces- 
 sion of Charles V. Emperor of Germany. In 
 four parts. A Proper and Seasonable Mirror for 
 the present Americans. Collected and Translated 
 from the most approved Historians in the Native 
 Tongue. Volume 1. It was published in Hart- 
 ford, and " dedicated (by permission) to His Ex- 
 cellency, Jonathan Trumbull, Esq., Governor and 
 Commander in Chief in and over the State of 
 Connecticut and its dependencies, Captain Gene- 
 ral and Admiral of the same, &c. &c. &c." In the 
 preface Romans claims the merit of a translator 
 only, and says, "As a foreigner, it cannot be ex- 
 pected that I should excel in elegance of compo- 
 sition or correctness of language. May the dreary 
 examples," he continues, " through which I lead 
 you be a comfort to you (respected Americans) 
 who are so highly favored by Providence, as in 
 all appearance to obtain the glorious blessings 
 contended for, with infinite less trouble and hard- 
 ships than fell to the lot of those heroes, whose 
 sufferings in freedom's cause are exhibited in this 
 work." 
 
 The Captain does not appear to have got beyond 
 one volume in either of his works. The one on 
 Florida, from its rarity, commands a very high 
 price; it exhibits a curious typographical pecu- 
 liarity, the pronoun, I, being printed throughout, 
 except at the commencement of a sentence, with 
 a small i. 
 
 Tea, a 'despicable wee.d, and of late attempted to 
 be'made a dirty conduit, to lead a stream of oppres- 
 sions into these happy regions, one of the greatest 
 causes of the poverty, which seems for some years 
 past to have preyed on the vitals of Britain, would 
 not have deserved my attention had it not so uni- 
 versally become a necessary of life ; and were not 
 most people so infatuated as more and more to esta- 
 blish this vile article of luxury in America, our gold 
 and silver for this dirty return is sent to Europe, 
 from whence, being joined by more from the mo- 
 ther-country, it finds its way to the Chinese, who, 
 no doubt, find sport in this instance of superior wis- 
 dom of the Europeans. These considerations, joined 
 to the additional evil of its being a monopoly of the 
 worst kind, and the frauds of mixing it with leaves 
 of other plants, ought to raise us here, to introduce 
 the plant (which is of late become pretty common 
 in Europe) into these provinces, where the same cli- 
 mate reigns as in China, and where (no doubt) the 
 same soil is to be found ; by this means we may 
 trample under foot this yoke of oppression, which 
 has so long pressed the mother country, and begins 
 to gall us very sore ; and will the Europeans (ac- 
 cording to an unaccountable custom of despising all 
 our western produce, when compared to oriental 
 ones) avoid drinking American tea! Be not ye so 
 infatuated, ye sons of America, as not to drink of 
 your own growth ! Learn to save your money at 
 home! I cannot think this advice contrary to the 
 interest of Britain, for whatever is beneficial to the 
 colonies will, in the end, be at least equally so to the 
 mother country. 
 
 DAVID EAMSAT. 
 
 Ramsat, the historian of the Revolution, was 
 born, April 2d, 17-19, in Lancaster county, Penn- 
 
 sylvania. He was the son of an Irish emigrant. 
 Before studying at the College of New Jersey, 
 which lie entered at the age of thirteen, he passed 
 a year as assistant tutor in an academy at Carlisle. 
 O.n leaving college, he was for a while a tutor in 
 Maryland; he then studied medicine at the Col- 
 lege of Pennsylvania, where he made the ac- 
 quaintance of Rush, which exercised an import- 
 ant influence on his after life. He settled in 
 Charleston, S. C, as a practitioner, and soon rose 
 to distinction by his general powers of mind, 
 particularly exerted in the cause of the Revolu- 
 tion. He delivered to the citizens a patriotic 
 oration on the second anniversary of the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, in 1778. He wrote, among 
 other occasional papers relating to the times, a 
 Sermon on' Tea, from the text, "Touch not, taste 
 not, handle not," in which he caricatured Lord 
 North ; a tract for the times, which had consider- 
 able popularity. He was army surgeon at the 
 siege of Savannah, a member of the state legis- 
 lature, and, in the fortunes of the war, was for a 
 time prisoner at St. Augustine. He was in Con- 
 gress in 1782 and 1785, in the latter year pub- 
 lishing his History of the Revolution in South 
 Carolina, and preparing his History of the 
 American Revolution, by inspection of public 
 documents and conferences with Franklin, Wither- 
 spoon, whose daughter he had married, and with 
 "Washington, at Mount Vernon. This history was 
 published in 1790. It would appear from some 
 verees of Freneau on the subject, that the work 
 was prohibited in Great Britain : — ■ 
 
 But alas ! their chastisement is only begun— 
 Thirteen are the states — and the tale is of one ; 
 When the twelve yet remaining their- stories have 
 
 told, 
 The king will run mad — aud the book will be sold. 
 
 This work was translated and published in 
 France. 
 
JOHN PARKE. 
 
 305 
 
 His Life of Washington, dedicated to the youth 
 of the United States, appeared in 1801. In 1808, 
 he published his History of South Carolina, an 
 extension of A Sketch of the Soil, Climate, Wea- 
 ther, and Diseases of South Carolina, which he 
 had published in 1796. 
 
 In 1811, Ramsay lost his second wife, the 
 daughter of Henry Laurens, and a lady of great 
 accomplishments and benevolence. She read 
 Greek familiarly. Of her liberality and pious 
 disposition it is related, that when in France she 
 received five hundred guineas from her father, 
 she employed it for the purchase and distribution 
 of testaments and the establishment of a school. 
 Memoirs of Martha Laurens Ramsay, with Ex- 
 tracts from her Diary, were published by her 
 husband shortly after her death. 
 
 The medical publications of Ramsay include 
 A Review of the Improvements, Progress, and 
 State of Medicine in the Eighteenth Century, in 
 1S00; A Medical Register for the year 1802; A 
 Dissertation on the Means of Preserving Health 
 in Charleston, and a Enlogium and Life of Dr. 
 Rush before the Medical Society of Charleston, 
 June 10, 1813; a valuable biographical sketch, 
 in which he displays a warm personal admiration 
 and close study of the character of his old friend 
 and preceptor. 
 
 In 1815, Ramsay printed a History of the In- 
 dependent or Congregational Church in Charles- 
 ton, S. C, from its origin till the year 1814, 
 including, in an Appendix, the speech of its pas- 
 tor, the Rev. Wm. Tennent, in the House of 
 Assembly, Charleston, on the Dissenting Petition 
 for Equality of Religious Denominations in the 
 eye of the Law. 
 
 Ramsay also published an Oration on the 
 Acquisition of Louisiana and a Biographical 
 Chart, on a New Plan, to facilitate the Study of 
 History. 
 
 His industry was a proverb — carrying out the 
 economy of time of Franklin and Rush to its 
 maximum. He slept but four hours, rose before 
 daylight, and meditated, book in hand, while he 
 waited for the dawn. Besides Ins historical com- 
 positions and the pursuit of his profession, he took 
 under his charge the general philanthropic and 
 social movements of the day, urging them fre- 
 quently in the press, ffis private fortune was 
 injured by his enthusiastic speculations. 
 
 While in the full activity of his intellectual oc- 
 cupations, when he had just completed his sixty- 
 sixth year, he suddenly fell a victim to the insane 
 attack of a lunatic, by whom, in open day, within 
 a few paces of his own dwelling, he was shot with 
 a pistol loaded with three balls, one of the wounds 
 from which caused his death the second day, May 
 8th, 1815. 
 
 His posthumous writings are voluminous: A 
 History of the United States from their first set- 
 tlement, as English colonies to the end of the year 
 1808, which was published in Philadelphia in 1816, 
 with a continuation to the Treaty of Ghent by 
 the Rev. Samuel Stanhope Smith, and a Universal 
 History Americanized, or an Historical View of 
 the World from the Earliest Records to the Nine- 
 teenth Century, with a particular reference to 
 the State of Society, Literature, Religion, and 
 form _ of Government of the University of 
 America, which found its way to the press in 
 
 TOL. I. 20 
 
 Philadelphia, in twelve volumes octavo, in 1819. 
 This last work had occupied its author for more 
 than forty years. 
 
 JOHN PAEKE. 
 
 In 1786, in Philadelphia, a literary novelty for 
 the times appeared in a volume entitled The 
 Lyric Wor/cs of Horace, translated into English 
 verse : to which are added, a number of original 
 Poems, by a Native of America* This was 
 John Parke, of whom we learn from Mr. Fisher's 
 notice of the Early Poets of Pennsylvania, that 
 he was probably a native of Delaware, and born 
 about the year 1750, since he was in the college 
 at Philadelphia in 1768; that "at the com- 
 mencement of the war he entered the American 
 army, and was attached, it is supposed, to 
 Washington's division, for some of his pieces are. 
 dated at camp, in the neighborhood of Boston, 
 and others at Whitemarsh and Valley Forge. 
 After the peace he was for some time in Phila- 
 delphia, and is last heard of in Arundel county, 
 Virginia."t 
 
 Parke's use of the Odes and Epistles of Horace 
 is a glory which the sanguine anticipation of the 
 Venusian never dreamt of. Having done their 
 duty nobly in old Rome, in compliments to Maece- 
 nas and encouragements to Augustus, in triumph 
 over barbaric hosts, and in the gentler celebration 
 of love, friendship, and festivity, they emerge 
 like the stream of Arethusa on a new continent, 
 in gushing emotions to General Washington, Ben- 
 jamin Franklin, Nathan Rumsey, Esq., A.B., and 
 the Reverend Samuel Magaw. 
 
 ' Parke's book, if the honors of Horatian feli- 
 city in poetry be denied it, can fall back on its 
 claims as a rather comprehensive Revolutionary 
 directory. The inscriptions at the head of the 
 odes are quite a catalogue of the worthies of tho 
 time. Augustus does duty for several persons : — 
 The Reverend William Smith, the late Provost, 
 the Hon. Thomas M'Kean, his Excellency Benja- 
 min Franklin, and even " His Most August Ma- 
 jesty" Louis XVI. Maecenas, in the same way, 
 is in turn, the Right Honorable Major-General 
 William Earl of Stirling; the Hon. John Vining, 
 member of Congress for the Delaware State; 
 Brigadier-General Richard Butler, and the Hon. 
 Major-General Varnum, of Rhode Island. An 
 Ode to Mercury is addressed to Charles M'Knight, 
 Esq., M.D., professor of anatomy and surgery in 
 Columbia College, New York; the exquisite one 
 belonging to Quintus Dellius is assigned to the 
 Hon. Colonel Samuel Wyllis, of Hartford, Con- 
 necticut; the delicate appeal to Pompeius Gros- 
 pbus in behalf of moderation and equanimity, is 
 laid at the feet, though it is hardly to bo recog- 
 nised in the least degree in the translation, of 
 John Carson, M.D., Philadelphia. The ship 
 which carried Virgil to Athens is again refitted, 
 to bear the Rev. James Davidson on the Atlantic 
 
 * The Lyric Works of riorace, translated into English 
 verse : to which are added, a number ol" Original Poems. By 
 a Native of America. 
 
 Qni cupit optatam cursu contingere mctam, 
 
 Multa tulit fecitque puer 
 
 Philadelphia: Printed by Eleazer Oswald, at the Coffee House. 
 17S0. 8vo. pp. 334. 
 t Mems. Hist, Soc. Penns. vol. ii. part ii. p. 100. 
 
306 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 wave. The bacchanal ode?, we perceive, are 
 very generally addressed to officers of the army. 
 There does not appear to have been anything 
 time-serving in this, for while he looks well after 
 the great, he " ne'er forgets the small." The 
 thirty-eighth ode of the first book, 
 
 Persicos odi puer apparatus, 
 
 is affectionately " addressed to my waiter, Jabez 
 Trapp, a soldier." For does he forget his pub- 
 lisher. The famous last ode of the third book, 
 Exegi monumentum sere perennius, 
 
 is inscribed " to Lieutenant-Colonel Eleazer Os- 
 wald, of the American Artillery," and is thus 
 translated : — 
 
 TO MELPOMENE. 
 
 Addressed to Lieutenant- Colonel Eleazee Oswald, of the 
 American Artillery. 
 
 A monument I've rais'd that shall surpass, 
 In firm duration, one of solid brass ; 
 Higher than Egypt's pyramid that stands. 
 With tow'ring pride, the work of kingly hands, 
 Unmov'd it shall outbrave the wasting rain, 
 While feeble north winds threaten it in vain: 
 The countless years, and whirling time may fly; 
 Tet this stands fast and clnims eternity. 
 I will not wholly die ; for fame shall save 
 My nobler part, and rescue from the grave; 
 While mitred priests the Capitol ascend, 
 And vestal maids the silent pomp attend, 
 Where down Ofanto rolls his rapid stream, 
 And humbler waters, known by Daunus' name, 
 Who o'er a warlike people fix'd his throne. — 
 There shall my fnme to latest time be known: 
 While future ages shall the bard admire, 
 Who tun'd to Grecian sounds the Roman lyre. 
 Then, Muse, assume the merit justly thine, 
 And for my brows a wreath of laurel twine. 
 Spottswood, June, 1778. 
 
 In the preface there is further mention of this, 
 where Mr. Parke tells us that " he has made free 
 to address the ode to his very worthy friend and 
 fellow-soldier, Lieutenant Oswald, &c, not only 
 on account of his ushering this work into the 
 world, but for his many eminent virtues as a 
 brave soldier and good citizen. The hardships 
 he has suffered, the toils he has endured, and the 
 many trying vicissitudes he has experienced in 
 the defence of his coimtry, entitle him to the 
 esteem of every patriotic and virtuous American." 
 
 This preface shows Parke to have been a man 
 of reading, and we may suppose him to have had 
 access for its composition to the stores of the 
 Loganian library. He is quite learned and criti- 
 cal in a miscellaneous way, and has brought to- 
 gether a considerable stock of interesting notices, 
 biographical and critical, of the poet. He appears 
 to have kept a scrap-book on this favorite topic, 
 in which he copied such poetical versions of 
 Horace as came to his hand from the magazines 
 and other English sources. He has included a 
 number of these among his own, sometimes 
 taking the whole ode, and at others interpolating 
 Lines and verses, but scrupulously pointing out his 
 indebtedness in each case, in his preface.* A 
 
 * We have seen John Adams, the clergyman of Newport, 
 employing his pen upon Horace (ante, p. 134), and Logan trans- 
 lating the Cato Major. There is another early instance in the ( 
 
 specimen of the latter is the ninth ode of the 
 third book, in which the first, second, third, and 
 seventh stanzas belong to Alexander Pope. 
 
 TO LOLLnjS. 
 
 Imitated — Addressed to his Eoxt llency Benjamtn Feanexitt, 
 Esquire, LL.D. F.E.S., Minuter Plenipotentiary from the 
 United States to the Court of Versailles, t&c. dc. 
 
 Lest you should think that verse shall die, 
 Which sounds the silver Thames along, 
 
 Taught on the wings of truth to fly 
 Above the reach of vulgar song : 
 
 Though daring Hilton sits sublime, 
 
 In Spencer, native muses play ; 
 Nor yet shall Waller yield to time, 
 
 Or pensive Cowley's moral lay. 
 
 Sages and chiefs long since had birth 
 
 Ere Ccesar was, or Newton nam'd; 
 Those rais'd new empires o'er the earth, 
 
 And these new Heavens and systems fram'd, 
 
 Grosvenor was not the only fair 
 
 By an unlawful passion fir'd ; 
 Who, the gay trappings and the hair 
 
 Of a young royal spark admir'd. 
 
 Mugene and Marlhrd , with their host 
 
 Were not the first in battle fnm'd: 
 Columbia more wars could boast, 
 
 Ere mighty Washington was nam'd. 
 
 Before this western world was sought, 
 Heroes there were who for their wives, 
 
 Their children, and their country fought, 
 And bravely sacrific'd their fives. 
 
 Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride, 
 They had no poet and they died: 
 In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled, 
 They had no poet and are dead. 
 
 What diff'rence then can virtue claim 
 
 From vice, if it oblivious lie? 
 While I can sing your spotless name, 
 
 Tour worthy deeds 6hall never die. 
 
 Nor shall oblivion's livid power 
 
 Your patriotic toils conceal : 
 Alike in good, or adverse hour, 
 
 A patron of the common-weaL 
 
 Forever faithful and sincere, 
 
 Your hands from gilded baits are free: 
 
 The public villain stands in fear 
 You should perpetual consul be. 
 
 The knave possest of shining pelf, 
 Can never sway your honest choice : 
 
 For justice, emblem of yourself, 
 Exalts above the rabble's voice. 
 
 Rev. Caleb Alexander's Works of Virgil Translated into lite- 
 ral Englishprose ; u-Uh some Explanatory Notes. Printed at 
 Worcester, Mass., by Leonard Worcester, for David West, of 
 Boston. 1796. 8vo. pp. 673. The Latin is on one side 
 and the English on the other. The book is, doubtless, in the 
 memory of the schoolboy days of some of the older scholars 
 of the country. In the preface. Alexander remarks naively, 
 Li By some it may possibly be said, that, in several instances, I 
 have wholly mistaken the sense of Virgil. If I have it is no 
 surprise. For, when there is such a variety of meanings to 
 many Latin words, it is extremely difficult to ascertain, in 
 every instance, the sense affixed to each word by the author. 
 In reading English books, we often find it difficult to under- 
 stand the true meaning of the writer. And surely it can be 
 no wonder, if a translator of a Latin book should mistake the 
 original sense of many words." Alexander was born in North- 
 field, Mass., and was a graduate of Yale in 1777. He was set- 
 tled at Mendon, as a clergyman, made " an ineffectual attempt 
 to establish a college at Fairfield, in New York," took charge of 
 an academy at Onondaga Hollow, where he died in 1828. He 
 published a Latin and English Grammar, and some other 
 writings. — Allen's Biog. Diet, 
 
JOHN PARKE. 
 
 307 
 
 Nor can we rank him with the blest, 
 
 To whom large stores of wealth are giv*n ; 
 
 But him, who of enough possest, 
 
 Knows how t' enjoy the gifts of Heav'n. 
 
 Who poverty serenely bears, 
 
 With all the plagues the Gods can send ; 
 Who death to infamy prefers, 
 
 To save his country or his friend. 
 Dover, 1781. 
 
 To one of the odes, the fourteenth of the third 
 book, lie has given quite an American turn. It 
 is that one in which Horace celebrates the return 
 of Augustus from his Spanish expedition, where 
 he calls upon Li via, the wife of the hero, to greet 
 his arrival, and claims the joyful time as a true 
 holiday for himself, to banish black cares — while 
 he summons his valet to bring ointment, and gar- 
 lands, and a cask, with its old memories of the 
 Marsian conflict, if indeed such a cask could have 
 escaped that nefarious stroller, Spartacus, and to 
 call the witty Neasra — while, doubtful if she will 
 come to such an old gentleman as himself, ho 
 thinks how age compensates for neglect by its in- 
 difference, andheavesagentle sigh as he recalls the 
 different treatment he would have exacted in his 
 days of young blood, in " the consulship of Plan- 
 cus." We have some compunctions at intro- 
 ducing Parkes's platitudes in connexion with this 
 delicately touched effusion ; but something is due 
 to antiquarian curiosity, and the reader may be 
 amused at the substitution of Martha Washington 
 for the spouse of Augustus, the return of her 
 husband after the surrender of Cornwallis in lieu 
 of the CauUibrian conquest, and feel the force of 
 the comparison between the marauding Spartacus 
 and the depredating itinerant British officers, 
 who drank up so much of the best old wine 
 stored in the country. The remonstrance to the 
 porter is a vigorous, but perhaps undignified 
 translation of the Roman poet's 
 
 Si per in visum mora janitorem 
 Fiet, abito. 
 
 ON TnB UETUKN OF AUGUSTUS FEOM SPAIN. 
 
 Paraphrased on General Washington's Retarn from Virginia, 
 
 Addressed to Major-General Hf.nry Knox, late Commander 
 of ArtUiery, and Secretary-at- War, New York. 
 
 Rejoice, Columbia, for thy son, 
 
 As great Alcides did of yore, 
 With laurels crown'd, and fame in battles won, 
 Returns victorious from Virginia's shore : 
 Cornwallis vanquish'd and our country sav'd, 
 The grateful tribute of our joy demands, 
 
 On ev'ry heart his name's engrav'd, 
 
 Long as fch' united empire stands. 
 
 Chaste Martha shall embrace her spouse, 
 
 So long detaiu'd by war's alarms; 
 And to the righteous Heaven prefer her vows, 
 For giving back her hero to her arms. 
 Her widow'J daughter, beautiful in tears, 
 Shall grace the scene, and swell the thankful train, 
 
 While aged matrons bent with years, 
 
 Shall crowd the supplicated fane. 
 
 Ye maids in blooming beauty's pride, 
 
 Ye lovely youths, a hopeftd race! 
 Say not, alas ! your dearest friends have dy'd, 
 Nor let a frown of sadness cloud your face: 
 This day let mirth alone your souls employ, 
 Nor, careless, drop one inauspicious word, 
 
 But join the great eclat of joy, 
 And hail Columbia's valiant lord. 
 
 Well pleas'd I give each anxious care, 
 
 To plotting knaves and coward fools, 
 No civil strife, or foreign wars I fear, 
 While Washington our conq'ring army rules. 
 Boy, bring us oil, and let our heads be crown'd 
 With fragrant wreaths, go tap the farthest pipe, 
 
 If such a one is to be found, 
 
 That 'scap'd the plund'ring Briton's gripe. 
 
 Let Mira come the feast to grace, 
 
 With hair perfum'd in jetty Curl! 
 But should her porter teaze you with delays, 
 Bid him be d — d, and leave the saucy churl. 
 Now creeping age, with venerable hoar, 
 And snowy locks o'ershade my wrinkled brows, 
 
 With love my bosom beats no more, 
 
 No more my breast with anger glows. 
 
 Such flights I was not wont to bear, 
 Wiien young, I follow'd Mars' s trade; 
 When in the field I bore the warlike spear, 
 The sword, the epaulet and spruce cockade. 
 Philadelphia, 1782. 
 
 The seventh ode of the first book, " To Muna- 
 tius Plancus," is familiar, with its splendid eulogy 
 of the echoing waters of Albunea and the groves 
 of Tiber, with that kindling story of old Teucer. 
 This is Mr. Parke's substitute for it : — ■ 
 
 TO MUNATIUS PLANCUS. 
 
 A Fragment Imitated*. 
 
 Addressed to Biohabv Howell, Esq., of New Jersey, late 
 Major in the Army. 
 
 Let other bards, in sonorous, lofty song, 
 Rehearse the glories of European climes ; 
 
 The charms of Britain rapturously prolong, 
 Or famed Icrnc in heroic rhymes: — - 
 
 Tell of New York, on ev'ry side begirt, 
 
 With Hudson's bleak, tempestuous, briny wave: 
 
 Of Ab'ram's Plains their tuneful powers exert, 
 The fall of heroes and of vet'rans brave : — 
 
 Of Kent, far distant, with a. farmer blest, 
 
 Whose Muse, oppression's out-stretch'd canvas 
 furl'd ; 
 
 Of Pennsylvania, happy in a West, 
 The great Apelles of this infant world. 
 
 Some praise Madeira for its gen'rous wine, 
 
 And Schuylkill's pleasant shades and silver 
 stream ; 
 
 Or with pedantic pride, in strains divine, 
 
 Dwell on the Muses' Seat — their fav'rite theme. 
 
 Then witli a feign'd, patriotic zeal, 
 
 Affect the soldier, and Virginia praise, — 
 
 Fam'd for her steeds ; while some the public weal 
 Of Penn in adulating numbers raise. 
 
 Nor Boston's police, or the high-ting' d bowers 
 Of fertile Hampstead, please so much, as where, 
 
 The silver Christiana gently pours, 
 A wat'ry tribute to the Delaware. 
 
 Where Sieanwick's lofty trees, their summits raise, 
 And fragrant orchards court the solar beam; 
 
 Pleas'd with the sight the waterman delays, 
 To view the forest, dancing on the stream. 
 
 Surrounded by a verdant grove-fring'd mead, 
 
 Which from the northern blasts its beauty 
 shrouds, 
 
 N — C — e seems to rear its ancient head, 
 And point its lustre to the passing clouds. 
 
308 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 There may I live, inemulous of fame, 
 Nor wish the laurel, or the post's bays: 
 
 I ask not riches, or a mighty name, 
 
 But there, in sweet content, to end my days. 
 
 The volume which contains these translations 
 from Horace has also a copious stock of Miscel- 
 lanies — the compositions of Parke and his friends. 
 Several of them are by a young British officer, 
 John Wilcocks, who appears from an elegy, after 
 Tibullus, dedicated to his memory, to have be- 
 longed to " the eighteenth, or Royal regiment of 
 Ireland," and to have died at the early age of 
 twenty-two. Parke tells us that " the genius of 
 this young soldier seemed to be entirely adapted 
 to pastoral elegy and satire, of the last of which 
 he was a master." The verses which bear his 
 signature are creditable to his powers, though 
 they are but trifles ; for example — 
 
 TrrE TWO PEACOCKS. 
 
 How oft, dear Jack, we others blame 
 
 For faults, when guilty of the same ! 
 
 But so it is, my friend, with man, 
 
 See his own faults he never can ; 
 
 But quickly with discerning eyes, 
 
 His neighbour's imperfection spies. 
 
 The beau oft blames his tawdry brother. 
 
 And coquettes laugh at one another : 
 
 Delia Chloe can't abide, 
 
 Yet blames her own in Delia's pride. 
 
 But to illustrate and make clear 
 
 What I advance, this Fable hear. 
 
 Two peacocks as they're wont to be. 
 
 Elate with pride and vanity, 
 
 Were strutting in a farmer's yard, 
 
 Viewing with envious regard 
 
 Each other's dress, replete with spleen, 
 
 As fops at balls are often seen. 
 
 At length his plumage to the sun 
 
 Wide-spreading, one of them begun; 
 
 " God bless me, friend, you're very fine ! 
 
 Your feathers almost equal mine ; 
 
 But then, your legs! I vow and swear, 
 
 Your legs are not the thing, my dear: 
 
 Your voice, too, poh ! it is so squalling! 
 
 Pray, friend, correct that hideous bawling." 
 
 To which the other thus replies. 
 
 " Remove the mote from out your eyes, 
 
 View your own legs, then say if thine, 
 
 Proud thing, can be compar'd to mine? 
 
 Your voice ! but see the farmer there, 
 
 Let hint be judge in this affair." 
 
 The farmer, laughing at their pride. 
 
 Proceeds, the matter to decide. 
 
 " No difference in your legs, I see, 
 
 Your voices sound alike to me." 
 
 Thus spoke the swain, — the peacocks cry 
 " A silly judge !" and off they fly. 
 
 PAKODT ON MR. POPE'S ODE TO SOLITUDE. 
 
 Happy the boy, whose wish and care 
 
 A little bread and butter serves; 
 
 Content at meals to drink small bear, 
 
 And eat preserves. 
 Whose tops, whose marbles give him pleasure. 
 
 Whose balls afford him great delight; 
 Whose pennies shine, a mighty treasure 
 
 To charm his sight, 
 
 Blest who can ev'ry morning find 
 
 Some idle lads with whom to play ; 
 When in the fields he hath a mind 
 
 From school to stray. 
 
 Nor ferula fears, nor birch most dire. 
 
 But play all day, and sleep all night ; 
 Some other boy for cash will hire,. 
 
 His task to write. 
 
 Thus let me live, thus life enjoy, 
 Until to manhood I arrive ; 
 And thus, like me, sure ev'ry boy 
 
 To live will strive. 
 
 Mr. John Prior, of Delaware, is another 
 writer of verses, who figures in this collection, 
 in an ambitious patriotic way, as the writer of a 
 " New Year Ode, in 1779, for the Return of 
 Peace," and in several minor effusions, "To 
 Chloe stung by a Wasp," and in some lines " Writ- 
 ten in a Young Lady's Pocket-book." The vo- 
 lume "winds up" with Virginia; a Pastoral 
 Drama, on the Birth-day of an Illustrious Per- 
 sonage, and the Return of Peace, Feb. 11, 1784, 
 with the motto — 
 
 Quo nihil majus, meliusve terris 
 Fata donavere, bonique divi, 
 Nee dabunt, quamvis redeant in aurum 
 Tempora priseum, 
 
 which appears to be from the patriotic if not 
 poetical pen of Colonel Parke. 
 
 JOHN TETJMBULL, 
 
 The author oflPFingal, the humorous epic sketch 
 of the Revolution, was born in the present town- 
 ship of Watertown, Connecticut, April 24, 1750, 
 of a family each branch of which has contri- 
 buted its share of honor to the state. The 
 American head of the house came from England 
 to Ipswich in Massachusetts, in 1645. His son 
 removed to Connecticut. Of the three grand- 
 sons, his children, John Trumbull the poet was 
 the representative of the first in the third genera- 
 tion; the second gave the first governor to the 
 state, Jonathan Trumbull,* in the second genera- 
 tion, and another Jonathan Trumbull, governor, 
 with his brother the distinguished painter, in the 
 third ; while the grandson of the third Benjamin 
 wrote the history of the state.t The father of 
 our author was the minister of the Congregational 
 Church of his district ; his mother is spoken of 
 as possessed of superior education. A delicate 
 child and fond of books, of which the supply in 
 general literature was very limited at home, being 
 confined to the Spectator and Watts's Hymns, he 
 
 * Jonathan Trumbull passed half a century in public life, for 
 the last fifteen years of which he was Governor of Connecti- 
 cut, declining the annual election in 17S3. after the close of the 
 war, of which he had been a zealous supporter. Washington 
 wrote of him "as the first of patriots: in his social duties yield- 
 ing to none." He died in 1785. aged 74. W. Chastelln'x, the 
 traveller, who saw him when he was seventy, describes him as 
 possessing " all the simplicity in his dress, all the importance 
 and even all the pedantry, becoming the great magistrate of a 
 small republic. He brought to my mind the burgomasters of 
 Holland, the Heinsiuses and the Earneveldts." 
 
 T Benjamin Trumbull was a graduate of Tale College, and 
 was assisted in his education by Dr. Wheelock. the energetic 
 founder of Dartmouth College, who preached the sermon at his 
 ordination, commending him to the people as not " a sensual, 
 sleepy, lazy, dumb dog. that cannot Dark." From that time 
 till his death, he passed nearly sixty years in the ministry at 
 North Haven, Connecticut. His publications were, besides 
 several occasional sermons and discourses od the divine origin 
 of the Scriptures, A Complete History of Connecticut, Civil 
 and Ecclesiastical, from the emigration of its first planted 
 from England, in the year 1680, to the year 1764; and to the 
 close of the Indian wars. 2 vols. 8vo. 1797, 1S18, and a History 
 of the United States to 1705. Vol. i. in 1S19. 
 
JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 309 
 
 Birth-place of Trumbull. 
 
 was early trained by his father for Yale College, of 
 ■which institution he was admitted a member on 
 examination at the precocious age of seven,* 
 though his actual residence at college was wisely 
 adjourned till six years afterwards. During this 
 period he became acquainted with some of the 
 best English classics, and subsequently took up 
 their defence, as a branch of study, in opposition 
 to the exclusive preference of the college for the 
 ancient languages, mathematics, and theology. 
 He was a fellow-student with Timothy Dwight, 
 with whom he formed an intimate and lasting 
 friendship. They wrote together papers in the 
 style of the Spectator, then the standard model 
 for this class of compositions, which they pub- 
 lished in the journals of Boston and New Haven. 
 The two friends in 1771 became tutors together 
 in the college, and the next year Trumbull pub- 
 lished his Progress of Dulness, a year after en- 
 larging it by a second and third part. The lite- 
 rary quartette was completed by the junction of 
 Humphreys and Barlow. 
 
 Under cover of the tutorship, Trumbull studying 
 law was admitted to the bar in Connecticut, in 
 1773, and as he had entered college first and pre- 
 pared himself afterw irds, so upon his admission as 
 an attorney, he proceeded to Boston and became 
 a student in the office of John Adams, the sub- 
 sequent President of the United States. In this 
 patriotic society he learnt the lesson of American 
 Independence in its elements, and learnt it well ; 
 recording his impressions of the rising spirit of 
 freedom and resistance in An Elegy on th-e Times, 
 a poem of sixty-eight stanzas, which celebrates 
 the Port Bill and non-consumption of foreign 
 luxuries, the strength of the country, and its 
 future glories contrasted with the final downfall 
 of England. 
 
 At the end of 1774, Trumbull returned to New 
 Haven, and wrote what now stands as the first, 
 second, and third cantos of M'Fingal. The period 
 of the war was chiefly passed by him in his 
 native place. In 17S1 he took up his residence at 
 Stratford, and at the termination of the war in 
 1782 completed M'Fingal, revising his early 
 sketches, and adding the concluding canto. Its 
 
 * "With Trumbull, Dr. Emmons was particularly intimate, 
 aud held him in his lap when, at the aire of seven or eight, the 
 author of M'Fingal passed a satisfactory examination on the 
 studies required for admission to College."— Prof. Park's 
 Notices of Dr. Emuious. 
 
 popularity was very great. There were more 
 than thirty different pirated impressions, in 
 pamphlet and other forms, which were circulated 
 by " the newsmongers, hawkers, pedlars, and 
 petty chapmen" of the day. 
 
 Having served his country during the Revolu- 
 tion, he employed lus pen again in the second 
 and not inferior work of preserving it for union 
 and the constitution. He was one of the writers 
 of the Anarchiad, a newspaper series of papers at 
 Hartford, a production levelled at the irregulari- 
 ties of the day, and of which an account will be 
 found in the life of his associate in the work, 
 Lemuel Hopkins. He was afterwards called into 
 public life as a member of the State Legislature, 
 and in 1301 became Judge of the Superior Court 
 of the State, continuing to reside at Hartford till 
 1S25, when he removed to Detroit, Michigan, the 
 residence of his daughter, Mrs. Woodbridge, where 
 he died, May 12, 1831, of a gradual decline, at 
 the age of eighty-one, a mature period for a life 
 which had been visited by ill health at intervals 
 from childhood. 
 
 The collection of his Poems* appeared at Hart- 
 ford in 1820, with a prefatory memoir closing 
 with a broken sentence, interrupted by asterisks 
 — which, with the absence of critical commenda- 
 tion, suggests that the author himself was holding 
 the pen. This edition was published by sub- 
 scription, and it is not to the credit of the public 
 of that year that only a small subscription was 
 obtained. The publisher, Mr. S. G. Goodrich, lost 
 money by the undertaking, but a thousand dollars 
 and a hundred copies of the work had been 
 secured to the author. 
 
 Of the miscellaneous productions of Trumbull, 
 The Progress of Dullness, a satirical poem, com- 
 posed in bis twenty-second year, is the most im- 
 portant. It is in the octosyllabic measure, in three 
 parts. 
 
 The first recounts the adventures of Tom 
 Brainless. That hero is sent to college, where 
 his natural dulness is rather strengthened than 
 abated by his smattering of unprofitable studies, 
 and the cheap protection of his diploma. Find- 
 ing it necessary to do something for himself in 
 the world, he learns "the art of preaching," and 
 of stealing judiciously out of Pool and Henry, 
 which accomplishments acquired, he ascends the 
 pulpit. 
 
 Now in the desk, with solemn air, 
 Our hero makes his audience stare ; 
 Asserts with all dogmatic boldness, 
 Where impudence is yoked with dulness ; 
 Reads o'er his notes with halting pace 
 Mask'd in the stiffness of his face ; 
 With gestures such as might become 
 Those 6tatues once that spoke at Rome, 
 Or Livy's ox, that to the state 
 Declared the oracles of fate. 
 In awkward tones, nor said, nor sung, 
 Slow rumbling o'er the falt'ring tongue, 
 Two hours his drawling speech holds on, 
 And names it preaching, when he's done. 
 
 * The Poetical Works of John Trumbull. LL.D., containing 
 M'Fingal, a Modern Epic Poem, revised and corrected, with 
 copious explanatory notes; the Progress of Dulness; and a 
 collection of Poems on various subjects, written before and 
 during the Revolutionary war. 2 vols. Hartford : Printed for 
 S. G. Goodrich. 1S20. 
 
510 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Dick Hairbrain is introduced to us in the 
 second part, a town fop, the son of a wealthy 
 farmer, ridiculous in dress, empty of knowledge, 
 but profound in swearing and cheap infidelity 
 picked up second-hand from Hume and Voltaire. 
 His college course was as dull in point of learn- 
 ing, though a little more animated in profligacy, 
 than that of his predecessor. 
 
 What though in algebra, his station 
 Was negative in each equation ; 
 Though in astronomy survey'd, 
 His constant course was retrograde ; 
 O'er Newton's system though he sleeps, 
 And finds his wits in dark eclipse! 
 His talents proved of highest price 
 At all the arts of card and dice ; 
 His genius turn'd with greatest skill, 
 To whist, loo, cribbnge, and quadrille, 
 And taught, to every rival's shame, 
 Each nice distinction of the game. 
 
 He becomes a travelled fool, of course, and 
 runs through his coxcombry and dissipation, till 
 the jail and the palsy relieve him, and the poor 
 creature sinks out of 6ight, to give place to 
 another shifting of the poet's drop-scene, when 
 the counterpart of this delectable gentleman, Miss 
 Harriet Simper, makes her appearance on the 
 stage. She illustrates the slender stock of female 
 education, formerly in vogue, and the life of the 
 coquette in those good old times of our fore- 
 fathers, when, among the many who were valiant 
 and industrious, and led simple honest lives, there 
 was room as usual for some who were indolent 
 and conceited. The fops and beaux surrounding 
 this lady present a curious scene of the day 
 when the Sunday meeting was the battle-held for 
 the artillery of love and fashion : — 
 
 As though they meant to take by blowi 
 Th' opposing galleries of beaux, 
 To church the female squadron move, 
 All arm'd with weapons used in love. 
 Like colour'd ensigns gay and fair, 
 High caps rise floating in the air; 
 Bright silk its varied radiance flings, 
 And streamers wave in kissing-strings ; 
 Each bears th' artill'ry of her charms, 
 Like training bands at viewing arms. 
 So once in fear of Indian beating, 
 Our grandsires bore their guns to meeting, 
 Each man equipp'd on Sunday morn, 
 AVith Psalm-book, shot and powder-horn ; 
 And look'd in form, as all must grant, 
 Like th' ancient, true church militant; 
 Or fierce, like modern deep divines, 
 "Who fight with quills, like porcupines; — 
 
 when the fortunes of gallantry and domestic 
 happiness were read out of tea-cups ; when the 
 ladies grew ecstatic over the hazards of virtuous 
 Pamela, and the gentleman swore by Lovelace, or 
 sported philosophy out of Tristram Shandy — for 
 whose humors, by the way, our author should 
 have had a better fellow-feeling. He speaks, in a 
 note, of the transitory reputation of that not yet 
 quite or likely soon-to-be-forgotten publication. 
 Miss Harriet Simper, after jilting her admirers by 
 scores, falls a victim to Hairbrain, who proves as 
 great a flirt as herself, and rejects her advances. 
 Thrown off by the beau, she finally accepts our 
 dull old friend of the first canto, Brainless, for 
 whom, in consideration of the marriage, 
 
 The parish vote him five pounds clear 
 T increase his salary every year. 
 Then swift the tag-rag gentry come 
 To welcome Madame Brainless home ; 
 Wish their good Parson joy ; with pride 
 In order round salute the bride : 
 At home, at visits and at meetings, 
 To Madam all allow precedence ; 
 Greet her at church with rev'rence due, 
 And next the pulpit fix her pew. 
 
 The manners of this poem are well painted, 
 the satire is just, and the reflections natural and 
 pointed. It may still be read with pleasure. 
 The plea for the humanities, as opposed to the dry 
 abstractions and pedantries of college education, 
 is not yet exhausted in its application; and the 
 demand for higher studies and a more profound 
 respect for woman, have been enough agitated of 
 late to commend the early effort of Trumbull in 
 this enlightened cause. In his case, as in many 
 others of the kind, the perceptions of the wit 
 outran the slower judgments of duller men. 
 
 ^__^y^r^i^y^tt^^^C c ^^y' 
 
 The poem of MTingal is Trumbull's lasting 
 work for fame. The author himself has described 
 its purpose and method in a letter written in 
 1785 to the Marquis de Chastellux, who had 
 complimented him, from the French capital, upon 
 fulfilling the conditions of burlesque poetry ac- 
 cording to the approved laws from the days of 
 Homer. In reply, Trumbull says he would have 
 been happy to have seen the rules alluded to 
 before he composed the poem ; but he had not 
 written it without design or attempt at construc- 
 tion. It had been undertaken " with a political 
 view, at the instigation' of some leading members 
 of the first Congress, who urged him to compose 
 a satirical poem on the events of the campaign in 
 the year 1775," and he had aimed at expressing, 
 " in a poetical manner, a general account of the 
 American contest, with a particular description 
 of the character and manners of the times, inter- 
 spersed with anecdotes, which no history could 
 
JOHN TRUMBULL), 
 
 311 
 
 probably record or display: and with as much 
 impartiality as possible, satirize the follies and 
 extravagances of my countrymen as well as of 
 their enemies. I determined to describe every 
 subject in the manner it struck my own imagina- 
 tion, and without confining myself to a perpetual 
 effort at wit, drollery, and humour, indulge every 
 variety of manner, as my subject varied, and 
 insert all the ridicule, satire, sense, sprightliness, 
 and elevation, of which I was master." In car- 
 rying out this design, M'Fingal, a burly type of 
 the monarchy-loving squires of New England, is 
 chosen as the representative of the general Tory 
 interests and personages of the country. Hono- 
 rius is the Whig champion of freedom and oppo- 
 sition, and the poem is mostly an harangue 
 between the two. It opens with, a meeting 
 assembled for political discussion in the church 
 of M'Fingal's native town, whither he has just 
 arrived from Boston. Honorius commences with 
 a general attack on the decay of Britain, and her 
 injurious course towards the colonies, with free 
 allusion to court lawyers, clergymen, and interested 
 merchants, when he is suddenly interrupted by 
 M'Fingal, with a fierce diatribe of reproach and 
 expostulation, the humor of which consists in 
 clinching every nail driven in by his opponent ; 
 for the squire was one of those arguers more dan- 
 gerous to his friends than his foes. 
 
 As some muskets so contrive it, 
 As oft to miss the mark they drive at, 
 And though well aim'd at duek or plover, 
 Bear wide, and kick their owners over: 
 So fared our Squire, whose reas'ning toil 
 Would often on himself recoil, 
 And so much injured more his side, 
 The stronger arguments he applied; 
 As old war-elephants, disuury'd, 
 Trod down the troops they came to aid, 
 And hurt their own side more in battle, 
 Than less and ordinary cattle. 
 
 The clergy, with their divine right for the 
 powers that be, the royal editors and council- 
 men are brought before us, and their pretensions 
 knocked about as shuttlecocks from one arguer 
 to the other. 
 
 Canto first is adjourned for dinner, which re- 
 freshment being secured, the parties meet to 
 battle again witli renewed vigor in the afternoon. 
 M'Fingal taunts the company with the blessings 
 of Puritan exile, and the various measures of 
 government; and after this ironical appeal to their 
 gratitude, throws in an alarm for their fears, in 
 a glance at the movements of General Gage. 
 Honorius sneers at the Boston general, and 
 M'Fingal gets the floor again, pouring forth an 
 eloquent flood of declamation upon British vic- 
 tories, and confiscations in prospect, the rise of 
 Tories and fall of Wings. Honorius, in turn, 
 sounds a trumpet-tongued harangue for freedom. 
 The Tories lose tiieir temper, and the contest for 
 order is louder and louder, till the attention of 
 the combatants is diverted by a movement with- 
 out. This is the famous gathering for the conse- 
 cration of the liberty pole, which is the central 
 point of the third canto. M'Fingal endeavors to ! 
 disperse the mob by tongue and constable, but at j 
 the first note of the riot act and proclamation, | 
 ' ; Our Sovereign Lord the King" arguments are i 
 
 seconded by stones and clubs; a general fight 
 ensues, M'Fingal's sword enacts prodigies, but 
 a revolutionary spade, which had planted the 
 liberty pole, wielded by a stout Whig, disarms 
 him. The constable, who had skulked at the 
 beginning of the fray, is twisted midway in air 
 by the breech, a philosophical position compared 
 to Socrates in his basket, a height from which he 
 soon sees the error of his ways ; while a court, 
 hastily assembled on the spot, assigns the graver 
 fate of tarring and feathering to M'Fingal — a 
 comic invention of the Revolution, a huge prac- 
 tical joke partaki ng something of the jocular Puri- 
 tan humors of old Cromwell; inconvenient, doubt- 
 less, but better every way for all parties than the 
 prison ships and cruelties of the British.* The 
 decree having been executed in an exemplary 
 manner — 
 
 And now the mob, dispersed and gone, 
 Left Squire and Constable alone. 
 The Constable with rueful face 
 Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace; 
 And fast beside him, cheek by jowl, 
 Stuck 'Squire M'Fingal 'gainst the pole, 
 Glued by the tar t' his rear applied, 
 Like barnacle on vessel's side. 
 
 M'Fingal, at the opening of the fourth canto, 
 retires under cover of night to the cellar of his 
 mansion, where there is a secret Tory muster, 
 burlesqued from Satan and his pandemonium, 
 the chiefs sitting about on ale kegs and cider 
 barrels, the Squire discoursing from the rostrum 
 of the potato bin. His Scotch descent enables 
 him to close the poem with a vision of second 
 sight, an excellent piece of machinery. This por- 
 tion being written after the war, has the benefit 
 of history for its predictions. It is an eloquent 
 recapitulation of the varied fortunes of the strug- 
 gle. The humor is exquisite, and refined by the 
 truthful force and occasionally elevated treatment 
 of the subject. When the last battle of the Revo- 
 lution has been fought, and the narrowing ge- 
 nius of England been contrasted in the uninvited 
 inspiration of the Squire with the expansive force 
 of America, the mob discovers the retreat; the 
 assembly is dispersed, M'Fingal escapes out of a 
 window en route to Boston, and the poem is 
 closed. 
 
 M'Fingal is modelled upon Hudibras in a cer- 
 tain general treatment, the construction of its 
 verse, and many of its turns of humor ;f but it is 
 
 * Brackenridge, in his Modem Chivalry, assigns the origin 
 of this custom to "the town of Boston, just before the com- 
 mencement of the American Revolution ;" though he admits 
 in a note, "this mode of punishment is said to be alluded to in 
 the laws of Oleron." He pronounces it '• to be what may be 
 called a revolutionary punishment, beyond what in a settled 
 state of government may be inflicted by the opprobrium of 
 opinion, and yet short of the coercion or the laws. It took rise 
 in thesea-coast towns in America, and I would suppose it to 
 be owing to some accidental conjunction of the seamen and 
 the citizens, devising a mode of punishment for a person 
 obnoxious. The sailors naturally thought of tar, and the 
 women, who used to be assisting on the-e occasions, thought 
 of bolsters and pillow-cases." The "phimeopicean robe" is, 
 however, as old as the crusaders: Richard Cceur do Lion hav- 
 ing, among other laws for the regulation of his followers on 
 shipboard, ordered that "A man convicted of theft or 'pickerie 1 
 was to have his head shaved, and hot pitch poured upon his 
 bare pate, and over the pitch the feathers of some pillow or 
 cushion were to be shaken, as a mark whereby he might be 
 known as a thief."— Pictorial History of England, i. 487. 
 t As to the comparative execution of the two productions, 
 
312 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATI' RE 
 
 so thoroughly American in its ideas and subject 
 matter, that it soon ceases to be an imitation, and 
 we look upon it solely as it was — an original pro- 
 duct of the times. The Hudibrastic body is tho- 
 roughly interpenetrated by its American spirit. 
 The illustrations, where there was the greatest 
 temptation to plagiarism, are drawn from the wri- 
 ter's own biblical and classical reading, and the 
 colloquial familiarities of the times. For the 
 manners of the poem there is no record of the 
 period which supplies so vivid a presentation of 
 the old Revolutionary Whig habits of thinking 
 and acting. We are among the actors of the day, 
 the town committees, the yeomanry, the politi- 
 cians, and soldiers, participating the rough hu- 
 mor of the times; for nothing is more character- 
 istic of the struggle than a certain vein of plea- 
 santry and hearty animal spirits which entered 
 into it. Hardships were endured with fortitude, for 
 which there was occasion enough, but the contest 
 was carried on with wit as with other weapons. 
 The fathers of the Revolution were as ready to take 
 a joke as a bullet, though there might be as much 
 lead in one as the other. There were pleasant 
 fellows on both sides, but if the palm of victory 
 were to be assigned to the wits, the Freneaus, 
 Trumbulls, Hopkinsuns, and Ilopkinses, would 
 carry the day against the Myles Coopers, Mather 
 Biles, Rivingtons, Scovills, Burgoynes, and Major 
 Andres. 
 
 AN EPITHALAMIITM. 
 
 Ye nine great daughters of Jupiter, 
 
 Born of one mother at a litter, 
 
 Virgins, who ne'er submit to wifedom, 
 
 But sing and fiddle all your lifetime, 
 
 In verse and rhyme great wholesale dealers, 
 
 Of which we bards are but retailers, 
 
 Assist. But chiefly thou, my Muse, 
 
 Who never didst thine aid refuse, 
 
 Whether I sung in high bombastick, 
 
 Or sunk to simple Hudibrastic, 
 
 Or in dire dumps proclaim'd my moan, 
 
 Taught rocks to weep, aud hills to groan, 
 
 there are certainly lines in Trumbull which may be readily 
 mistaken lor Butler. The couplet from M'Fiugal, 
 
 But optics sharp it needs. I ween, 
 To see what is not to be seen, 
 
 would be assigned by 'nine cultivated persons out of ten, decid- 
 ing from the ear and sense, to be from Hudibl'as. A story is 
 told of a Virginia legislator quoting the pithy sentence of 
 M'Fiugal— 
 
 A thief ne'er felt the halter draw 
 
 With good opinion of the law, 
 
 from Hudibras. and of its so standing entered in his speech on 
 the official debates of the State convention. (Art. M'Fiugal, 
 Southern Literary Messenger. April, 1841.) 
 
 President Dwight, whose gravity and judgment, at the late 
 period of his life when he wrote this opinion, weie not likely to 
 be unfairly sacrificed to his regard for an old friend, says of 
 Trumbull's poem: "It may be observed, without any partial- 
 ity, that M'Fingal is not inferior in wit and humour tit Hu- 
 dibras; aud in every other respect is superior. It has a regu- 
 lar plan, in which all the parts are well proportioned and con- 
 nected. The subject is fairly proposed, and the story con- 
 ducted correctly through a series of advancements and retard- ' 
 ations to a catastrophe, wbicb is natural and complete. The 
 versification is tar better, the poetry is in several instances in a 
 good degree elegant, and in some even sublime. It is also free 
 from those endless digressions, which, notwithstanding the 
 wit discovered in them, are so tedious in Hudibras; the pro- 
 tuberances of which are a much larger mass than the body on 
 which they grow.* 1 The opinion is worth quoting in connexion 
 with the reputation of a poem, the history of which will at 
 least not decrease in interest hereafter. Touching the supe- 
 riority of the versification to Hudibras. probably Dwiirht's pu- 
 ritan feelings and distrust of the subject matter did not permit 
 him to enjoy all the harmonies of Butler's exquisite rhythm. 
 
 Or chang'd the style to love and dearee, 
 Till even Echo blush'd to hear ye, 
 These mournful themes no longer usurp, 
 But turn to sweeter sounds thy jewsharp. 
 
 Now from his hammock in the skies 
 Phoebus junip'd up, and rubb'd his eyes, 
 Clapp'd on his daylight round his ears, 
 Saddl'd his horse, and fix'd his spurs. 
 Night turn'd her backside ; so in turn he 
 Mounted, and set forth on his journey. 
 Our wedding folks were yet a-bed, 
 Nor dreatn'd what's doing overhead. 
 
 At leisure now for episodes, 
 We'll introduce our set of gods. 
 Sing then, my Muse, in lofty crambo, 
 How Hymen came, with lighted flambeau. 
 Juno, it seems, by sad mishaps, 
 O'er night with Jove was pulling caps; 
 For by the way she's wont to govern 
 (So Homer says) the henpeek'd sov'ieign. 
 But now stole off and left him fretting, 
 And rode post-haste to come to wedding. 
 Lucina was not there that morning ; 
 But ready stood at nine months' warning. 
 The Nymphs, of ev'ry form and size, 
 Came there before the bride could rise. 
 The Mountain JS'ymphs skipp'd down like fleas, 
 Dryads crept out from hollow trees ; 
 The Water Nymphs, from swamps and flats, 
 Came dripping on, like half-diown'd rats; 
 The birds around on sprays and thistles 
 Began to light, and tune their whistles; 
 The coek, when daylight had begun, 
 Being chorister, struck up the tune, 
 And sung an hymn in strains sonorous, 
 While ev'ry quailpipe join'd the chorus. 
 
 But we must quit this singing sport, el s e 
 Mischance may seize our sleeping mortals, 
 Who now 'gan bustle round the fabriek, 
 Finding they'd slept till after daybreak. 
 Our bridegroom, ere he did arise, 
 Rubb'd sleep's soft dews from both his eyes, 
 Look'd out to see what kind of weather, 
 And jump'd from bed as light as feather, 
 Joyful as Dick, after obtaining 
 His Master's leave to go to training. 
 Here, did not rhyming greatly harass one. 
 Were a fine place to make comparison; 
 Call up the ghosts of heroes pristine, 
 Egyptian, Trojan, Greek, Philistine', 
 Those rogues renown'd in ancient days, 
 So sweetly sung in ancient lays, 
 Set them in order by our gallant, 
 To prove him handsome, wise, and valiant. 
 He now came forth and stood before 
 His lovely goddess' chamber door, 
 Addressed her with three gentle hollo's, 
 Then read, or said, or sung as follows. 
 
 Arise my love, and come away, 
 To cheer the world, and gild the day. 
 Which fades by wanting fresh supplies 
 From the bright moonshine of thine eyes. 
 
 How beautiful art thou, my love, 
 Surpassing all the dames above; 
 Venus with thee might strive again, 
 Venus with thee would strive in vain. 
 
 in. 
 Though ev'ry muse, and ev'ry grace, 
 Conspire to deck bright Venus' lace. 
 
JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 O 1 o 
 
 Oil) 
 
 Thou'rt handsomer than all this trash, 
 By full three hundred pounds in cash. 
 
 IV 
 
 Rise then, my love, and come away, 
 To cheer the world, and gild the day, 
 Which fades by wanting fresh supplies 
 From the bright moonshine of thine eyes. 
 
 And now came forth our lovely bride, 
 Array'd in all her charms and pride. 
 Note here, lest we should be misguided, 
 Lovers and bar Is are so quiek-siglited, 
 In ev'ry charm they spy a Cupid, 
 Though other people are more stupid ; 
 So our fair bride, our lover swore, 
 Was deck'd with Cupids o'er and o'er; 
 (Thus Virgil's goddess Fame appears 
 From head to feet o'erhung with ears.) 
 
 Here, if our Muse we did not cheek first, 
 We might go ou and sing of breakfast ; 
 Of nymphs in gardens picking tulips, 
 Of maids preparing cordial juleps, 
 With otlier matters of this sort, whence 
 We come to tilings of more importance. 
 
 The sun, who never stops to bait, 
 Now riding at his usual rate, 
 Had hardly passed his midway course, 
 And spurr'd along his downward horse, 
 Our bridegroom, and his lovely virgin 
 Set forth to church with little urging. 
 A solemn show before, behind 'em 
 A lengtlie j'd cavalcade attend 'em, 
 Of nymphs and swains a mingled crew, 
 Of ev'ry shape and ev'ry line. 
 In midst of these, with solemn wag, 
 Our priest bestrode his ambling nag; 
 His dress and air right well accouter'd, 
 His hat new bi'ush'd, his wig new powder'd, 
 His formal band, of 's trade the sign, 
 Depending decent from his chin, 
 His threadbare coat, late turn'd by Snip, 
 With scripture book, and cane for whip, 
 Unnotic'd pass'd among the throng, 
 And look'd demure, and jogg'd along, 
 Yet laymen ne'er his power could equal, 
 As we s'lall show you in tile sequel. 
 For when this priest o'er man and maid 
 A set of Scripture words had said, 
 You'd find them closely link'd together 
 For life, in strange enchanted tether, 
 (Like spirits in magician's circle,) 
 Till friendly death did him or her kill ; 
 Tied up in wondrous Gordian knot 
 They neither can untie nor cut, 
 Inclos'd in cage where all may see 'em, 
 But all the world can never free 'em. 
 For once by priest in bands of wedlock 
 When tied and hamper'd by the fetlock, 
 They fight, or strive, or fly in vain, 
 And" still drag alter them their chain. 
 
 Trifles skipt o'er, our next proceeding 
 Shall give description of the wedding; 
 Where though we Pagan mix with Christian, 
 And gods a. id goddesses with priest join, 
 Truth need not stand to make objection, 
 We poets have the right of fiction. 
 And first great Hymen in the porch, 
 Like link-boy stood, with flaming torch, 
 Around, in all the vacant places, 
 Stood gods, and goddesses, and graces; 
 Yenus, and Cupid, god of love, 
 Witli all the rabble from above. 
 In midst our groom and bride appear, 
 
 With wedding guests in wing and rear. 
 
 Our priest now show'd his slight of hand, 
 
 Roll'd up his eyes, and strok'd his band, 
 
 Then join'd their hands m terms concise, 
 
 And struck the bargain in a trice, 
 
 First for the bridegroom thus began he: 
 
 Saying, " you Stephen take her Hannah," 
 
 And then, to make both parties even, 
 
 For her, " you Hannah take him Stephen ;" 
 
 Then told them to avoid temptation, 
 
 To Jo the duties of their station, 
 
 In state of sickness nurse and nourish, 
 
 In health cleave fast, and love, and cherish. 
 
 To all the parson said or meant, 
 
 Our bride and bridegroom gave consent, 
 
 He bow'd to what the priest did say, 
 
 She blush'd, and curt'sy'd, and cry'd " ay." 
 
 The bargain made, he gave his blessing. 
 
 And bade them sign and seal with kissing; . 
 
 The smack being given, neat and fresh, 
 
 He strait pronouue'd them both one flesh. 
 
 By mathematicks, 'tis well known, 
 
 It takes two halves to make up one, 
 
 And Adam, as our priests believe, 
 
 Was but an half without Miss Eve; 
 
 So every mortal man in life, 
 
 Is but an half without his wife ; 
 
 And hence, by natural enaction, 
 
 Man seeks so much his other fraction, 
 
 Which found, no tinker 'tis coufest, 
 
 Can splice or sodder, but a priest. 
 
 The rites now o'er, the priest drew near. 
 And kiss'd the bride's sinister ear ; 
 Told them he hop'd they'd make good neighbours, 
 And begg'd a blessing on their labours. 
 Him follow'd every mincing couple, 
 Licking their lips to make them supple, 
 Each got a kiss from one or t'other, 
 And wish'd they long might live together. 
 
 The wedding o'er, with joy and revelry, 
 Back to their brides return'd the cavalry: 
 And, as when armies take a town, 
 Which costs theni long to batter down, 
 That Fame may raise her voice the louder, 
 They fire whole magazines of powder, 
 And heaps of fuel lay upon fires, 
 To celebrate their joy with bonfires, 
 So now the bride had chang'd her station, 
 Surrender'd prisoner at discretion, 
 Submitting to our hero's fancies, 
 Herself with all appurtenances. 
 The well pleas'd crowd (for greatest joya 
 Are always shown with greatest noise) 
 Triumph'd by firing, shouting, ringing, 
 By dancing, drinking, wiue, and singing. 
 
 But yet our groom (time march'd so lazy) 
 Sat hitching, nestling, and uneasy, 
 Thought daylight never would be gone, 
 And called the sun a lagging drone. 
 The sun, just when 'twas time to sup, 
 Came to the sea where lie puts up. 
 Sent his last rays o'er earth to scatter, 
 And div'd down headlong into water. 
 Here is the place, if we would choose 
 To tire our reader, and our Muse, 
 To name and number every guest, 
 To tell what fare eompos'd the feast. 
 With otlier tilings that did betide. 
 As how they kiss'd and jok'd the bride, 
 How frolicksome the liquor made 'em, 
 And how the fiddler came to aid 'em. 
 And tun'd his lyre witli such a scraping, 
 It set the people all a capering. 
 
314 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 When Orpheus fiddled, at his guidance 
 
 Thus trees leap'd forth, and joiu'd in set dance. 
 
 Grim night at length in sable waggon, 
 Drawn by a sooty, bat-wing' d dragon, 
 Rode till she came right overhead, 
 And on the earth her blanket spread. 
 The moon was out upon patrole, 
 Stars danc'd as usual round the pole; 
 All nature now with drowsy head 
 Had thrown by care, and gone to bed. 
 Sleep reign'd o'er all, but wolves and rovers, 
 Owls, bats, and ghosts, and thieves, and lovers. 
 No alderman's invited guest 
 To gormandize at turtle feast, 
 "VVlien first he sees the dish brought in, 
 And 'gins to dip and grease his chin, 
 E'er feels such raptures as our lover, 
 Now all his griefs and fears were over. 
 Th' events that afterwards befel 
 Our bashful Muse would blush to tell. 
 
 THE LIBEETY POLE. — m'fINGAL. CANTO III. 
 
 Now warm with ministerial ire, 
 
 Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire, 
 
 And on his striding steps attends 
 
 His desperate clan of Tory friends. 
 
 When sudden met his wrathful eye 
 
 A pole ascending through the sky. 
 
 Which numerous throngs of whiggish race 
 
 Were raising in the market-place. 
 
 Not higher school-boys' kites aspire, 
 
 Or royal mast, or country spire ; 
 
 Like spears at Brobdignagian tilting, 
 
 Or Satan's walking-statf in Milton. 
 
 And on its top, the flag unfurl'd 
 
 Wav'd triumph o'er the gazing world, 
 
 Inscribed with inconsistent types 
 
 Of Liberty and thirteen stripes* 
 
 Beneath, the crowd without delay-, 
 
 The dedication-rites essay, 
 
 And gladly pay, in (indent fashion, 
 
 The ceremonies of libation ; 
 
 While briskly to each patriot lip 
 
 Walks eager round the inspiring flip :| 
 
 Delicious draught ? whose powers inherit 
 
 The quintessence of public spirit ; 
 
 Which whoso tastes, perceives his mind 
 
 To nobler politics refined ; 
 
 Or roused to martial controversy, 
 
 As from transforming cups of Circe ; 
 
 Or warm'd with Homer's nectnr'd liquor, 
 
 That fill'd the veins of gods with ichor. 
 
 At hand for new supplies in store, 
 
 The tavern opes its friendly door. 
 
 Whence to and fro the waiters run, 
 
 Like bucket-men at fires in tow-D. 
 
 Then witli three shouts that tore the sky, 
 
 'Tis consecrate to Liberty. 
 
 To guard it from th' attacks of Tories, 
 
 A grand Committee cull'd of four is ; 
 
 Who foremost on the patriot spot 
 
 Had brought the flip, and paid the shot. 
 
 By this, M'Finoal with his train 
 Advanced upon th' adjacent plain, 
 And full with loyalty possest, 
 Pour'd forth the zeal, that fired his breast. 
 
 ?^ p> The notes to this canto a-e from the author's edition. 
 Those marked London Ldition aie from the filth English edi- 
 tion of London. 1792. 
 
 * The American Flag. It would doubtless be wronir to 
 imagine that the stripes bear any allusion to the slave trade. 
 
 tFIip, a liquor composed of beer, rum, and sugar; the com- 
 mon treat at that time in the country towns of Kew Eng- 
 land. 
 
 " What mad-brain'd rebel gave commission, 
 To raise this May-pole of sedition ? 
 Like Babel, rear'd by bawling throngs, 
 With like confusion too of tongues, 
 To point at heaven and summon down 
 The thunders of the British crown? 
 Say, will this paltry Pole secure 
 Your forfeit heads from Gage's power? 
 Attack'd by heroes brave and crafty, 
 Is this to stand your ark of safety ; 
 Or driven by Scottish laird and laddie, 
 Think ye to rest beneath its shadow? 
 When bombs, like fiery serpents, fly, 
 And balls rush hissing through the sky, 
 Will this vile Pole, devote to freedom, 
 Save like the Jewish pole in Edom : 
 Or like the brazen snake of Moses, 
 Cure your erackt skulls and batter'd noses? 
 
 " Ye dupes to every factious rogue 
 And tavern-prating demagogue, 
 Whose tongue but rings, with sound more full, 
 On th' empty drumhead of his scull ; 
 Behold you not what noisy fools 
 Use you, worse simpletons, for tools? 
 For Liberty, in your own by-sense, 
 Is but for crimes a patent license, 
 To break of law th' Egyptian yoke, 
 And throw the world in common stock ; 
 Reduce all grievances and ills 
 To Magna Charta of your wills ; 
 Establish cheats and frauds and nonsense, 
 Framed to the model of your conscience; 
 Cry justice down, as out of fashion, 
 And fix its scale of depreciation ;* 
 Defy all creditors to trouble ye, 
 And keep new years of Jewish jubilee ; 
 Drive judges out,f like Aaron's calves, 
 By jurisdiction of white staves, 
 And make the bar and bench and steeple 
 Submit t' our Sovereign Lord, The People; 
 By plunder rise to power and glory, 
 And brand all property, as Tory ; 
 Expose all wares to lawful seizures 
 By mobbers or monopolizers; 
 Break heads and windows and the peace, 
 For your own interest and increase ; 
 Dispute and pray and fight and groan 
 For public good, and mean your own; 
 Prevent the law by fierce attacks 
 From quitting scores upon your backs ; 
 Lay your old dread, the gallows, low, 
 And seize the stocks, your ancient foe, 
 And turn them to convenient engines 
 To wreak your patriotic vergeai.ee: 
 While all, your rights who understand, 
 Confess them in their owner's hand; 
 And when by clamours and confusions, 
 Your freedom's grown a public nuisance, 
 Cry " Liberty," with powerful yearning, 
 As he does " Fire !" whose house is burning ; 
 Though he already has much more 
 Than he can find occasion for. 
 While every clown, that tills the plains, 
 Though bankrupt in estate and brains, 
 By this new light trausfonn'd to traitor, 
 Forsakes his plough to turn dictator. 
 Starts an haranguing chief of Whigs 
 
 * Alluding to the depreciation of the Continental paper mo- 
 ney. Congress finally ascertained the course of its declension 
 at different periods, by what was called A Scale of Deprecia- 
 tion. 
 
 t On the commencement of the war. the courts of justice 
 were everywhere shut up. In some instances, the judges were 
 forced to retire by the people, who assembled in multitudes, 
 armed with white staves. 
 
JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 315 
 
 And drags you by the ears, like pigs. 
 
 All bluster, arm'd with factious licence, 
 
 New born at once to politicians. 
 
 Each leather-aprou'd dunce, grown wise, 
 
 Presents his forward face t' advise, 
 
 And tatter'd legislators meet, 
 
 From every workshop through the street. 
 
 His goose the tailor finds new use in, 
 
 To patch and turn the Constitution ; 
 
 The blacksmith comes with sledge and grate 
 
 To iron-bind the wheels of state ; 
 
 The quack forbears his patients' souse 
 
 To purge the Council and the House ; 
 
 The tinker quits his moulds and doxies, 
 
 To cast assembly-men and proxies. 
 
 From dunghills deep of blackest hue, 
 
 Your dirt-bred patriots spring to view, 
 
 To wealth and power and honors rise, 
 
 Like new-wing'd maggots changed to flies, 
 
 And fluttering round in high parade, 
 
 Strut in the robe, or gay cockade. 
 
 See Arnold quits, for ways more certain, 
 
 His bankrupt-perj'riesfor his fortune, 
 
 Brews rum no longer in his store, 
 
 Jockey and skipper*iow no more, 
 
 ******* 
 And cleansed by patriotism from shame 
 Grows general of the foremost name. 
 For in this ferment of the stream 
 The dregs have work'd up to the brim. 
 And by the rule of topsy-turvies, 
 The scum stands foaming on the surface. 
 You've caused your pyramid t' ascend, 
 And set it on the little end. 
 Like Hudibras, your empire's made, 
 Whose crupper had o'ertopp'd his head. 
 You've push'd and turn'd the whole world up- 
 Side down, and got yourselves at top, 
 While all the great ones of your state 
 Are erush'd beneath the popular weight ; 
 Nor can you boast, this present hour, 
 The shadow of the form of power. 
 For what's y T our Congress* or its end? 
 A power, t' advise and recommend ; 
 To call forth troops, adjust your quotas — 
 And yet no soul is bound to notice ; 
 To pawn your faith to th' utmost limit, 
 But cannot bind you to redeem it ; 
 And when in want no more in them lies, 
 Than begging from your State- Assemblies ; 
 Can utter oracles of dread, 
 Like friar Bacon's brazen head, 
 But when a faction dares dispute 'em, 
 Has ne'er an arm to execute 'em: 
 As tho' you chose supreme dictators, 
 And put them under conservators. 
 You've but pursued the self-same way 
 With Shakespeare's Trine'lo-f- in the play; 
 "You shall be Viceroys here, 'tis true, 
 " But we'll be Viceroys over you." 
 What wild confusion hence must ensue? 
 Tho' common danger yet cements you : 
 So some wreek'd vessel, all in shatters, 
 Is held up by surrounding waters, 
 But stranded, when the pressure ceases, 
 Falls by its rottenness to pieces. 
 
 * The author here, in a true strain of patriotic censure, 
 pointed out the principal defects in the first federal constitution 
 of the United States: all which have been since removed in 
 the new Constitution, estahlished in the year 17S9. So that 
 the prophecy below, You'll ne'er have seme enouf/h to mend 
 ft, must he ranked among the other sage blunders of Ids second- 
 sighted hero. Land. Edit, 
 
 f This political plan of Trinoulo in the Tempest, may be 
 found in the old folio edition of Shakspenre. It lias since been 
 expunged by some of his wise commentators. 
 
 And fall it must : if wars were ended, 
 
 You'll ne'er have sense enough to mend it: 
 
 But creeping on, by low intrigues, 
 
 Like vermin of a thousand legs,* 
 
 'Twill rind as short a life assign'd, 
 
 As all things else of reptile kind. 
 
 Your Commonwealth's a common harlot, 
 
 The property of every varlet; 
 
 Which now in taste, and full employ, 
 
 All sorts admire, as all enjoy : 
 
 But soon a batter'd strumpet grown, 
 
 You'll curse and drum her out of towu. 
 
 Such is the government you chose ; 
 
 For this you bade the world be foes; 
 
 For this, so niark'd for dissolution, 
 
 You scorn the British Constitution, 
 
 That constitution form'd by sages, 
 
 The wonder of all modern ages ; 
 
 Which owns no failure in reality, 
 
 Except corruption and venality ; 
 
 And merely proves the adage just, 
 
 That best things spoil'd corrupt to worst: 
 
 So man supreme m earthly station, 
 
 And mighty lord of this creation, 
 
 When once his corse is dead as herring, 
 
 Becomes the most offensive carrion, 
 
 And sooner breeds the plague, 'tis found, 
 
 Than all beasts rotting on the ground. 
 
 Yet with republics to dismay us, 
 
 You've call'd up Anarchy from chaos, 
 
 With all the followers of her school, 
 
 Uproar and Rage and wild Misrule : 
 
 For whom this rout of Whigs distracted, 
 
 And ravings dire of every erack'd head ; 
 
 These new-cast legislative engines 
 
 Of County-meetings and Conventions : 
 
 Committees vile of correspondence, 
 
 And mobs, whose tricks have almost undone 's : 
 
 While reason fails to check your course, 
 
 And Loyalty's kick'd out of doors, 
 
 And folly, like inviting landlord, 
 
 Hoists on your poles her royal standard ; 
 
 While the king's friends, in doleful dumps, 
 
 Have worn their courage to the stumps, 
 
 And leaving George in sad disaster, 
 
 Most sinfully deny their master. 
 
 What furies raged when you, in sea, 
 
 In shape of Indians, drown'd the tea:-)- 
 
 When your gay sparks, fatigued to watch it, 
 
 Assumed the moggison and hatchet, 
 
 With wampum'd blankets hid their laces 
 
 And like their sweethearts, primed]: their faces : 
 
 While not a red-coat dared oppose, 
 
 And scarce a Tory show'd his nose ; 
 
 While Hutchinson, § for sure retreat, 
 
 * Millepedes. 
 
 t The cargo of tea sent to Boston, after being guarded for 
 twenty nights, by voluntary parties of the Whigs, to prevent 
 its being clandestinely brought ashore, was thiown into the 
 sea, by a party of about two hundred young men, dressed, 
 armed, and painted like Indians: but many a ruffled shirt and 
 laced vest appeared under their blankets. 
 J Primed, i. e. painted. 
 
 § When the leading Whirrs in Boston found it impossible to 
 procure tlve Tea to be sent back, they secretly resolved on its 
 destruction, and prepared all the necessary means. To cover 
 the design, a meeting of the people of the' whole County was 
 convened on the day appointed, and spent their time in ;rrave 
 consultation on the question, what should be done to prevent 
 its being landed and sold. The arrival of the Indians put an 
 end to the debate, at the moment when one of the foremost of 
 the whig-orators was declaiming against all violent measures. 
 Hutchinson was alarmed at the meeting, and retired privately 
 in the morning, to bis country-seat at Milton. Whether from 
 mistake or design, information was sent to him that the mob 
 was coming to pull down ins house. Heescapedin the utmost 
 haste across the fields. The story of the day was, that the 
 alarm was given, at the time when he sat half-shaved uuder 
 the hands of his barber. 
 
316 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Manceuvred to his country seat, 
 And thence affrighted, in the suds, 
 Stole off bareheaded through the woods. 
 
 " Have you not roused your mobs to join, 
 And make Mandamus-men resign, 
 Call'd forth each duffil-drest curmudgeon, 
 With dirty trowsers and white bludgeon, 
 Forced all our Councils through the land, 
 To yield their necks at your command ; 
 While paleness marks their late disgraces, 
 Through all their rueful lej gth of faces? 
 
 " Have you not caused as woeful work 
 In our good city of New York, 
 When all the rabble, well cockaded, 
 In triumph through the streets paraded, 
 And mobb'd the Tories, scared their spouses, 
 And ransack'd all the custom-houses ;* 
 Made such a tumult, bluster, jarring, 
 That mid the clash of tempests waning, 
 Smith'sf weather-cock, in veers forlorn, 
 Could hardly tell which way to turn? 
 Burn'd effigies of higher powers, 
 Contrived in planetary hours; 
 As witches with clay-images 
 Destroy or torture whom they please: 
 Till fired with rage, th' ungrateful club 
 Spared not your best friend Beelzebub, 
 O'erlook'd his favors, and forgot 
 The reverence due his cloven foot, 
 And in the selfsame furnace frying, 
 Stew'd him, and Korth and Bute and Tryon?| 
 Did you not, in as vile and shallow way, 
 Flight our poor Pliiladelphhin, Galloway, 
 Your Congress, wdien the loyal ribald 
 Belied, berated and bescribbled? 
 What ropes and halters did you send, 
 Terrific emblems of his end, 
 Till, least he'd hang in more than effigy, 
 Fled in a fog the trembling refugee ? 
 Now rising in progression fatal, 
 Have you not ventured to give battle ? 
 When Treason chaced our heroes troubled, 
 With rusty gun, 8 and leathern doublet ; 
 Turn'd all stone-walls and groves and bushes, 
 To batteries arm'd with blunderbusses; 
 And with deep wounds, that fate portend, 
 Gaul'd many a Briton's latter end; 
 Drove them to Boston, as in jail, 
 Confincl without mainprise or bail. 
 Were not these deeds enough betimes, 
 To heap the measure of your crimes : 
 But in this loyal town and dwelling, 
 You raise these ensigns of rebellion ? 
 'Tis done ! fair Mercy shuts her door ; 
 And Vengeance now shall sleep no more. 
 Rise then, my friends, in terror rise ; 
 And sweep this scandal from the skies. 
 You'll see their Dagon, though well jointed 
 Will shrink before the Lord's anointed ; II 
 
 * The custom-house was broken open at New- York, and all 
 public monies seized. 
 
 T William Smith, an eminent law)-er in New York. He at 
 first opposed the claims of Britain, but after wavering some 
 time, at last joined our enemy. He has since been Chief Justice 
 in Canada. 
 
 X Tryon was Governor of New York and a British General 
 during the war. He had the glory of destroying the towns of 
 Fairfield and Norwalk. Burnings in effigy were frequently 
 the amusements of the mob at that period, and in imitation 
 of the former custom of the English in burning annually the 
 Pope, the Devil and the Pretender, Beelzebub, with his usual 
 figure and accoutrements, was always joio'd in the conflagra- 
 tion with the other obnoxious characters. 
 
 § At the battle of Lexington. 
 
 J The Tory clergy always styled the King, the Lord's 
 Anointed. The language of Cromwell's and Charles's days 
 was yet frequent in New England, 
 
 And like old Jericho's proud wall, 
 Before our ram's horns prostrate fall." 
 
 This said, our 'Squire, yet uudismay'J, 
 Call'd forth the Constable to aid, 
 And bade him read, in nearer station, 
 The Riot-act and Proclamation. 
 He swift, advancing to the ring, 
 Began, " Our Sovereign Lord, the King" — ■ 
 When thousand clam'rous tongues he heaia, 
 And clubs aud stones assail his ears. 
 To fly was vain ; to fight was idle ; 
 By foes encompass'd in the middle, 
 His hope, in stratagems, he found, 
 And fell right craftily to ground ; 
 Then crept to seek an hiding place, 
 'Twas all he could, beneath a brace ; 
 Where soon the conq'ring crew espied him, 
 And where he lurk'd, they caught and tied him. 
 
 At once with resolution fatal, 
 Both Whigs and Tories rueh'd to battle. 
 Instead of weapons, either band 
 Seized on such arms as came to hand. 
 And as famed Ovid* paints th' adventures 
 Of wrangling Lapiths and Centaurs, 
 Who at their feast, by Bat*hus led, 
 Threw bottles at each other's head ; 
 And these arms failing in their scuffles, 
 Attack'd with andirons, tongs and shovels ; 
 So clubs and billets, staves and stones 
 Met fierce, encountering every sconce, 
 And cover'd o'er with knobs and pains 
 Each void receptacle for brains ; 
 Their clamours rend the skies around, 
 The hills rebellow to the sound; 
 And many a groan increas'd the din 
 From batter'd nose and broken shin 
 M'Fingal, rising at the word, 
 Drew forth his old militia-sword; 
 Thrice cried " King George," as erst in distress, 
 Knights of romance invoked a mistress ; 
 And brandishing the blade in air, 
 Struck terror through th' opposing war. 
 The Whigs, unsafe within the wind 
 Of such commotion, shrunk behind. 
 With whirling steel around address'd, 
 Fierce through their thickest throng he press'd 
 (Who roll'd on either side in arch, 
 Like Red Sea waves in Israel's march) 
 And like a meteor rushing through, 
 Struck on their Pole a vengeful blow. 
 Around, the Whigs, of clubs and stones 
 Discharged whole vollies, in platoons, 
 That o'er in whistling fury fly ; 
 But not a foe dares venture nigh. 
 And now perhaps with glory crown'd 
 Our 'Squire had fell'd the pole to ground, 
 Had not some Pow'r, a whig at heart, 
 Descended down and took their part ;\ 
 (Whether 'twere Pallas, Mars or Ins, 
 'Tis scarce worth while to make inquiries) 
 Who at the nick of time alarming, 
 Assum'd the solemn form of Chairman, 
 Address'd a Whig, in every scene 
 The stoutest wrestler on the green, 
 And pointed where the spade was found. 
 Late used to set their pole in ground, 
 And urged, with equal arms and might, 
 To dare our 'Squire to single fight. 
 The Whig thus arm'd, untaught to yield, 
 
 * See Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 12th. 
 
 t The learned reader will readily observe the allusions In 
 this scene, to the single combats of Paris and Menelaus in Ho- 
 mer, jEneas and Turuus in Virgil, and Michael and Satan ia 
 Milton, 
 
JOHN TKUMBUIX. 
 
 317 
 
 Advanced tremendous to the field : 
 Nor did M'Fingal shun the foe, 
 But stood to brave the desp'rate blow ; 
 While all the party gazed, suspended 
 To see the deadly combat ended ; 
 Aud Jove* in equal balance weigh'd 
 The sword against the brandish'd spade, 
 He weigh'd : but lighter than a dream, 
 The sword flew up and kick'd the beam. 
 Our 'Squire on tiptoe rising fail- 
 Lifts high a noble stroke in air, 
 Which hung not, but like dreadful engines, 
 Descended on his foe in vengeance. 
 But ah ! in danger, with dishonor 
 The sword perfidious fails its owner; 
 That sword, which oft had stood its ground, 
 By huge trainbands encircled round; 
 And on the bench, with blade right loyal, 
 Had won the day at many a trial, f 
 Of stones and clubs had braved th' alarms, 
 Shrunk from these new Vulcaniau arms.t. 
 The spade so temper'd from the sledge, 
 Nor keen nor solid harm'd its edge, 
 Now met it, from his arm of might, 
 Descending with steep force to smite; 
 The blade snapp'd short — -aud from his hand, 
 With rust embrowu'd the glittering sand. 
 Swift turn'd M'Fixqal at the view, 
 And call'd to aid th' attendant crew, 
 In vain ; the Tories all had run, 
 When scarce the fight was well begun: 
 Their setting wigs lie saw decreas'd 
 Far in th' horizon tow'rd the west- 
 Amazed he view'd the shameful sight, 
 And saw no refuge, but in flight : 
 But age unwieldy check'd his pace, 
 Though fear had wing'd his flying race ; 
 For not a trifling prize at stake; 
 No less than great M'Fingal's back.§ 
 With legs and arms he work'd his course, 
 Like rider that outgoes his horse, 
 And labor'd hard to get away, as 
 Old Satan] struggling on through chaos; 
 'Till looking back, he spied in rear 
 The spade-arm'd chief advanced too near : 
 Then stopp'd and seiz'd a stone that lay 
 An ancient landmark near the way; 
 Nor shall we as old bards have done, 
 Affirm it weigh'd an hundred ton ;■([ 
 But such a stone, as at a shift 
 A modern might suffice to lift, 
 Since men, to credit their enigmas, 
 Are dwindled down to dwarfs and pigmies, 
 And giants exiled with their cronies 
 To Brobdignags and Patagonias. 
 But while our Hero turn'd him round, 
 And tugg'd to raise it from the ground, 
 The fatal spade discharged a blow 
 Tremendous on his rear below : 
 
 * Jupiter ipse duas ffiquato examine lances 
 Sustinet & fata impouit diversa daorum, 
 Quern damnet labor, &c. sEneid, xii. 
 
 t It was the fashion in New-England at that time forjudges 
 to wear swords on the bench. 
 
 X Postquam arma Dei ad Vulcania ventum est, 
 
 Mortalis macro, glacies ecu futilis, icta 
 ^Dissiluit; fulva resplendent fragmina arena. Virgil. 
 
 The sword 
 
 "Was given him temper'd so, that neither keen 
 Nor solid might resist that edge; it met 
 The sword of Satan with steep force to smite 
 Descending and in half cut sheer. MiUon. 
 
 § Nee onim levia aut ludicra petuntur 
 
 Prffimia, sed Tumi de vita et sanguine certant. Virgil. 
 ! In Milton. 
 ^ This thought is taken from Juvenal, Satire 13. 
 
 His bent knee fail'd,* and void of strength 
 
 Stretch'd on the ground his manly length. 
 
 Like ancient oak o'erturu'd, he lay, 
 
 Or tower to tempests fall'n a prey, 
 
 Or mountain sunk with all his pines, 
 
 Or flow'r the plow to dust consigns, 
 
 And more things else — but all men know 'em, 
 
 If slightly versed in epic poem. 
 
 At once the crew, at this dread crisis, 
 
 Fall on, and bind him, ere he rises; 
 
 And with loud shouts and joyful soul, 
 
 Conduct him prisoner to the pole. 
 
 When now the mob in lucky hour 
 
 Had got their eu'mies in their power, 
 
 They first proceed, by grave command, 
 
 To take the Constable in hand. 
 
 Then from the pole's sublimest top 
 
 The active crew let down the rope, 
 
 At once its other end in haste bind, 
 
 And make it fast upon his waistband; 
 
 Till like the earth, as stretch'd on tenter, 
 
 He hung self-balanced on his centre. f 
 
 Then upwards, all hands hoisting sail, 
 
 They swung him, like a keg of ale, 
 
 Till to the pinnacle in height 
 
 He vaulted, like balloon or kite. 
 
 As Socratest. of old at first did 
 
 To aid philosophy get hoisted, 
 
 And found his thoughts flow strangely clear, 
 
 Swung in a basket in mid air; 
 
 Our culprit thus, in purer sky, 
 
 With like advantage raised his eye, 
 
 And looking forth in prospect wide, 
 
 His Tory errors clearly spied, 
 
 And from his elevated station, 
 
 Witli bawling voice began addressing. 
 
 " Good gentlemen and friends and kin, 
 For heaven's sake hear, if not for mine 1 
 I here renounce the Pope, the Turks, 
 The King, the Devil, aud all their works; 
 Ami will, set me but once at ease. 
 Turn Whig or Christian, what you please; 
 And always mind your rules so justly, 
 Should I live long as old Jlethus'lah," 
 I'll never join in British rage, 
 Nor help Lord North, nor Gen'ral Gage ; 
 Nor lift my gun in future fights, 
 Nor take away your Charter-rights ; 
 Nor overcome your new-raised levies, 
 Destroy your towns, nor burn your navies ; 
 Nor cut your poles down while I've breath, 
 Though raised more thick than hatchel-teeth ; 
 But leave King George and all his elves 
 To do their conq'ring work themselves." 
 
 This said, they lower'd him down in state, 
 Spread at all points, like falling cat ; 
 But took a vote first on the question, 
 That they'd accept this full confession, 
 And to their fellowship and favor. 
 Restore him on his good behaviour. 
 
 Not so our 'Squire submits to rule, 
 But stood, heroic as a mule. 
 " You'll find it all in vain, quoth he, 
 To play your rebel tricks on me. 
 All punishments, the world can render, 
 Serve only to provoke th' offender ; 
 The will gains strength from treatment horrid. 
 As hides grow harder when they're curried. 
 No man e'er felt the halter draw, 
 
 * Genua labant- 
 
 -incidit ictus. 
 
 u,.,, nn IL1UJIII IlieiUlb 11.KIS. 
 
 Ingens ad terrain duplicato popllte Turuus. Virgil. 
 t And earth self-balanced on her centre hung. MiUon. 
 X In Aristophnnes's Comedy of the Clouds, Socrates is repre- 
 sented as hoisted iu a basket to aid contemplation. 
 
318 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 With good opinion of the law ; 
 
 Or held in method orthodox 
 
 His love of justice, in the stocks: 
 
 Or fiiil'd to lose by sheriff's shears 
 
 At once his loyalty and ears. 
 
 Have you made Murray* look less big, 
 
 Or smoked old Williams* to a Whig? 
 
 Did our niobb'd Ol'verf quit his station, 
 
 Or heed his vows of resignation? 
 
 Has Rivington,J in dread of stripes, 
 
 Ceased lying since you stole his types? 
 
 And can you think my faith will alter, 
 
 By tarring, whipping, or the halter? 
 
 I'll stand the worst ; for recompense 
 
 I trust King George and Providence. 
 
 And when with conquest gain'd I come, 
 
 Array'd in law and terror home, 
 
 Ye'll rue this inauspicious morn, 
 
 And curse the day, when ye were born, 
 
 In Job's high style of imprecations, 
 
 With all his plagues, without his patienee." 
 
 Meanwhile beside the pole, the guard 
 A Bench of Justice had prepared, § 
 Where sitting round in awful sort 
 The grand Committee hold their Court ; 
 While all the crew, in silent awe, 
 Wait from their lips the lore of law. 
 Few moments with deliberation 
 They hold the solemn consultation ; 
 When soon in judgment all agree, 
 And Cleric proclaims the dread decree ; 
 "That 'Squire M'Fingal having grown 
 The vilest Tory in the town, 
 And now in full examination 
 Convicted by his own confession, 
 Finding no tokens of repentance, 
 This Court proceeds to render sentence: 
 That first the Hob a slip-knot single 
 Tie round the neck of said M'Fingal, 
 And in due form do tar him next, 
 And feather, as the law directs ; 
 Then through the town attendant ride him 
 In cart with Constable beside him, 
 And having held him up to shame, 
 Bring to the pole, from whence he came;" 
 
 Forthwith the crowd proceed to deck 
 W T ith halter'd noose M'Fingal's neck, 
 While he in peril of his soul 
 Stood tied half-hanging to the pole; 
 Then lifting high the ponderous jar, 
 Pour'd o'er his head the smoaking tar. 
 With less profusion once was spread 
 Oil on the Jewish monarch's head, 
 That down his beard and vestments ran, 
 And eover'd all his outward man. 
 As when (so ClaudianJ sings) the Gods 
 And earth-born Giants fell at odds, 
 The stout Enceladus in malice 
 Tore mountains up to throw at Pallas ; 
 And while he held them o'er his head, 
 The river, from their fountains fed, 
 Pour'd down his back its copious tide, 
 
 * Members of the Mandamus Council in Massachusetts. 
 The operation of smoking Tories was thus performed. The 
 victim was confined in a close room before a large fire of green 
 wood, and a cover applied to the top of the chimney. 
 
 t Thomas Oliver, Esq. Lieut. Governor of Massachusetts. 
 He was surrounded at his seat in the country and intimidated 
 by the mob into the signing of his resignation. 
 
 t Kivington was a tory Printer in New York. Just before 
 the commencement of the war. a party from New Haven at- 
 tacked his press, and carried otf or destroyed the types. 
 
 § An imitation of legal forms was universally practised by 
 the mobs in New-England, in the trial and condemnation of 
 Tories. This marks a curious trait of nutional character. 
 
 '; Claudian's Gigantomachia, 
 
 And wore its channels in his hide : 
 
 So from the high-raised urn the torrents 
 
 Spread down his side their various currents : 
 
 His flowing wig, as next the brim, 
 
 First met and drank the sable stream ; 
 
 Adown his visage stern and grave 
 
 Roll'd and adhered the viscid wave; 
 
 With arms depending as he stood, 
 
 Each cuff capacious holds the flood; 
 
 From nose and chin's remotest end, 
 
 The tarry icicles descend ; 
 
 Till all o'erspread, with colors gay, 
 
 He glitter'd to the western ray, 
 
 Like sleet-bound trees in wintry skies, 
 
 Or Lapland idol carved in ice. 
 
 And now the feather-bag displayed 
 
 Is waved in triumph o'er his head, 
 
 And clouds him o'er with feathers missive, 
 
 And down, upon the tar, adhesive: 
 
 Not Maia's* son, with wings for ears, 
 
 Such plumage round his visage wears; 
 
 Nor Milton's six-wing'df angel gathers 
 
 Such superfluity of feathers. 
 
 Now all complete appears our 'Squire, 
 
 Like Gorgon or Chimsera dire ; 
 
 Kor more could boast on Plato's^ plan 
 
 To rank among the race of man, 
 
 Or prove his claim to human nature, 
 
 As a two-legg'd, unfeather'd creature. 
 
 Then on the fatal cart, in state 
 They raised our grand Duumvirate. 
 And as at Rome§ a like committee, 
 Who found an owl within their city, 
 With solemn rites and grave processions 
 At every shrine perform'd lustrations ; 
 And least infection might take place 
 From such grim fowl with feather'd face, 
 All Rome attends him through the street 
 In triumph to his country seat: 
 With like devotion all the choir 
 Paraded round our awful 'Squire ; 
 In front the martial music comes 
 Of horns and fiddles, fifes and drum9, 
 With jingling sound of carriage bells, 
 And treble creak of rusted wheels. 
 Behind, the crowd, in lengthen'd row 
 With proud procession, closed the show. 
 And at fit periods every throat 
 Combined in universal shout ; 
 And hail'd great Liberty in chorus, 
 Or bawl'd " confusion to the Tories." 
 Not louder storm the welkin braves 
 From clamors of conflicting waves ; 
 Less dire in Lybian wilds the noise 
 When rav'ning lions lift their voice; 
 Or triumphs at town-meetings made, 
 On passing votes to regulate trade.] 
 
 Thus having borne them round the town, 
 Last at the pole they set them down ; 
 And to the tavern take their way 
 To end in mirth the festal day. 
 
 And now the Mob, dispersed and gone, 
 Left 'Squire and Constable alone. 
 The constable with rueful face 
 Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace ; 
 And fast beside him, cheek by jowl, 
 
 * Mercury, described by the Poets with wings on his head 
 and feet. 
 
 t And angel wing'd — six wings he wore. — Milton. 
 
 % Alluding to Plato's famous definition of Man, Animal 
 Mpef> i/trtplumc — a two-legged animal without feathers. 
 
 § Livy's History. 
 
 \ Such votes were frequently passed at town-meetings, with 
 the view to prevent the augmentation of prices, and stop the 
 depreciation of the paper money. 
 
LEMUEL HOPKINS. 
 
 319 
 
 Stuck 'Squire M'Fmgal 'gainst the pole, 
 
 Glued by the tar t' his rear applied, 
 
 Like barnacle on vessel's side. 
 
 But though his body lack'd physician, 
 
 His spirit was in worse condition. 
 
 He found his fears of whips and ropes 
 
 By many a drachm outweigh'd his hopes. 
 
 As men in jail without mainprize 
 
 View everything with other eyes, 
 
 And all goes wrong in church and state, 
 
 Seen through perspective of the grate : 
 
 So now M'Finoal's Second-sight 
 
 Beheld all things m gloomier light; 
 
 His visual nerve, well purged with tar, 
 
 Saw all the coming scenes of war. 
 
 As his prophetic soul grew stronger, 
 
 He found he could hold in no longer. 
 
 First from the pole, as fierce lie shook, 
 
 His wig from pitchy durance broke, 
 
 His mouth unglued, his feathers flutter'd, 
 
 His tarr'd skirts crack'd, and thus he uttered. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Constable, in vain 
 We strive 'gainst wind and tide and rain! 
 Behold my doom ! this feathery omen 
 Portends what dismal times are coming. 
 Now future scenes, before my eyes, 
 And second-sighted forms arise. 
 I hear a voice,* that calls away, 
 And cries ' The Whigs will win the day.' 
 Mybeck'ning Genius gives command, 
 And bids me fly the fatal land ; 
 Where changing name and constitution, 
 Rebellion turns to Revolution, 
 While Loyalty, oppress'd, in tears, 
 Stands trembling for its neck and ears. 
 
 " Go, summon all our brethren, greeting, 
 To muster at our usual meeting ; 
 There my prophetic voice shall warn 'em 
 Of all things future that concern 'em, 
 And scenes disclose on which, my friend, 
 Their conduct and their lives depend. 
 There 1* — but first 'tis more of use, 
 From this vile pole to set me loose; 
 Then go with cautious steps and steady, 
 While I steer home and make all ready." 
 
 LEMUEL HOPKINS. 
 
 Dr. Lemuel Hopkins, one of the Hartford poets 
 of the Revolutionary era, was born at Waterbury, 
 Connecticut, June 19, 1750. He was the son of 
 a farmer, and was well educated. Constitutional 
 ill health is said to have determined him to the 
 study of medicine. He became a practitioner at 
 Litchfield about 1776, and served for a short time 
 as a volunteer in the American army. He re- 
 moved to Hartford about 1784, where he passed 
 the remainder of his life, his death occurring on 
 the 14th April, 1801, in his fifty-first year. It is 
 a little singular that while he wrote most pun- 
 gently against quacks and quackery, his own 
 over-solicitude as to disease should have hastened 
 his deal^. He feared an attack of pulmonary 
 consumption, and to ward it off, caused himself 
 to be bled repeatedly, till the weakness induced a 
 dropsy in the chest. The sensitiveness of his 
 body probably sharpened his satirical powers, 
 which were keen enough when his pen fastened 
 upon Ethan Allen. The lines appear in the 
 
 * I hear a voice, you cannot hear, 
 That says, I must not stay— Tkkell's BaUad. 
 
 t Quos ego — sed inotos praestat coinponere fluctus. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 Litchfield collection of "American Poems," pub- 
 lished in 1793* 
 
 ON GENERAL ETHAN ALLEN. 
 
 Lo, Allen 'scaped from British jails, 
 
 His tushes broke by biting nails, 
 
 Appears in Hyperborean skies, 
 
 To tell the world the Bible lies. 
 
 See him on green hills north afar 
 
 Glow like a self-enkindled star, 
 
 Prepar'd (with mob-collecting club 
 
 Black from the forge of Belzebub, 
 
 And grim with metaphysic scowl, 
 
 With quill just plucked from wing of owl) 
 
 As rage or reason rise or sink, 
 
 To shed his blood, or shed his ink. 
 
 Behold inspired from Vermont dens, 
 
 The seer of Antichrist descends, 
 
 To feed new mobs with Hell-born manna 
 
 In Gentile lands of Susquehanna ; 
 
 And teach the Pennsylvania quaker, 
 
 High blasphemies against his maker. 
 
 Behold him move, ye staunch divines! 
 
 His tall head bustling through the pines; 
 
 All front he seems like wall of brass, . 
 
 And brays tremendous as an ass ; 
 
 One hand is clench'd to batter noses, 
 
 While t'other scrawls 'gainst Paul and Moses. 
 
 Hopkins's poetical reputation had been gained 
 by association with Humphreys, Trumbull, and 
 Barlow, in the political essays in verse which 
 
 appeared in the series of the AnarcMad and the 
 Echo. The former was written for the Hartford 
 and New Haven newspapers, and reached twen- 
 ty-four numbers. The Anarchiad is a descriptive 
 and satiric poem in the ten-syllable measure, 
 levelled at the state of political disruption pre- 
 ceding the establishment of the Federal Constitu- 
 tion. Its plan is thus described by Everest — 
 " Public curiosity had been awakened by the dis- 
 
 * This production was printed by Co 
 marked Vol. I. It contains poems by Trumbull, Dwight, 
 
 and Buel and 
 
 Barlow, Hopkins, Humphreys, llopkinson, William Living- 
 ston, Mrs. Morton, James Allen, aud others. A postscript 
 announces the intention of the editors to pursue their design, 
 and "■ should sufficient encouragement appeal', to publish a 
 second volume in the course of the next two years. Many dis- 
 appointments, the ill health of one of the editors, and other 
 circumstances, too complicated and painful to mention, have 
 contributed to render their work less perfect than their expec- 
 tations and promises." All this pai;;l'ul apoiogy over a single 
 12mo. volume at the cud of the last century. 
 
320 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 covery of ancient Indian fortifications, with their 
 singular relics: the story of the early emigration 
 of a body of Britons and Welsh to this country, 
 and of an existing tribe of their descendants in the 
 interior of the continent, was revived and circu- 
 lated : and our writers assumed that, in digging 
 among the ruins of one of these fortifications, an 
 ancient heroic poem in the English language had 
 been discovered. This was the Anarchiad, and 
 the essays were supposed extracts from it."* 
 
 A letter to Oliver Woloott of this date, on the 
 Genet times, lias a profound social and political 
 truth well expressed, and shows Hopkins a skilful 
 prose writer. "The southern democrats appear 
 in newspapers, in speeches in Congress, &c, to 
 come much nearer effecting their measures than 
 is really the case. It never was nor can be, that 
 the measures of such men should be popular in 
 New England. There is no such tiling as know- 
 ing such a people as the New Englanders, so as 
 to calculate crooked politics to their taste, with- 
 out living among them from early youth. Ha- 
 rangues, ever so well peppered with 'well-born,' 
 ' monocrats,' 'aristocrats,' 'hell of monarchy,' 
 &c. &c, are so far from really effecting anything 
 in these parts, that whenever the still thinking 
 part of the community can be brought to manifest 
 their minds on any measure of consequence, they 
 will at once drown a din of complaining politics 
 which, of itself, would seem formidable. The 
 more a man is among all sorts of people, the more 
 fully will he learn the unmeasured difference 
 there is between the sentiment of newspapers, 
 replete with local politics, and the opinions of an 
 enlightened people in the peaceable and successful 
 pursuit of wealth and happiness. I find more 
 and more, that a busy set of wrongheads can at 
 pleasure stir up for a time any sentiments they 
 please in cities, and that there is a great aptitude 
 in most men to consider cities as worlds, or at 
 least as the manufactories of sentiments for whole 
 countries, and much of this may be true in the 
 old world ; but in New England the contrary is 
 and ever will be true as long as our schools, 
 presses, and town corporations last.''t 
 
 To the Eclio he contributed only the two New 
 Year's Addresses for the Connecticut Couraut of 
 17U5 and 'G, and portions of The Political Green 
 House for the year 1798.* In these passages he 
 celebrates the arrival of Genet. 
 
 But though the French are giant sinners, 
 Yet have we not Tom Thumb beginners? 
 Which though a molish sort of mice, 
 May grow to rats like nits to lice. 
 Gnaw thro' our vessel's lower quarter. 
 And fill, and sink her in deep water. 
 See fraught with democratic lore, 
 Genet arriv'd on Charleston shore. 
 But, as was meet, first broach'd his mission, 
 To men of sans-culotte condition ; 
 Who throiig'd around with open throat'-, 
 As round old Crusoe flock'd the goats, 
 And learn'd his sermon, to his wishes, 
 As Austin taught huge shoals of fishes ; 
 Made all the antifederal presses, 
 Screech shrill hosaunas, styl'd addresses; 
 And while to Court he took his way, 
 
 « Poets of Connecticut, p. 39. 
 
 t Gibbs's Administration of Washington and Adams, ii. 105 
 
 Sung hallelujahs to Genet ; 
 
 But still our Palinurus saw, 
 
 With cool contempt this stormy flaw, 
 
 And, spite of all the Belial band, 
 
 Steer'd safe our leaky bark to land. 
 
 Like Hessian flies, imported o'er, 
 
 Clubs self-create infest our shore. 
 
 And see yon western rebel band, 
 
 A medley mix'd from ev'ry land ; 
 
 Scotch, Irish, renegadoes rude, 
 
 From Faction's dregs fermenting brew'd ; 
 
 Misguided tools of antifeds, 
 
 With clubs anarchical for your heads, 
 
 Why would ye make this cost and trouble 
 
 Yourselves of warlike flnmes the stubble? 
 
 Tire down the arm out-stretch'd to save, 
 
 And freedom's cradle make her grave ? 
 
 The fatal year of Robespierre, and the hope 
 of Poland in Kosciusko, and such home matters 
 as the mania for land speculation, Wayne's Indian 
 victory, and Washington's second appointment as 
 Commander-in-CIiief by President Adams. 
 
 Eas'd now of much incumbent weight, 
 Proceeds the business of the State, 
 Rais'd by the sounds of war's alarms, 
 Our ardent youth all fly to arms, 
 And from the work-shop and the field, 
 The active labourers seize the shield ; 
 While on the silver'd brow of age, 
 Relumes the fire of martial rage. 
 Our veteran Chiefs, whose honour'd scars 
 Are trophies still of former wars, 
 Appointed move beneath their shield, 
 To reap the ripen'd martial field, 
 Aud lo ! from Vernon's sacred hill, 
 Where peaceful spirits love to dwell — 
 Where twice retir'd from war's alarms, 
 Slept, and awoke, his conquering arms, 
 The Hero comes ! — whose Laurels green, 
 In bloom eternal shall be seen ; 
 While Gallic Ivy fades away, 
 Before the scorching eye of Day. 
 He comes ! — he comes ! to re-array 
 Your hosts, ye heroes, for th' affray ! 
 Him for your head — collect from far 
 The shield, the sword, and plume of war; 
 Indignant earth rejoicing hears, 
 Fell insult bristling up your spears, 
 And joins her busts to crush the foes, 
 Of virtue and her own repose. 
 
 Jefferson had nothing to thank Dr. Lemuel 
 Hopkins for, if the lines which follow are from 
 his pen: — 
 
 Great sire of stories past belief, 
 Historian of the Mingo chief, 
 Philosopher of Indian's hair, 
 Inventor of a rocking chair. 
 The correspondent of M.izze 
 And Banneker less black than he! 
 With joy we find you rise from coguing 
 With Judge M'Kean and "foolish Lj|gau," 
 And reeling down the factious dance, 
 Dispatch the Doctor off to France, 
 To tell the Frenchmen, to their cost, 
 They reckon'd here without their host. 
 
 Allen, who brings his characters to a religious 
 test in his "American Biographical Dictionary,'' 
 intimates that Hopkins himself at one time had 
 some sympathies in common with Jefferson. " In 
 his early life," says he, "he admired the infidel 
 philosophers of France ; in his last days he read 
 
LEMUEL HOPKINS. 
 
 321 
 
 the Bible." His personal appearance was peculiar, 
 " tall, lean, stooping, and long-limbed, with large 
 features and light eyes," says Kettell, to which 
 description Allen supplies a corresponding anec- 
 dote, connected with his medical practice. — "As 
 a physician, he was remarkable for his unceasing 
 attentions to his patients, sometimes devoting to 
 one patient whole days and nights. Once, on 
 being called to a child sick with the scarlet fever 
 in a family to which he was a stranger, he 
 entered the room without saying a word, and, 
 seeing the child loaded with bed-clothes in a 
 heated room, he seized the child in his arms, and 
 rushed out of the house, followed with cries and 
 broomsticks, for his appearance was uncouth and 
 ugly. But resting in a cool shade, he called fir 
 wine, and had the pleasure of seeing the child 
 restored to health." 
 
 There has been no separate collection of Dr. 
 Hopkins's poetry. 
 
 A PLEA FOP. TTNION A?H> TFTR COKSTITCTTON. — FT.OM THE 
 ANAECHIAD. 
 
 Ye sire? of nations, call'd in high debate. 
 From kindred realms, to save the sinking state, 
 A boundless sway on one broad base to rear — 
 My voice paternal claims your lingering ear; 
 O'er the wide clime my fostering cares extend, 
 Your guardian genius and your deathless friend. 
 
 When splendid victory oa her trophied car, 
 Swept from these shores the last remains of war, 
 Bade each glad state, that boasts Columbia's name, 
 Exult in freedom and ascend to fame. 
 To bliss unbounded stretch their ardent eyes, 
 And wealth and empire from their labor rise, 
 My raptured sons beheld the discord cease, 
 And soothed their sorrows in the songs of peace. 
 
 Shall these bright scenes, with happiest omens 
 born, 
 Fade like the fleeting visions of the morn ? 
 Shall this fair fabric from its base be hurl'd. 
 And whelm ill dust the glories of the world? 
 Will ye, who s;iw the heavens tempestuous lower, 
 Who felt the arm of irritated power, 
 Whose soils distending with the waiting flood, 
 Prepare! the firm foundations, built in blood, 
 By discord seized, will ye desert the plan? 
 The unfiaish'd Babel of the bliss of man ? 
 
 Go search the field of death, where heroes, lost 
 In graves obscure, can tell what freedom cost. 
 Tho;igh conquest smiled ; there slain amid the crowd, 
 And plung'd promiscuous with no winding shroud, 
 No friendly hand their gory wounds to lave. 
 The thousands moulder in a common grave, 
 Not so thy soa, oh Laurens! gasping lies. 
 Too daring youth, war's latest sacrifice; 
 His snow-white bosom heaves with writhing pain, 
 The purple drops his snow-white bosom stain; 
 His cheek of rose is wan, a deadly hue 
 Sits oa his face, that chills with lucid dew. — 
 There Warren, glorious with expiring breath, 
 A comely corse that smiles in ghostly death : 
 Sea Mercer bleeJ, and o'er yon wintry wall, 
 'Mil heips of slain, see great Montgomerv fall ! 
 
 Behold those veterans worn with want and care, 
 Their si.icws'stiffen'd, silver'd o'er their hair, 
 Weak in their steps of age, they move forlorn, 
 Their toils forgotten by the sons of scorn ; 
 This hateful truth still aggravates the pain. 
 In vain they conquer'd, and they bled in vain. 
 Go then, ye remnants of inglorious wars, 
 Disown your marks of merit, hide your fears, 
 Of lust, of power, of titled pride accused, 
 Steal to your graves dishouor'd and abused. 
 
 VOL. I. — 21 
 
 For see, proud faction waves her flaming brand. 
 And discord riots o'er the ungrateful land; 
 Lo, to the north a wild adventurous crew* 
 In desperate mobs the savage state renew; 
 Each felon chief his maddening thousands draws, 
 And claims bold license from the bond of laws ; 
 In other states the chosen sires of shame, 
 Stamp their vile knaveries with a legal name ; 
 In honor's seat the sons of meanness swarm, 
 And senates base, the work of mobs perform, 
 To wealth, to power the sons of union rise, 
 While foes deride you and while friends despise. 
 Stand forth, ye traitors, at your country's bar, 
 Inglorious authors of intestine war, 
 What countless mischiefs from their labors rise ! 
 Pens dipped in gall, and lips inspired with lies! 
 Ye sires of ruin, prime detested cause 
 Of bankrupt faith, annihilated laws, 
 Of selfish systems, jealous, local schemes, 
 And union'd empire lost in empty dreams: 
 Your names expanding with your growing crime, 
 Shall float disgustful down the stream of time, 
 Each future age applaud the avenging song, 
 And outraged nature vindicate the wrong. 
 
 Yes, there are men. who, touch' d with heavenly fire, 
 Beyond the confines of these climes aspire, 
 Beyond the praises of a tyrant age, 
 To live immortal in the patriot page ; 
 Who greatly dare, though warning worlds oppose, 
 To pour just vengeance on their country's foes. 
 
 And lo ! the etherial worlds assert your cause, 
 Celestial aid the voice of virtue draws ; 
 The curtains blue of yon expansion rend: 
 From opening skies heroic shades descend. 
 See, robed in light, the forms of heaven appear, 
 The warrior spirits of your friends are near; 
 Each on his steed of fire (his quiver stored 
 With shafts of vengeance) grasps his flaming sword: 
 The burning blade waves high, and dipp'd in blood, 
 Hurls plagues and death on discord's faithless brood. 
 Yet wdiat the hope? the dreams of congress fade, 
 The federal union sinks in endless shade, 
 Each feeble call, that warns the realms around, 
 Seems the faint echo of a dying sound, 
 Each requisition wafts in fleeting air, 
 And not one state regards the powerless prayer. 
 Ye wanton states, by heaven's best blessings 
 cursed, 
 Long on the lap of fostering luxury nursed, 
 What fickle frenzy raves, what visions strange. 
 Inspire }-our bosoms with the Inst of change i 
 And frames the wish to fly from fancied ill, 
 And yield your freedom to a monarch's will ? 
 Go view the lands to lawdess power a prey. 
 Where tyrants govern with unbounded sway ; 
 See the long pomp in gorgeous state display'd, 
 The tinsel'd guards, the squadron'd horse parade ; 
 See heralds gay with emblems on their vest, 
 In tissued robes tall beauteous pages drest; 
 Where moves the pageant, throng unnumber'd slaves, 
 Lords, dukes, and princes, titulary knaves 
 Confusedly shine, the purple gemm'd with stars, 
 Sceptres, and globes, and crowns, and rubie 1 cars, 
 On jyilded orbs the thundering chariots roll'd, 
 Steeds snorting fire, and champing bitts of gold, 
 Prance to the trumpet's voice — while each assumes 
 A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes. 
 High on the moving throne, and uear the van, 
 The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man ; 
 Clarions, and flutes, and drums his way prepare, 
 Ami shouting millions rend the conscious air ; 
 Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain, 
 Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain. 
 From years of darkness springs the regal line, 
 Hereditary kings by right divine ; 
 
322 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Tis theirs to riot on all nature's spoils, 
 For them "with pangs unblest the peasant toils, 
 For them the earth prolific teems with grain, 
 Theirs, the dread labors of the devious main, 
 Annual for them the wasted land renews 
 The gifts oppressive, and extorted dues. 
 For them when slaughter spreads the gory plains, 
 The life-blood gushes from a thousand veins, 
 "While the dull herd, of earth-born pomp afraid, 
 Adore the power that coward meanness made. 
 Let Poland tell what woe returning springs, 
 Where light elective yields the crown to kings ! 
 War guides the choice — each candidate abhorr'd 
 Founds his firm title on the wasting sword, 
 Wades to the throne amid the sanguine flood, 
 And dips his purple in the nation's blood. 
 
 Behold, where Venice rears her sea-girt towers, 
 O'er the vile crowd proud oligarchy lowers; 
 While each Aristocrat affects a throne, 
 Beneath a thousand kings the poor plebeians groan. 
 
 Nor less abhorr'd the certain woe that waits 
 The giddy rage of democratic states; 
 Whose popular breath, high blown in restless tide, 
 No laws can temper, and no reason guide; 
 An equal sway their mind indignant spurns, 
 To wanton change the bliss of freedom turns, 
 Led by wild demagogues the factious crowd, 
 Mean, fierce, imperious, insolent and loud, 
 Nor fame nor wealth nor power nor system draws, 
 They see no object and perceive no cause, 
 But feel by turns, in one disastrous hour, 
 Th' extremes of license and th' extremes of power. 
 
 What madness prompts, or what ill-omen'd fates, 
 Your realm to parcel into petty states ? 
 Shall lordly Hudson part contending powers? 
 And broad Potomac lave two hostile shores? 
 Must Allegany's sacred summits bear 
 The impious bulwarks of perpetual war? 
 Bis hundred streams receive your heroes slain? 
 And bear your sons inglorious to the main ? 
 Will states cement by feebler bonds allied ? 
 Or join more closely as they more divide ? 
 Will this vain scheme bid restless factious cease? 
 Check foreign wars or fix internal peace? 
 Call public credit from her grave to rise? 
 Or gain in grandeur what they lose in size? 
 In this weak realm can countless kingdoms start, 
 Strong with new force in each divided part? 
 While empire's head, divided into four, 
 Gains life by severance of diminish'd power? 
 So when the philosophic hand divides 
 The full grown polypus in genial tides, 
 Each sevcr'd part, inform'd with latent life, 
 Acquires new vigor from the friendly knife, 
 O'er peopled sands the puny insects creep, 
 Till the next wave absorbs them in the deep. 
 
 What then remains? must pilgrim freedom ily 
 From these loved regions to her native sky ? 
 When the fair fugitive the orient chased, 
 She fix'd her seat beyond the watery waste ; 
 Her docile sons (enough of power resign'd, 
 And natural rites in social leagues combined,) 
 In virtue firm, though jealous in her cause, 
 Gave senates force and energy to laws, • 
 
 From ancient habit local powers obey, 
 Yet feel no reverence for one general sway. 
 For breach of faith no keen compulsion feel, 
 And feel no interest in the federal weal. 
 But know, ye favored race, one potent head, 
 Must rule your states, and strike your foes with 
 
 dread, 
 The finance regulate, the trade control, 
 Live through the empire, and accord the whole. 
 
 Ere death invades, and night's deep curtain falls, 
 Through ruin'd realms the voice of Union calls, 
 
 Loud as the trump of heaven through darkness 
 
 roars, 
 When gyral gusts entomb Caribbean towers, 
 When nature trembles through the deeps convulsed, 
 And ocean foams from craggy cliffs repulsed, 
 On you she calls! attend the warning cry, 
 " Ye live united, or divided die." 
 
 THE HYPOCRmf6 nOPE, 
 
 Blest is the man, who from the womb 
 
 To saintship him betakes, 
 And when too soon his child shall come, 
 
 A long confession makes. 
 
 When next in Broad Chureh-alley he 
 
 Shall take his former place, 
 Relates his past iniquity, 
 
 And consequential grace ; 
 
 Declares how long by Satan vexM, 
 
 From truth he did depart, 
 And tells the time, and tells the te?. t, 
 
 That smote his flinty heart. 
 
 He stands in half-way-covenant sure ; 
 
 Full five long years or more, 
 One foot in church's pale secure, 
 
 The other out of door. 
 
 Then riper grown in gifts and grace. 
 
 With every rite complies, 
 And deeper lengthens down his face, 
 
 And higher rolls his eyes. 
 
 He tones like Pharisee sublime, 
 
 Two lengthy prayers a day, 
 The same that lie from early prime, 
 
 Has heard his father say. 
 
 Each Sunday perch'd on bench of pew, 
 
 To passing priest he bows, 
 Then loudly 'mid the quavering crew, 
 
 Attunes his vocal nose. 
 
 With awful look then rises slow, 
 
 And prayerful visage sour, 
 More fit to fright the apostate foe, 
 
 Than seek a pardoning power. 
 
 Then nodding hears the sermon next, 
 
 From priest haranguing loud, 
 And doubles down each quoted text, 
 
 From Genesis to Jude. 
 
 And when the priest holds forth address, 
 
 To old ones born nnew\ 
 With holy pride and wrinkled face, 
 
 He rises in his pew. 
 
 Good works he eareth nought about, 
 
 But faith alone will seek, 
 "While Sunday's pieties blot out, 
 
 The knaveries of the week. 
 
 He makes the poor his daily prayer, 
 
 Yet drives them from his board ; 
 And though to his own good he swear. 
 
 Through habit breaks his word. 
 
 This man advancing fresh and fair, 
 
 Shall all his race complete ; 
 And wave at last his hoary hair, 
 
 Arrived at deacon's seat. 
 
 There shall he all church honors have, 
 
 By joyous brethren given — 
 Till priest in funeral sermon grave, 
 
 Shall send him straight to heaven. 
 
 JAMES MADISON. 
 
 The name of Madison is identified with the poli- 
 tical literature of the country, beyond the share - 
 
JAMES MADISON. 
 
 323 
 
 which his official state papers must claim, by his 
 defence of the Constitution in the Federalist, and 
 his faithful history of the Debates in the great 
 Assembly which gave bounds and authority to 
 our national government. In these he will be 
 remembered by the political student in the li- 
 brary, when the eye is withdrawn from the pub- 
 lic acts of his administration. 
 
 He was born March 5 (Old Style), 1751, at the 
 house of his maternal grandmother, on the Rappa- 
 hannock river, in King George county, Virginia. 
 His home, and the residence of his parents, was 
 at Montpellier, in Orange county, in the neighbor- 
 hood of Montieello. His early studies were under 
 the charge of a Scottish teacher, Donald Robinson, 
 and of the Episcopal minister of the parish, the 
 Rev. Thomas Martin. A residence at the College 
 of William and Mary being considered unhealthy 
 for a mountaineer, he was sent to Princeton, 
 where he took his degree in 1772, and so secured 
 the respect of its president, Dr. Witherspoon, that 
 he subsequently remarked to Jefferson, that in his 
 whole career at the college he had never known 
 him say or do an indiscreet tiling* Thus early 
 were the prudence and purity of his character 
 established. He remained with Witherspoon, 
 continuing his course of reading under his direc- 
 tion beyond the college term. The two' men 
 understood each other's high qualities. Madison's 
 studies at Princeton injured his health for some 
 years. He allowed at times but three hours out 
 of the twenty-four to sleep, the rest was given 
 to his books.t On Ins return to Virginia he 
 gave some attention to law. Political life, how- 
 ever, was his vocation, lie gave the first proof 
 of his advocacy of liberty in his efforts in behalf 
 of the Baptist clergy, who fell under the penalties 
 of the existing laws against the preaching of dis- 
 senters from the established Episcopal Church. 
 In 1776 he was a member of the Convention 
 which formed the first constitution of Virginia; 
 then in the State Legislature, and member of the 
 Council of State, assisting Henry and Jefferson, 
 who were then Governors of Virginia; in the 
 Revolutionary Congress, in 1780, writing the 
 state papers to Jay in Spain, of instructions as to 
 the Right on the Mississippi, to the states on the 
 payment due the army. Again, from 1784-6, 
 in his State Legislature, distinguishing himself by 
 the liberality and integrity of his views. In 
 1787 he was a delegate to the Convention which 
 formed the Constitution, in which he bore so 
 active a part in counsel and deliberation. He 
 was unwearied in his attendance on this body : 
 and fully conscious of the vast importance of all 
 its counsels, kept with the diligence of a hired 
 
 * John Quiney Adams's Discourse on the Life of Madison. 
 
 t The writer of a Memoir in the Democratic Review, proba- 
 bly its Editor. S. D. Langtree, the publisher of the Madison 
 Papers, draws this noticeable lesson from the early and pro- 
 tracted ill-health, with the long life of Madison. "We learn.' 1 
 he says, "from good authority, that for more than sixty years 
 he suffered from organic bodily irregularity, which is men- 
 tioned only for the purpose of the encouraging reflection, how 
 loni'. how cheerful, and how useful life may he, witli tolerable 
 health, and how much enjoyment may be had, notwithstand- 
 ing bodily misfortunes, which are a constant source of uneasi- 
 ness " 
 
 reporter, ftdl and accurate reports of all its de- 
 bates. These lie prepared for publication, and 
 left as a legacy to his family and his country. 
 In the preface, which he himself wrote to the 
 manuscript, he gives this noble motive for the 
 vast labor encountered in the work : — " The curi- 
 osity I had felt during my researches into the 
 history of the most distinguished confederacies, 
 particularly those of antiquity, and the deficiency 
 I found in the means of satisfying it, more espe- 
 cially in what related to the process, the princi- 
 ples, the reasons, and the anticipations which 
 prevailed in the formation of them, determined 
 me to preserve, as far as I could, an exact ac- 
 count of what might pass in the Convention 
 whilst executing its trust, with the magnitude of 
 which I was duly impressed, as I was by the 
 gratification promised to future curiosity by an 
 authentic exhibition of the objects, the opinions, 
 and the reasonings from which the riew system 
 of government was to receive its peculiar struc- 
 ture and organization. Nor was I unaware of 
 the value of such a contribution to the fund of 
 materials for the history of a Constitution on 
 which would be staked' the happiness of a people, 
 great even in its infancy, and possibly the cause 
 of liberty throughout the world." A half cen- 
 tury afterwards, in 18i0, these Debates, with por- 
 tions of his Correspondence, were published by 
 order of Congress, at the instigation of a message 
 from General Jackson ; thirty thousand dollars 
 being paid by Government to Mrs. Madison 
 for the work. When the result of the debates 
 was brought before the country for adoption, he 
 urged their acceptance by a powerful chain of 
 argument, in clear succinct phrase, in conjunction 
 with Hamilton, in the Federalist, the labors of 
 the two being sometimes united in the same arti- 
 cle. The papers which Madison wrote, and in 
 which he bore a part, twenty-nine in number, 
 discuss the tendencies of associated governments 
 to anarchy rather than despotism, the powers 
 proposed to be vested in the Union, the relations 
 of the general with the state authorities, and the 
 separation and mutual dependence of the forces 
 of the central authority. He secured the Consti- 
 tution which he thus urged upon the people, by 
 his personal exertions in the convention of his 
 own state for its adoption. When his friend 
 Jefferson became Secretary of State, he looked 
 to Madison for counsel when Hamilton attacked 
 his views in his papers of Pacificus on Neutrality 
 with France, securing the pen of Madison in 
 reply, in the letters of Hekidius. 
 
 Becoming President, Madison filled the Secre- 
 taryship during his administration, succeeding to 
 the Presidency itself in 1809. On the comple- 
 tion of his second term he withdrew to his home 
 in Virginia, where, with the exception of a couple 
 of months while he was engaged in the revision 
 of the state constitution at Richmond, and las 
 visits to the University at Charlottesville, where 
 he succeeded Jefferson as Rector, he never after- 
 wards went beyond the limits of his county. He 
 passed his time in the retirement of his family, in 
 the pursuits of literature and the study of natural 
 history; his native mildness of character tem- 
 pered by his chronic illness, till he expired calmly, 
 June 28, 1836, at the advanced age, for a life- 
 long invalid, of eighty-five. Shortly before his 
 
32i 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 death, as if to gather up the great constitutional 
 lessons of his life, he penned these sentences of 
 advice to his countrymen : — " The advice nearest 
 to my heart and dearest to my convictions is, 
 that the Union of the States he cherished and 
 perpetuated. Let the avowed enemy to it be re- 
 garded as a Pandora with her box opened, and 
 the disguised one as the serpent, creeping with 
 deadly wiles into Paradise."* 
 
 JOHN LEDYARD. 
 
 JonN Ledtard, one of the most distinguished 
 of travellers, was born within a few hundred 
 yards of Fort Griswold, at Groton, Connecticut, 
 in 1751. He was the eldest son of a sea-captain, 
 who died at the age of thirty-five, leaving a wi- 
 dow and four children. Soon after the father's 
 death, the deed of the small family estate at Gro- 
 ton disappeared, and the property reverted to the 
 former owner, the father of the deceased. In con- 
 sequence of this, the widow repaired with her 
 children to her father's residence at Southold, 
 where she married a few years after, Dr. Moore 
 of that place. John was removed, after this event, 
 to Hartford, where he became an inmate of his 
 grandfather's family. He attended school, and at 
 first studied law ; but abandoning that profession, 
 at the age of nineteen accepted the invitation of 
 Dr. Wheelock, an intimate friend of his grand- 
 father, who died shortly before, this time, to enter 
 Dartmouth College, and determined to fit himself 
 for a missionary life among the Indians. 
 
 The college had been established but two years 
 before at Hanover — a place yet surrounded by 
 the " forest primaeval." Ledyard brought with 
 him a quantity of calico and other articles de- 
 signed for use in theatrical representations, to 
 which he seems to have been very partial. 
 A stage was fitted up, on which he performed 
 Syphax in the tragedy of Cato. College life, 
 however, even with the aid of these amusements, 
 proved too monotonous for his taste ; and at the 
 expiration of four months he disappeared, and 
 wandered among the Indians, visiting the Six Na- 
 tions, to the borders of Canada. During his ab- 
 sence of three and a half months, he acquired a 
 familiarity witli the language and habits of this 
 people which were of great service to him in his 
 future travels. He returned to college and quiet- 
 ly resumed his studies; in the depth of the follow- 
 ing winter he led a part) 7 of his fellow students 
 through an untracked route to the summit of a 
 neighboring mountain, where they passed the 
 night, returning next day. 
 
 He seems to have gradually abandoned a mis- 
 sionary life ; and after passing a few months 
 more at college, determined to depart. "With the 
 aid of some of his friends, he cut down a large 
 tree, from which they fashioned a canoe three 
 feet wide and fifty long. On its completion, it 
 was launched in the Connecticut; and Ledyard, 
 having equipped himself with a bearskin and pro- 
 visions, started to descend a river, of which he 
 knew little or nothing beyond its general course. 
 He floated along witli the stream, stopping only 
 at night, and was busily engaged in reading one 
 
 * Art. Madison. Enc. Amer. Ait. Madisnn and the Madison 
 Papers. Dem. Review, Mareh, 1S39. Benton's Thirty Years 
 in U. S. Senate, i. 078. 
 
 of the two books, the Greek Testament and Ovid, 
 he had provided himself with, when he was arous- 
 ed by the sound of the rushing water at Bellows' 
 Falls. ■ He narrowly escaped destruction, but suc- 
 ceeded in pushing his canoe to the shore, where 
 it was drawn round to the stream below by the 
 oxen of the neighbors, who naturally took an in- 
 terest in his adventurous course. He soon after 
 astonished his friends by appearing at Hartford, 
 having accomplished his dangerous voyage in safe- 
 ty. A correspondence followed with Dr. Whee- 
 lock, who was justly displeased with his pupil's 
 vagaries. Ledyard adhered to his intention of 
 studying theology; and after a consultation with 
 the neighboring clergy, went to East Hampton, 
 where he passed a month " with intense applica- 
 tion to study"* under the care of the Rev. Dr. 
 Buell, a clergyman in high repute as a scholar and 
 orator; and afterwards travelled through Long 
 Island.* He finally presented himself as a candi- 
 date for ordination, and was rejected. He was 
 disheartened for a short time, but soon after en- 
 tered on a career for which he was much better 
 fitted by nature, embarking as a sailor at New 
 London in a vessel bound to Gibraltar. He was 
 missed on arriving at that port, and on inquiry 
 being made, found in full uniform in the ranks of 
 the British garrison. On being remonstrated 
 with, he consented to return if his release could 
 be procured. This was granted by the command- 
 ing officer, and Ledyard rejoined his ship. The 
 vessel touched at Barbary for a cargo of mules, 
 and returned home by way of the West Indies 
 about a year after her departure. 
 
 His next enterprise was to visit England in quest . 
 of certain wealthy relatives. He found the fami- 
 ly name oh a carriage, and made his way to its 
 owner's residence, lie was received by a son of 
 this gentleman with some distrust, as the latter 
 had never heard of any American kinsmen. Led- 
 yard's pride was hurt, and though afterwards in- 
 vited by the father, he would not avail himself of 
 any proffered kindness. 
 
 Again disappointed, lie looked about him for 
 employment; and joined the expedition which 
 was fitting out by Captain Cook, for his third 
 voyage. He entered the marine service, and was 
 appointed by Cook a corporal. In this humble 
 situation he accompanied the celebrated expedi- 
 tion, whose movements are weil known from the 
 widespread popularity of the " Voyages" which 
 bear the name of its commander. 
 
 Ledyard passed two years in England after the 
 return of the expedition, and then returned in a 
 British man-of-war to Huntington Bay, Long 
 Island Sound. He obtained seven days' leave of 
 absence, and proceeded to Southold, where he met 
 his mother. 
 
 " She kept," says his biographer, Sparks, " a 
 boarding-house, which was at that time occupied 
 chiefly by British officers. He rode up to the 
 door, alighted, went in, and asked if he could be 
 accommodated in her house as a lodger. She re- 
 plied that, he could, and showed him a room into 
 which his baggage was conveyed. After having 
 adjusted his dress, he came out and took a seat by 
 the fire, in company with several other officers. 
 
 * Letter by Ledyard, quoted by Sparks, Life, p. 24. 
 
JOHN" LEDYARD. 
 
 325 
 
 without making himself known to his mother, or 
 entering into conversation with .any person. She 
 frequently passed and repassed through the room, 
 and her eye was observed to be attracted towards 
 him with more than usual attention. He still 
 remained silent. At last, after looking at him 
 steadily for some minutes, she deliberately put on 
 her spectacles, approached nearer to him, begging 
 his pardon for her rudeness, and telling him that 
 he so much resembled a son of hers, who had been 
 absent eight years, that she could not resist her 
 inclination to view him more closely. The scene 
 that followed may be imagined but not describ- 
 ed; for Ledyard had a tender heart, and affection 
 for his mother was among its deepest and most 
 constant emotions." 
 
 From Southold he removed to his old residence 
 with his uncle at Hartford, having taken an un- 
 ceremonious leave of the royal navy. Here he 
 prepared for the press his narrative of Cook's 
 Third Voyage,* availing himself freely of the 
 brief official account which had appeared in 
 England, in advance of the full reports. 
 
 He soon after visited Philadelphia, where ho 
 endeavored to set on foot a trading expedition 
 to the North Pacific coait of America. He had 
 touched at this region in his late expedition, and 
 become convinced of its advantages. His plan 
 was listened to with favor by Robert Morris, and 
 a ship engaged for the purpose, but obstacles 
 intervened. Morris finally lost patience, and 
 Ledyard went to Paris in the hope of there 
 accomplishing his plans. He crossed to Cadi? 
 and thence made his way to Brest, 'and by land 
 to L'Orient, where he passed the winter, the mer- 
 chants of the place promising to fit out an expedi- 
 tion in the spring. When the time came they 
 failed to do so, and Ledyard went to Paris. Here 
 he mat Jefferson, who took a great interest in his 
 project, foreseeing its ultimata importance to the 
 United States. Paul Jones also favored the 
 scheme, and a plan was arranged by winch that 
 gallant officer was to be placed in command of 
 two vessels to proceed to the coast, which at that 
 time had been visited only by Cook's expedition 
 and by the Russians, who had established a few 
 slight trading posts on the adjacent islands. The 
 Vessels were to collect furs, to be exchanged for 
 silks and teas in China, and return home by the 
 Caoe of Good Hope, Ledyard being left on the 
 Pacific to establish a trading depot, and eventually 
 to return home across the continent. The plan 
 was not attempted, and in pursuance of the same 
 idea he projected an overland journey through 
 the north of Europe and Asia to Behring's Straits.t 
 
 * Journal of Capt. Cook's last vovage. faithfully narrated 
 from the original manuscript of Mr. John Ledyard. Hartford, 
 17&3. 
 
 tin his autobiography, Jefferson speaks of Ledyard as "a 
 man of senilis, of some science, and of fearless courage and 
 enterprise." and says that after his failure to carry through his 
 scheme of a trading voyage to the North Pacific, he sug- 
 gested to him an overland journey through Siberia to Beh- 
 rings Straits, and thence across the continent to the United 
 Stat-s. He gave Ledvard a letter of introduction to La Fay- 
 ette, dated Paris, Feb. 9. 1780, in which he says:— 
 
 "He accompanied Captain Cook in his list vovage to the 
 northwestern parts of America, and rendered hifnseif nseful 
 to tint officer on some occasions bv a spirit of enterprise 
 which has distinguished his whole life. He has genius and 
 education better than the common, and a talent for useful and 
 interesting observation. I believe him to be an honest man, 
 and a man of truth. To all this he adds just as much singular- 
 ity of character, and of that particular kind too, as was neces. 
 
 After long and wearisome delays he was enabled 
 , by a subscription obtained in London by the aid 
 of Sir Joseph Banks and other friends, to start on 
 this journey. He crossed from London to Ham- 
 burgh in December, next, visited Copenhagen, 
 where he shared his remaining funds with a Ma- 
 jor Lnnghorn, a countryman, whom he endea- 
 voured to induce to join him in his Siberian tour. 
 Disappointed in this, the Major remarking, "I 
 esteem yon, but I can travel in the way I do, 
 with no man on earth,"* Ledyard started off 
 alone, and made his way round the Gulf of Bothnia 
 on foot, the state of the ice rendering it impossi- 
 ble to pass over in sledges or force- a passage in a 
 boat. He arrived at St. Petersburg seven weeks 
 after leaving Stockholm. Here lie waited for 
 some time for a passport. The Empress Catha- 
 rine was absent on her magnificent progress 
 through her dominions, and the traveller's peti- 
 tion seems never to have been presented to bot- 
 hy the French ambassador to whom it was in- 
 trusted. The document was finally obtained and 
 Ledyard departed. He travelled to Moscow, and 
 thence to Kazan, Tobolsk, and Barnaoul, a dis- 
 tance of three thousand miles, in company with a 
 Scotch physician in the employ of the Empress. 
 From thence he proceeded with the mail courier 
 to Irkutsk. Here he embarked with a Swedish 
 lieutenant on a voyage of fourteen hundred miles 
 down the river Lena to Yakutsk, their boat being 
 propelled by the current at the rate of eighty to a 
 hundred miles a day. He arrived at Yakutsk on 
 the 18th of September, where he endeavored to 
 obtain permission to push forward to Okotsk, but 
 this was refused on the plea that the season was 
 too far advanced. His journal at this period con- 
 tains the following passage : — 
 
 " What, alas, shall I do, for I am miserably pre- 
 pared for this unlocked for delay. By remaining 
 here through the winter, I cannot expect to resume 
 my march u.itil May, winch will be eight months. 
 My funds ! I have but two long frozen stages more, 
 and I shall be beyond the want, or aid of money, 
 until, emerging from the deep deserts, I gain the 
 American Atlantic States; and then, thy glowing 
 climates, Africa, explored, I will lay me down, and 
 claim my little portion of the globe I have viewed; 
 may it not be before. How many of the noble- 
 minded have been subsidiary to me, or to my enter- 
 prises ; yet that meagre demon, Poverty, lias tra- 
 velled with me hand in hand over half the globe, 
 and witnessed what — the tale I will not unfold! 
 Ye children of wealth and idleness, what a profitable 
 I commerce might be made between us. A little of 
 my toil might better brace your bodies, give spring 
 to mind and zest to enjoyment ; and a very little of 
 that wealth, which you scatter around you, would 
 put it beyond the pow r er of anything but death to 
 oppose my kindred greetings with all on earth, that 
 bear the stamp of man. This is the third time, that 
 I have been overtaken and arrested by winter ; and 
 
 Fary to make him undertake the journey he proposes. Should 
 he got safe through it. I think' he will give an interesting 
 account of what be shall have seen." 
 
 * Lanchorn seems to have had a passion for travelling in out 
 of the way parts of the world. After parting with Ledyard ho 
 wandered over Sweden, Norway, and Lapland. Accrbi, in 
 1799, found the following entry in the travellers' book at 
 Tornea, which then contained but seven names — ''Justice bids 
 me record thv hospitable fame, and testify It by my name. 
 W. Lanfrtiorn, United States, July 23. 1787.'' Acerbi says ho 
 travelled on foot from Norway to Archangel. — Sparks's Lifo of 
 Ledyard, 183. 
 
326 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 both the others, by giving time for my evil genius I 
 to rally his hosts about me, have defeated the enter- j 
 prise. Fortune, thou hast humbled me at last, for I 
 am this moment the slave of cowardly solicitude, 
 lest in the heart of this dread winter, there lurk the 
 seeds of disappointment to uiy ardent desire of gain- 
 ing the opposite continent. But t submit." 
 
 To avail himself of a companion, Captain Bil- 
 lings, employed by the Russian government on an 
 exploration of the Pacific coast, for his voyage in , 
 the spring, he returned with that gentleman to 
 Irkutsk, the journey being made on the frozen 
 surface of the river. Here on the 24-th of Febru- 
 ar}', he was arrested and immediately hurried 
 pack over the long route which lie had travelled, 
 to Moscow, where he was examined on the pre- ! 
 text that he was a French spy. He was forward- 
 ed on to the frontier of Poland, where his guards 
 took their leave with an intimation that if he 
 again set foot on Russian territory he would be 
 hanged. 
 
 He drew a small draft on his friend Sir Joseph 
 Banks, and was thus enabled to reach London, 
 where he called on Bank 1 ;, from whom he learned 
 that the "African Association," formed for the 
 exploration of that country, were desirous of 
 sending a traveller on a tour of discovery. Banks 
 gave him a letter to the secretary of the company, 
 to whom Ledyard expressed his great desire to 
 receive the proposed appointment. On being 
 asked when he would set out, he replied, " To- 
 morrow." 
 
 He was equipped in a few weeks, and for the 
 first time properly backed by friends at home and 
 provided with means, set forth. He proceeded to 
 Cairo, and was just about starting on the adven- 
 turous portion of his journey when he was at- 
 tacked by a bilious complaint, caused by exposure 
 to the sun. He took a large and, as it proved, 
 over dose of vitriolic acid to remove the disorder. 
 An antidote was administered, but without effect, 
 and he soon breathed his last, in November, 1788. 
 
 Ledyard kept a brief journal of a portion of his 
 travels. Extracts from this and from Ids letters 
 to Jefferson and others, forming with his account 
 of Cook's voyage the whole of his literary pro- 
 ductions, are given in the Life published by Jared 
 Sparks in 1S2S* 
 
 The short passage which has done most for the 
 popular reputation of Ledyard, his eulogy on 
 woman, occurs in his Siberian journal, and was 
 first published in a eulogy printed in the Transac- 
 tions of the African Society, by Mr. Beaufoy, the 
 secretary, shortly after Ledyard's death. 
 
 " I have observed among all nations, that the wo- 
 men ornament themselves more than the men ; that, 
 wherever found, they are the same kind, civil, oblig- 
 ing, humane, tender beings; that they are ever in- 
 clined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest. 
 They do not hesitate, like man, to perform a hospi- 
 table or generous action : not haughty, nor arrogant, 
 
 * An advertisement in Freneau's Time-Piece, New York, 
 March 16, 17''?, announces a contemplated publication of " The 
 Interesting Travels of John Ledyard, with a summary of his 
 Life,'' and proposes a subscription. The Lt proposals" state that 
 the work is to be printed on fine paper, "With a full length 
 portrait of the Author, in the attitude of taking leave, on 
 his departure for Africa," that it was to form a volume of from 
 four to five hundred pages, and the price to subscribers to be 
 two dollars a volume. No publisher's name is appended. 
 
 nor supercilious, but full of courtesy and fond of so- 
 ciety ; industrious, economical, ingenuous ; more 
 liable in general to err than man, but in general, also, 
 more virtuous, and performing more good actions 
 than he. I never addressed myself in the laLguage 
 of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civi- 
 lized or savage, without receiving a decent and 
 friendly answer. With man it has often been other- 
 wise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhos- 
 pitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, fiozen 
 Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled 
 Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wander- 
 ing Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, wo- 
 man has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly -so ; 
 and to add to this virtue, so worthy of the appella- 
 tion of benevolence, these actions have been per- 
 formed in so free and so kind a manner, that, if I wa» 
 dry, I drank the sweet draught, and, if hungry, ate 
 the coarse morsel, with a double relish." 
 
 WILLIAM LINN. 
 
 The grandfather of the Rev. William Linn was 
 an emigrant from Ireland, who built himself a 
 cabin near Shippensburgh, Pennsylvania, and 
 lived there in the wilderness, to the extraordinary 
 age of over one hundred V'ears. The eldest son 
 of the eldest son of this veteran was born in 1752. 
 At an early age he married the third daughter of 
 the Rev. John Blair ; he was graduated at the col- 
 lege of New Jersey in 1772, and was ordained a 
 Presbyterian minister, officiating during the Re- 
 volutionary War as a chaplain of the American 
 army. Soon after the peace he joined the Dutch 
 Reformed denomination, and became one of the 
 ministers of the Collegiate churches in the city 
 
 
 of New York. He enjoyed a high reputation as 
 a pulriit orator. Y\"ansey, an English traveller, 
 who visited New York in 1794, speaks of going 
 to hear him preach on a Sunday afternoon, as 
 one of the noteworthy occurrences of his visit. 
 He describes the sermon as extempore, but the 
 clergyman probably pursued on the occasion 
 his usual method of committing his discourse to 
 memory, and repeating it without having the 
 manuscript before him. His delivery was very 
 emphatic, and his gesticulation often violent. He 
 was in great demand on charitable and public 
 occasions, and a number of his sermons of this 
 description were printed. In addition to these, 
 he published, in 1791, a volume of Discourses on 
 the leading jicrsonages of Scripture History ; and 
 in 1794, a series on The Signs of the Times, the 
 delivery of which had excited great interest and 
 much opposition among a certain class, owing to 
 the strong ground taken in them in favor of the 
 French Revolution, a movement of which the 
 Doctor was a warm partisan, until it became 
 identified with infidelity and anarchy. His ser- 
 mon on the blessings of America, before the 
 Tammany Society, preached in the Middle Dutch 
 Church, on the 4th of July, 1791, expresses the 
 same views. In it, after claiming with Mr. Jef- 
 ferson, that " making due allowance for our age 
 and numbers, we have produced as many emi- 
 
PHILIP FIIENEAU. 
 
 327 
 
 nent men as fall to our share ;" and invoking the 
 patriotism of the country, he plunges into an 
 attack on the foes of liberty, Edmund Burke in 
 particular, and a glorification of the French Re- 
 volution. " May we not indulge the pleasing 
 thought, that the time is not far distant, when 
 tyranny everywhere shall be destroyed; when 
 mankind shall be the slaves of monsters and 
 idiots no more, but recover the true dignity of 
 their nature ! The cause of liberty is continually 
 gathering strength. The advocates of despotic 
 rule must fail. The British orator, though he 
 sublimely rave, he raves in vain. No force of 
 getaus, no brilliancy of fancy, and no ornament 
 of language can support his wretched cause. He 
 and his abettors only hasten its downfall. The 
 Revolution in France is great, is astonishing, is 
 glorious. It is, perhaps, not just to say, that 
 the iiame was kindled by us, but certainly we 
 continued to blow and increase it, as France will 
 in other nations, until blaze joining blaze, shall 
 illumine the darkest and remotest corners of the 
 earth." On the same occasion an ode was sung, 
 composed by Dr. William Pitt Smith, with the 
 line — 
 
 To God, Columbia's King, we homage pay. 
 
 In his preface to his Sermon on National Sins, 
 delivered May 9, 1798, the day recommended by 
 the President of the United States to be observed 
 as a day of General Fast (T. & J. Swords, 1798), 
 he says of his sermons on the " Signs of the 
 Times :" — ■" If, in prosecuting my main object, I 
 expressed sanguine expectations from the Revolu- 
 tion in France, both as to herself and to the 
 world, thousands in all countries, at the time, 
 entertained the same, and have been equally dis- 
 appointed. If the French nation have departed 
 from their original principles, I am not obliged to 
 follow them. I will be no advocate for enor- 
 mities unequalled in the annals of mankind ; 
 for principles which subvert all religion, morality, 
 and order, and which threaten to involve us, 
 with the whole human race, in the utmost con- 
 fusion and misery." 
 
 His Funeral Sermon on the Death of "Wash- 
 ington was printed in 1800. He was shortly 
 after compelled to give up his clerical charge in 
 consequence of ill health, and retired to Albany, 
 where he died in January, 1808, in the fifty-fifth 
 year of his age. His sermons are plainly written, 
 tut concise, and often forcible in expression. He 
 left a daughter, who gave indications of poetical 
 ability, but died at an early age. Another 
 daughter married Charles Brockden Brown, and 
 a third Simeon De Witt. 
 
 WASHINGTON.* 
 
 "There was in him that assemblage of qualities 
 which constitutes real greatness ; and these qualities 
 were remarkably adapted to the conspicuous part 
 which he was called to perform. He was not tinsel, 
 but gold ; not a pebble, but a diamond ; not a me- 
 teor, but a sun. Were he compared with the sages 
 
 *From a Funeral Eulogy, occasioned by the death oi' General 
 Washington, delivered February 22d, 1800. before the New 
 York State Society of the Cincinnati. Bv William Linn, D.D. 
 New York: Muted by Isaac Collins, No. 189 Pearl street. 
 pp. 44. 
 
 and the Neroes of antiquity, he would gain by the 
 comparison, or rather, he would be found to be free 
 from the blemishes, and to unite the excellencies of 
 them all. Like Fabius, he was prudent ; like Han- 
 nibal, he was unappalled by difficulties ; like Cyrus, 
 he conciliated affection ; like Cimon, he was frugal ; 
 like Philopemon, he was humble ; and like Pompey, 
 he was successful. If we compare him with charac- 
 ters in the Sacred Records, he combined the exploits 
 of Moses and Joshua, not only by conducting us 
 safely across the Red Sea, and through the wilder- 
 ness, but by bringing us into the promised land ; 
 like David, he conquered an insulting Goliath, and 
 rose to the highest honors from an humble station; 
 like Hezekiah he ruled ; and like Josiah at his death, 
 there is a mourning " as the mourning of Hadad- 
 ritnmon, in the valley of Megiddon." Nor is the 
 mourning confined to us, but extends to all the wise 
 and good who ever heard of his name. The Gene- 
 rals whom he opposed will wrap their hilts in black, 
 and stern Cornwallis drop a tear. 
 
 He was honored even in death. After all his fa- 
 tigues, and though he had arrived near to the limit 
 fixed for human life, yet his understanding was not 
 impaired, nor his frame wasted by any lingering 
 disease. We did not hear of his siekuess until we 
 heard that he was no more. 
 
 PHILIP FF.ENEATJ. 
 
 Freneac, the popular political versifier of the 
 days of the Revolution, the newspaper advocate 
 of the republican party afterwards, and a true 
 poet in Iris best moments, was born in New York, 
 in Frankfort street, Jan. 2, 1752, of a family 
 which hud emigrated from France on the Revo- 
 cation of the Edict of Nantes. His ancestors bad 
 been among the founders of the St. Esprit Church, 
 in Pine street, New York. The house from which 
 his grandfather was buried, was formerly pointed 
 out in Hanover square* In 1771, we find Philip 
 Freneau a graduate of the College of New Jersey, 
 in the same class with Madison, the future Presi- 
 dent, with whom ho was on terms of close inti- 
 macy, and associated with Brackenridge iD the 
 composition and delivery of a Commencement 
 poem on the Mining (flory of America^ Freneau's 
 portion of which is included in two of the editions 
 of his writings. It is animated and vigorous in 
 description and sentiment. A line in his picture 
 of a supposed settlement of the western conti- 
 nent by a stray ship of the Carthaginians, is 
 poetic : — 
 
 In the course of long revolving yeai'9 
 
 A numerous progeny from these arose, 
 
 And spread throughout the coasts — those whom we 
 
 call 
 Brazibans, Mexicans, Peruvians rich, 
 The tribes of Chili, I'atagon, and those 
 Who till the shores of Amazons long stream. 
 
 There is a pleasing sketch of rural life in this 
 production, with other proof that though a youth- 
 ful poem, it contained something more than the 
 required declamation for the hour. 
 
 We next hear of Freneau as a victim in the 
 fortunes of the Revolution. He was taken pri- 
 soner by the British, and condemned to the bar- 
 barities of the prison-ship at New York, a treat- 
 
 * A brief notice of Frencan, attributed to John Pintard, in 
 the New York Mirror, Jan. 12, 1S33. 
 t Ante, p. 2S9. 
 
328 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 merit -which he did not forget in his Cantos from 
 a Prison- Ship. These are dated in 1780, and 
 celebrate his capture on the coast of Delaware, in 
 a vessel, gallantly described, in which he was 
 sailing to St. Eustatia, by a British frigate, which 
 carried him to NeW York.* Here he speedily 
 made the intimate acquaintanceship of the Scor- 
 pion, moored on the Hudson, whose "mountain 
 stream'' sent no cooling breath to the victims in 
 their ghastly dungeons. 
 
 O'er distant streams appenrs the dewy green, 
 And leafy trees on mountain tops are seen, 
 But they no groves nor grassy mountains tread, 
 Mark'd for a longer journey to the dead. 
 
 On the opposite side of the island was stationed 
 the Hunter hospital ship, " a slaughter-house, 
 yet hospital in name," where a Hessian doctor, 
 remarkable for his stupidity, visited the fever- 
 stricken prisoners. 
 
 Some with his pills he sent to Pluto's reign, 
 And some he blister' d with his flies of Spain ; 
 
 On our lost comrades built his future fame, 
 And scatter'd fate where'er his footsteps came. 
 
 "When the merciful angel death came, the pri- 
 soners were buried on the shore, and the poet 
 invokes the tenderness of posterity for their 
 graves; an appeal not now out of place, when 
 "sapient trouble-tombs" would remove the fine 
 monument erecting in memory of these things 
 on Broadway, in the grave-yard of Trinity, where 
 others of these unfortunates lie buried. 
 
 When to your arms these fatal islands fall 
 (For first, or last, they must be conquei'd all), 
 Americans! to rites sepulchral just, 
 With gentlest footstep press this kindred dust, 
 And o'er the tombs, if tombs can then be found, 
 Place the green turf, and plant the myrtle round. 
 
 Some of Freneau's poems, according to the title- 
 
 Sage of the octavo edition, which he printed at 
 lonmouth, N. J., were written as early as 1768, 
 when he was in his seventeenth year. The Poeti- 
 cal History of the Prophet Jonah, written with 
 propriety and spirit, and the humorous tale of 
 The Village Merchant, bear that date. At what 
 time and In what way Freneau escaped from the 
 prison-ship, we are not informed ; hut. we may 
 gather some of his subsequent movements from 
 the dates of his poems and essays. 
 
 His prose sketches, The Philosopher of the 
 Forest, were first printed in the Freernan^s Jour- 
 nal of Philadelphia, in November, 1781. 
 
 In 1782, he pens at Philadelphia A Discourse 
 on Esquires, with a short Narrative of his Honor 
 
 * The British Prison-Ship, a Poem, in four Cartos, viz.: — 
 Canto 1. The Capture. 2. The Prison-ship. 3. The Prison- 
 Ship continued. 4. The Hospital Pn'son-Shiii — to which is 
 added a Poem on the Death of Capt. K. Biddle. Phila.: F. 
 Bailey. 17S1. 
 
 the President of the Bebtors 1 Club, one of his 
 prose essays. In 1784, we have Lines Written 
 at Port Royal, in the Island of Jamaica, and 
 the next year some verses, The Departure, in 
 which he takes leave of the Hudson for a sea 
 voyage, from which we may infer that he had 
 already some pretensions to the title of Captain, 
 by which he was generally known in his later 
 days. His Journey from Philadelphia to New 
 York ly way of Burlington and South An.loy, 
 written in verse, shows an intimate acquaintance 
 with nautical slang. His New Year's Verses, 
 written for the Carriers of the Columbian Herald; 
 are dated Charleston, Jan., 1786. At one time 
 Philip Freneau commanded a vessel sailing out of 
 that port. 
 
 The first edition of Freneau's poems was in i 
 Philadelphia in 1786, The Poems of Philip Fre- 
 neau, written chiefly during the lute War: It is 
 very neatly printed, in a single duodecimo volume. 
 In 1788, a second volume followed, The Miscel- 
 laneous Worls of Mr. Philip Freneau, contain- 
 ing his Essays and Additional Poems, Philadel- 
 phia, printed by Francis Bailey, at Yorick's Head, 
 in Market street, a neat duodecimo volume of 
 429 pages, with an advertisement from the 
 printer : — " The following essays and poems, 
 selected from some printed and manuscript papers 
 of Mr. Freneau. are now presented to the pub- 
 lic of the United States, in hopes they will 
 prove at least equally acceptable with his\olume 
 of poems pulti-hed last year. Some few of the 
 pieces in this volume have heretofore appeared in 
 American newspapers; but through a fatality 
 not unusually attending publications of that kind, 
 are now, perhaps, forgotten ; and, at any time, 
 may possibly never have been seen, or attended 
 to, but by very few." This is the only volume 
 of Freneau's writings, in book form, which con- 
 tains any of his prose compositions. It was pub- 
 lished, as usual in those days even for small 
 duodecimo volumes, by subscription. De "Witt 
 | Clinton takes a copy in New York, and John Pin- 
 i tard subscribes for two. Some of Freneau's best 
 j pieces are in this volume : — The Pictures of 
 ' Columbus, The Indian Student, The Indian 
 Burying Ground, The Man of Ninety, and that 
 delicate little poem May to April. 
 
 The prose essays are pleasant papers. They 
 are at once simple and elegant in style, indepen- 
 dent in thought, playful and humorous. They 
 were for the most part written with the signature 
 of Robert Slender, whom the author took the 
 liberty of burying, that he might publish his 
 manuscripts. The Adtice to Authors, with which 
 they open, is, with its playful irony, a fresh, 
 manly essay. These miscellaneous essays are all 
 clever productions. They are grouped in several 
 little collections, Tracts and Essays on Sexeial 
 Subjects, by Mr. Slender; Essays, lales, and 
 Poems, by Mr. Slender ; The Philosopher of 
 the Forest. They embrace the usual reper- 
 tory of the essayist, in description, apologue, 
 and gentle satire. One of these time-honored 
 inventions consecrated by Voltaire and Gold- 
 j smith, is an account of the Voyage of Timberoo- 
 tc/bo-cede, an Otaheite Indian, who visits foreign 
 countries at the command of his sovereign, and 
 reports on their absurdities on his return. A 
 paragraph will show its spirit, a corrective for 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 329 
 
 hasty observation, •which may still be of service 
 to ethnologists : — " During the time ot eating, we 
 were encircled by a number of black people of 
 both sexes, who had green branches in their 
 hands, which we at first supposed were emble- 
 matical of peace and friendship, but, as we soon 
 after discovered, were only meant tu brush away 
 the flies from our victuals." 
 
 - The third publication of Freneau's writings 
 was made by himself at his press at Monmouth, 
 New Jersey, in 170o,* and is much the most 
 complete collection. It is an octavo volume of 
 four hundred and fifty-six pages, and contains 
 nearly three hundred articles in verse, in most of 
 the popular forms of composition, of description, 
 tale, satire, song, and epigram. 
 
 The next edition of the Poems, a revision of 
 the whole, was issued by subscription, in two 
 volumes, in Philadelphia, in 1809.+ Tbis con- 
 tained two translations from Ovid and Lucretius. 
 
 An author's advertisement appeals to the pub- 
 lic on patriotic grounds. The collection has been 
 mostly restricted to " Poems that arose from the 
 incidents of the American revolutionary content, 
 down to the date of 1793. These were intended, 
 in part, to expose to vice and treason, their own 
 hideous deformity; to depict virtue, honour, and 
 patriotism in their native beauty. To his coun- 
 trymen, the real Patriotic Americans, the Revo- 
 lutionary Republicans, ami the rising generation 
 who are* attached to their sentiments and princi- 
 ples, the writer hopes this collection will not 
 prove unacceptable." In 1815, a fourth publica- 
 tion appeared, from the press of Long worth of 
 
 •POEMS 
 Weitten between the Yeabs 17GS & 1794, 
 
 B V 
 
 PHILIP FRENEAU, 
 
 O F 
 NEW JERSEY. 
 
 A New Edition, Revised and Corrected by the 
 
 Autuoe; Including a considerable number of 
 Pieces never before published. 
 
 Audax inde aohora eteVoA e pluribus unum. 
 Ardua pyramidos tollls ad a-ttra caput. 
 
 page 435. 
 
 MO N MO U T II 
 
 [N. J.] 
 
 P R IKIB D 
 
 At tbc Press of the Author, at Mount-Pleasant, near 
 
 MIDDLETOWN-POINT ; M.DCC.XCV : and, of 
 
 — American Independence — 
 
 XIX. 
 
 + Pooms Written and Published during the American Revo- 
 lutionary War, and now Republished from the Original 
 Manuscripts; interspersed with Translations from the An- 
 cients, and other Pieces not heretofore in print. By Philip 
 Freneau. 
 
 -Justly to record the deeds of fame. 
 
 A musefrom heaven should touch the soul with flame; 
 
 Some powerful spirit in superior luys 
 
 Should tell the conflicts of the stormy days. 
 
 The third edition, in two volumes. Phila., from the press of 
 tydia R. Bailey, No. 1:) North Alley, 18C9. 
 
 New York, in two duodecimo volumes, A Col- 
 lection of Poems, on American Affairs, and a 
 variety of other subjects, chiefly Moral and Poli- 
 tical; written between the year 1797 and the 
 present time. The title-page appeals to the war 
 feeling of the period. 
 
 Then England come! — a sense of wrong requires 
 To meet with thirteen stars your thousand fires : 
 Through these stern times the conflict to maintain, 
 Or drown them, witli year commerce, in the main. 
 
 The contents show (hat Freneau had lost no- 
 thing of his national ardor with age. He is still 
 sensitive to the feelings of the times, and cele- 
 brates most passing themes, from the death of a 
 Russian Empress to the rebuilding of Nassau 
 Hull, and tho city encroachments on the Hudson 
 River. Tho military events of the war are his 
 special care, as ho devotes himself to the denun- 
 ciation of the foe and the encouragement of his 
 countrymen, frequently mingling with his higher 
 themes the humorous incidents of the camp. 
 
 A largo portion of Freneau's occupations must 
 be looked for in his employments upon the press. 
 
 In 1701, Freneau edited the National Gazette, in 
 Philadelphia, a journal supported in opposition 
 to Pcnno's Gaze'te, under the alleged influence 
 of Hamilton. At the same time, Jefferson, 11-en 
 Secretary of State, gave him a post in his office, 
 of translating clerk. Hamilton did not relish the 
 attacks of Freneau in his paper, which he described 
 as "i ntem peratel} - devoted to the abuse of the 
 government, and all the conspicuous actors in.it, 
 except the Secretary of State and his coadjutors, 
 who were tho constant theme of its panegyric," 
 and commented strongly upon the impropriety of 
 Jefferson's official support of the editor, in a 
 series of political, assaults, signed An American, 
 and contributed to the Gazette of the United 
 States, in August, 1792. The articles are pub- 
 lished in the Hamilton Correspondence. From 
 these it appears that "Mr. Freneau, before he 
 came to Philadelphia to conduct the National 
 Gazette, was employed by Childs & Sprague, 
 printers of the Daily Advertiser in New York, in 
 the capacity of editor or snperintendant," and 
 that the first number of the National Gazette 
 appeared under his direction Oct. 31, 1791. The 
 New York Daily Advertiser of Oct. 2t> had tho 
 announcement : " We hear from Philadelphia 
 that the Hon. Thomas Jefferson, Esq., Secretary 
 of State for the United States, has appointed 
 Captain Philip Freneau interpreter of the French 
 language for the Department of State." On these 
 facts, and some hearsay evidence, which failed to 
 be substantiated, Hamilton made his charge uppn 
 Jefferson of c uitrolling the paper, and using the 
 patronage of his office for the support of its editor. 
 Jefferson, in a letter to Washington, dated Sept. 
 9, 1792, disposes of this matter. While tho 
 government, says he, was at New York, he was 
 appealed to on behalf of Freneau, to know if there 
 was any place within his department to which lie 
 could be appointed. There was no vacancy, but 
 when tho removal to Philadelphia took place, 
 Mr. Pintard, the translating clerk, did not 
 choose to follow, so Freneau succeeded him, 
 I with a salary of two hundred and fifty dollars 
 per annum. As for the connexion with the 
 paper, Jefferson said he gave Freneau tho prefer- 
 
330 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ence for the office " as a man' of genius," as he l>ad 
 recommended Eittenhouse, Barlow, and others, to 
 Washington ; that he was anxious that the material 
 parts of the Ley den Gazette should be republished ; 
 and as" Freneau's newspaper arrangements ottered 
 facilities for the publication, he gave them to him ; 
 that he had procured subscriptions for his paper, 
 and in advance, but that he had never written or 
 dictated, or been instrumental in furnishing aline 
 for the journal.* 
 
 ' On occasion of the great entertainment given 
 to Genet, in Philadelphia, in 1793, after his muti- 
 lated reception by the President, citizen Freneau 
 was present, and was requested to translate the 
 French ode written by Duponceau, the singing of 
 which was one of the items of this extraordinary 
 festivity. Freneau was a great advocate of France 
 through this period, and annoyed Washington by 
 liis assaults on the administration. There was 
 " that rascal Freneau," said he, " sent him three 
 of his papers every day, as if he would become 
 the distributor of them, an act in which he could 
 see nothing but an impudent design to insult 
 him."t 
 
 A series of Probationary Odes, by Jonathan 
 Pindar, Esq., a cousin of Peter's, and candidate 
 for the post of Poet Laureat, published in the 
 Gazette for 1793, were probably written by 
 Freneau. Adams, Knox, Hamilton, and others, 
 are satirized, and there are seven stanzas of advice 
 " to a truly Great Man," George Washington, 
 touching the establishment of banks. 
 
 TO A TEULY CHEAT MAN. 
 
 "Jiistiim et tcnaceni propositivirum." — Hor. 
 
 George, on thy virtues often have I dwelt ; 
 
 And still the theme is grateful to mine ear ; 
 Thy gold let chemists ten times c-ver melt, 
 
 From dross and base alloy they'll find it clear. 
 
 Yet thou'rt a man — although, perhaps, the first ; 
 
 But man at best is but a being frail ; 
 And since with error human nature's curst, 
 
 I marvel not that thou shouldst sometimes fail. 
 
 That thou hast long and nobly served the state, 
 The nation oimis, and freely gives thee thanks: 
 
 But Sir! — whatever speculators prate, 
 
 She gave thee not the power to establish Banks. 
 
 No doubt thou thought'st it. was a phenix nest, 
 "Which Congress were so busy to build up : 
 
 But there a crocodile had fixed his rest, 
 And snapped the nation's bowels at a sup. 
 
 The greedy monster is not yet half cloyed, 
 Nor will be, whilst a leg or arm remains ; 
 
 Those parts the last of all should be destroyed ; 
 The next delicious morsel is her brains. 
 
 I trust thou'st seen the monster by this time, 
 And hast prepared thy knife to cut his throat; 
 
 His scales are so damned hard, that in thy prime, 
 "fwould take thee twenty years to make it out. 
 
 God grant thee life to do it: — Fare thee well ! 
 Another time examine well the nest; 
 
 * Hamilton's Works, iv. Son. 
 
 t May 23, 1793. "Washington adverted to a piece in Freneau's 
 paper of yesterday. His paper lias saved our constitution, 
 which was galloping fast into monarchy, and has heen checked 
 by no one means so powerfully as by that paper. It is well 
 and universally known that it has heen that paper which lias 
 cheeked the career of the uiouocrats."— Jefferson's Ana, Works, 
 iv. 466, 401, Ed. 1830. 
 
 Though of Arabia's spices it should smell 
 It may produce some foul internal pest. 
 
 These were the verses on John Adams : — 
 
 TO A WOULD-BE GREAT MAN. 
 
 Jonathan defendeth the Giieat Defender; mngni- 
 fieth and exalteth his works ; and eonfesseth his 
 own littleness of understanding. 
 " Certat tergeminis tollere honoribus." — Hoh. 
 
 Daddy Vice, Daddy Vice, 
 One may see in a trice 
 The drift of your fine publication ; 
 As sure as a gun, 
 The thing was just done, 
 To secure you — a pretty high station. 
 
 Defences you call 
 
 To knock down our wall, 
 And batter the States to the ground, sir; 
 
 So thick were your shot, 
 
 And so hellish fire-hot, 
 They've scarce a whole bone to be found, sir — 
 
 When you tell us of kings, 
 
 And such pretty thiigs, 
 Good mercy ! how brilliant your page is 1 
 
 So bright in each line 
 
 I vow now you'll shine 
 Like — a glow-worm to all future ages. 
 
 When you handle your balance, 
 
 So vast are your talents, 
 Like Atlas your wonderful strength is^ 
 
 You know every state 
 
 To a barley-corn weight, 
 For your steel-yard the continent length is. 
 
 On Davila's page 
 
 Your discourses so sage 
 Democralical numseulls bepuzzle, 
 
 With arguments tough 
 
 As white leather or buff, 
 The republican lull-dogs to muzzle. 
 
 'Tis labor in vain, 
 
 Your senses to strain 
 Cur brains any longer to muddle; 
 
 Like Colossus you stride 
 
 O'er our noddles so wide, 
 We look up like feogs in a puddle.* 
 
 The Gazette was published till the conclusion 
 of a second volume and the second vear, October 
 26, 1793. 
 
 Freneau had a genius for newspapers. At his 
 own press at Mount Pleasant, near Middletown 
 Point, May 2, 1795, "and of American Indepen- 
 dence xix.," as he adds, he published the first 
 number of his Jersey Chronicle, on eight small 
 quarto pages of the precise size of seven inches 
 by eight. His address "to the Public" is, as 
 usual, very neat,- — commencing with a motto from 
 Horace, in reference to his rural press — " Inter 
 sylvas Academi quajrere verum," and this an- 
 nouncement of the design : — " the editor in the 
 publication of this paper proposes among other 
 objects, to present his readers with a complete 
 history of the foreign and domestic events of the 
 times, together with such essays, remarks and 
 observations as shall tend to illustrate the politics, 
 or mark the general character of the age and 
 
 * These verses are quoted by Mr. J. T. Buckingham, in his 
 Specimens of Newspaper Literature. Art. National Gazette, 
 ii. 139, 140. 
 
PHILH FRENEAU. 
 
 331 
 
 country in which we live." The paper is dated 
 " Mount-Pleasant, near Middlctown Point : — print- 
 ed by P. Frenean — by whom Advertisements, 
 Hand Bills, &c, are done at the shortest notice, 
 and on the most reasonable terms." With the 
 third number it grew in dimensions, and extended 
 to a third column in width. To the foreign af- 
 fairs and "American advices" were added the 
 essays entitled Tomo Cheeki and an occasional 
 poem — the Republican Genius of Europe, the 
 Rival Suitors for America. Apropos to the na- 
 tional anniversary of 1795 at Monmouth, he pub- 
 lishes one of the English songs of the day, this 
 
 HYMN TO LIBEETY. 
 
 God save the lights of man! 
 Give us a heart to scan 
 
 Blessings so dear: 
 Let them be spread around 
 Wherever man is found, 
 And with a welcome sound 
 
 Ravish each ear. 
 
 See. from the universe 
 Dai-kness and clouds disperse, 
 
 Mankind awake ; 
 Reason and truth appear, 
 Freedom advances near, 
 Muuarchs. with terror, hear — 
 
 See how they quake. 
 
 Long have we felt the stroke, 
 Long have we bore the yoke, 
 
 Sluggish and tame : 
 But now the lion roars 
 And a loud note he pours, 
 Spreading to distant shores 
 
 Liberty's fame. 
 
 Godlike and great the strife, 
 Life will, indeed, be life 
 
 When we prevail. 
 Death, in so just a cause, 
 Crown us with loud applause 
 And from tyrannic laws 
 
 Bid us — all hail ! 
 
 O'er the Germanic powers 
 Big indignation lours 
 
 Ready to fall— 
 Let the rude savage host 
 Of their long numbers boast, 
 Freedom's almighty trust 
 
 Laughs at them all ! 
 
 Fame, let thy trumpet sound — 
 Tell all the world around 
 
 Frenchmen are free! 
 Tell ribbons, crowns and stars, 
 Kings, traitors, troops and wars, 
 Plans, councils, plots and jars, 
 
 America's free. 
 
 t About the same time he announces the edition 
 of his poems of 1795, which he published at the 
 same press. With the fifty -second number at the 
 close of the year, April 30, 1796, Frenean winds up 
 the paper with a notice " to subscribers" stati ng that 
 
 in number one of the Jersey Chronicle the Editor 
 announced his intention of extending the publica- 
 tion beyond the first year, provided the attempt 
 should in the meantime be suitably encouraged and 
 found practicable. But the necessary number of 
 subscribers having not yet appeared, scarcely to 
 defray the expenses of the undertaking', notwith- 
 standing the very low rate (it was published at 
 
 twelve shillings per annum) at which it has been 
 offered, the editor with some regret declines a fur- 
 ther prosecution of Ids plan at this time. He em- 
 braces the present opportunity to return his sincere 
 thanks to such persons in this and the neighboring 
 counties as have favored 1dm with their subscrip- 
 tions; and have also by their punctuality in com- 
 plying with the terms originally proposed, thus far 
 enabled him to issue a free, independent and repub- 
 lican paper. 
 
 It is from some such printing-ofnc3 as that 
 which sent forth his Jersey Chronicle, that we 
 may fancy Frenean inditing his poem of the 
 Country Printer, a purely American description 
 of the village and associations of the place: the 
 arrival of the old-time coach, the odd farrago of 
 the editor's page, the office itself: — 
 
 Here lie the types, in curious order rang'd, 
 Ready alike to imprint your prose or ver^e ; 
 Ready to speak, their order only chang'd, 
 Creek-Indian lingo, Dutch or Highland Erse; 
 These types have printed Erskine's Gospel Treat, 
 Tom Durfey's songs, and Banyan's works, complete: 
 
 and the editor himself,— with something more 
 than a suggestion of Philip Freneau. The change 
 from the Srats House to Saratoga in the last 
 stanza which we quote is a powerful thrust of 
 satire. 
 
 He, ia his time, the patriot of his town, 
 
 "With press and pen attaek'd the royal side, 
 
 Did what he could to pull their Lioa down, 
 
 Clipp'd at his heard, and twitched his sacred hide, 
 
 Mimiek'd his roarings, trod upon his toes, 
 
 Pelted young whelps, and tweak'd the old one s nos'e. 
 
 Rous'd by his page, at church or court-house read, 
 From depths of woods the willing rustics ran, 
 Now by a priest, and now soins deaeon led. 
 With clubs and spits to guard the rights of man ; 
 Lads from the spade, the pick-axe, or the plough . 
 Marching afar to fight Burgoyne or Howe. 
 
 Where are they now? — the Village asks with grief, 
 What were their toils, their conquests, or their 
 
 gains? — 
 Perhaps, they near some State-House beg relief, 
 Perhaps, they sleep on Saratoga's plains ; 
 Doom'd not to live, their country to reproach 
 For seven-years' pay transferred to Mammon's coach. 
 
 Freneau was probably at .all times busy, more 
 or less, with the newspapers. His next impor- 
 tant venture of this kind was of a literary cha- 
 racter at New York. 
 
 The first number of his Time-Piece and Lite- 
 rary Companion was issued at New York, March 
 13, 1797. It was printed three times a week — on 
 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, in a 
 neat folio form, paged, at the price of thirty shil- 
 lings, New York currency, per annum. Its editor 
 seems to have formed a partnership in the print- 
 ing business, for the purpose of its publication, 
 ''In order," he says, "to render this work the 
 more interesting and acceptable to the public at 
 large, in regard to neatness and elegance of 
 mechanical execution, the subscriber informs all 
 wdio have or may favor him with their names, 
 that he has associated himself as a partner in the 
 typographical line of business with Mr. Alexander 
 Menut, of that profession, some time since from 
 Canada, and who is become, and means to con- 
 
332 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURK 
 
 tinue, a citizen of the United States." The pro- 
 posals signed by Freneau announce thenewpaper 
 as " intended for the diffusion of useful as well as 
 ornamental knowledge, news, and liberal amuse- 
 ment in general," and its editor pledges himself 
 to use his best endeavors to render the Time- 
 Piecc and Literary Companion, " a work of merit, 
 and as far as his exertions or abilities will permit, 
 worthy the patronage of the public." The pro- 
 mise was well fulfilled during the year or more of 
 Freneau's editorship. Sept. 15, 1797, with the 
 beginning of the second volume, the name of 
 M. L. Davis appears associated with Freneau 
 as the publisher, when the notice of the printer's) 
 partnership with Menut is dropped. Freneau 
 and Davis appear at the head of the paper till 
 No. 81, March 21, 1798, when the publishers are 
 changed to M. L. Davis &, Co. ; and with No. 
 118, June 15, 1798, R. Saunders appears for the 
 proprietors. Saunders disappears with No. 128, 
 Jul}' 9 of the same year, and the paper is pub- 
 lished for the proprietors at 25 Maiden Lane, at 
 least till No. 150, Aug. 30, 1798, where the file 
 closes in the rare volume preserved in the New 
 York Historical Society. The evidence of Fre- 
 neau's ability had departed from its columns some 
 time before. For along time, however, it wa* 
 admirably sustained by Freneau, whose tact at 
 administering to the tastes of the public was 
 shown in the skill of the selection and the general 
 elegance of the material. There were news of 
 the day carefully digested, biographies, corres- 
 pondence, anecdotes, and occasional poems ad 
 libitum. In the second number he commences a 
 translation of the travels of M. Abbe Kobin, 
 " Chaplain in Count Roohambeau's army, giv- 
 ing a general account of the progress of the 
 French army from Rhode Island, the place of 
 their landing, to Yorktown in Virginia; and of 
 some other occurrences." This, we are told, he 
 
 had made fourteen years before ; but as a. 
 
 all 
 
 edition was printed off, the work is now in the 
 hands of very few.* Freneau also republishes his 
 series of Tomo Chceli, the Creek Indian in Phi- 
 ladelphia, with this preliminary notice : " A num- 
 ber of eccentric writings under this title, and to 
 the amount of a considerable volume, are in the 
 hands of the editor of the Time-Piece, said to be 
 translated from one of the Indian languages of 
 this country. They were transmitted to him 
 more than two years ago, and a few numbers pub- 
 lished in a gazette, edited by him in a neighbor- 
 ing state ; but discontinued with that paper. If 
 the lucubrations of a rude aboriginal of America 
 shall appear to afford any gratification to the 
 generality of our readers, the whole will be occa- 
 sionally offered to the public through the medium 
 of the Time-Piece." 1 The politics were republican 
 for both sides of the water. If Freneau was hard 
 pressed by an adversary, he could always bring 
 his muse to his aid as in this sharp hit at Cob- 
 bett, in the paper of Sept. 13, 1797, in reply to 
 "a despicable mess of scurrility in one of Porcu- 
 pine's Gazettes of last week, in which he men- 
 tions he was plagued with the Time-Piece for 
 several months," coupled with the explanation 
 that the Time-Piece had at first been sent to 
 
 : It woa printed at Philadelphia in 17S3. 
 
 Porcupine, according to editorial custom, " till 
 finding the hoggishness of the fellow, in not 
 consenting to an exchange, the transmission was 
 discontinued."* 
 
 From Penn's famous city what hosts have departed, 
 The streets and the houses are nearly deserted, 
 
 But still there remain! 
 
 Two Vipers, that's plain, 
 Who soon, it is thought, yellow flag will display ; 
 
 Old Porcupine preaching, 
 
 And Fenno beseeching 
 Some dung-cart to wheel him away. 
 
 Phibidelphians, we're sorry you suffer by fevers, 
 Or suffer such scullions to be your deceivers ; 
 
 Will Pitt's noisy whelp 
 
 With his red foxy scalp 
 Whom the kennels of London spew'd out in a fright, 
 
 Has sculk'd over here 
 
 To snuffle and sneer, 
 Like a puppy to snap, or a bull-dog to bite. 
 
 If cut from the gallows, or kiek'd from the post, 
 Such fellows as these are of England the boast, 
 
 But Columbia's disgrace! 
 
 Begone from that place 
 That was dignified once by a Franklin and Penn, 
 
 But infested by "you 
 
 And your damnable crew 
 Will soon be deserted by aU honest men. 
 
 Captain Freneau, having concluded his active 
 political career and' his voyages to Madeira' and 
 the West Indies, passed his latter days in New 
 Jersey, occasionally visiting New York, where he 
 saw his friends in the democratic ranks of the 
 day. 
 
 Of his associations at this time we have a 
 pleasing reminiscence in the following original 
 sketch, kindly written in answer to our inquiries 
 on the subject, by Dr. John W. Francis of New 
 York. 
 
 " To the young, the ingenuous, and the inquiring 
 the City of New York, some thirty or forty years 
 ago, presented an interest which we in vain look 
 for at the present day ; and consequently excited 
 emotions of patriotism and induced historical 
 research, by the accidental associations inherent in 
 the very character of the personages and occur- 
 rences of those remoter times. Our metropolis at 
 that period was enriched by the sojourn or tem- 
 porary presence of a large number of Ihose re- 
 nowned individuals who had labored in the ser- 
 vice of the revolutionary struggle, and who in 
 council and in the field had secured the triumphs 
 of those principles so early espoused by the 
 ' Sons of Liberty.' The state at large had been 
 extensively the area of warfare; the deliberations 
 arising out of the adoption of the Constitution for 
 the Union, the master spirits engaged in that 
 responsible trust, all awakened deep interest in 
 New York. Much of what was then speculative 
 discussion has since become historical fact; and 
 the sires of those great actions, who presented 
 themselves at every corner of the streets, and in 
 
 * Cobbett pnbM hed his Peter Porcupine's Works, in 12 
 vols., in London, in 1801, including; selections from his Gazette, 
 and republications of various of his American political tracts, 
 with which, dtning his residence, he annoyed the Democrats 
 of America. His Porcupine's Gazette, a villanously printed 
 sheet bv the way. was issued at Philadelphia from the 4th 
 March, 1797, to Jan., 13C0. 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 333 
 
 the social circles, now sleep the sleep ordained 
 to mortality. The national ballads and songs of 
 colonial strife, which were enriched with addi- 
 tional charms by the vocal displays of the very 
 actors of those scenes, may occasionally be recog- 
 nised in the Metrical Miscellany, or printed in the 
 Songster's Museum; but the echo of applauding 
 admirers which was consequent upon the melo- 
 dist's strains is not now to be heard. Even the 
 great Hamilton might have been joined in such a 
 confederacy; and I have listened to Gates, of 
 Saratoga, Ju similar efforts. In short our city 
 abounded with the heroes of revolutionary fame, 
 citizens, and natives of remote parts of the Union ; 
 add to all these the scores of old Tories, and the 
 multitudes of the once disaffected, who had es- 
 caped the trials of the revolutionary contest hy 
 the ingenuity of self-interest, and the sagacious 
 use of th'eir fiscal resources, and we have at least 
 one view of the diversified population of those 
 incipient days of the American Republic. 
 
 " It was natural that a participator in the occur- 
 rences of those times of trial consumed in the war 
 of Independence, who was an eye-witness to many 
 of the hardest impositions of that eventful period; 
 who had, moreover, borne a notable share of its 
 sufferings, who had felt the horrors of the Jersey 
 prison-ship, and had become intimate with that 
 glorious band of warriors and statesmen, should 
 desire in after times, when the fruits of peace were 
 secured, to renew the associations of past events, 
 recount the tale of patriotism, and find consolation 
 in the retrospect by converse among kindred 
 spirits. 
 
 " Philip Freneau was eminently a character who 
 would not heedlessly let pa^s such opportunities, 
 and we accordingly find him, when not engrossed 
 with oilier avocations, constantly associated with 
 those who gratified his most cherished sympathies 
 in his often repeated visits to New York. The 
 various editions of his poetical writings hear tes- 
 timony to his continued ardor as a cultivator of 
 the patriotic muse, and if we examine the pro- 
 ductions of the periodical press "e must be satis- 
 fied that he was comparatively in fferent to fame 
 in his selection, as many of his be; products are 
 to be found elsewhere than in his collections. An 
 unpretending popular weekly contains his beau- 
 tiful address to the Isle of Madeira; and in his 
 poem on the Carolinas he gives utterance to Ids 
 emotions on revisiting the scenes of his earlier 
 days with the warmth and tenderness of an en- 
 thusiast. 
 
 " It is chiefly hy the several dates of his nu- 
 merous productions that we are enabled to trace 
 his diversified employments and sojourns. As 
 a marine captain, he was employed for many 
 years subsequent to the publication of his large 
 octavo selection of 17'J5 until about the war of 
 1812. 
 
 " Freneau was widely known to a large circle of 
 our most prominent and patriotic New Yorkers. 
 His native city, with all his wanderings, was ever 
 uppermost in his mind and in his affections. 
 While in the employment of Jefferson, as a trans- 
 lator of languages in the department of state, upon 
 the organization of Congress, with Washington at 
 its head, he had the gratification of witnessing the 
 progress of improvement, and might have enjoyed 
 increased facilities had he not enlisted with an in- 
 
 discreet zeal as an advocate of the radical doc- 
 trines of the day. Freneau was, nevertheless, es- 
 teemed a true patriot; and his private worth, his 
 courteous manner, and his general bearing won 
 admiration with all parties. His pen was more 
 acrimonious than his heart. He was tolerant, 
 frank in expression, and not deficient in geniality. 
 He was highly cultivated in classical knowledge, 
 abounding in anecdotes of the revolutionary crisis, 
 and extensively acquainted with prominent cha- 
 racters. 
 
 " It were easy to record a long list of eminent 
 citizens who ever gave him a cordial welcome. 
 He was received with the warmest greetings by 
 the old soldier, Governor George Clinton. He, 
 also, in the intimacy of kindred feeling, found an 
 agreeable pastime with the learned Provoost, the 
 ! first regularly consecrated Bishop of the American 
 ' Protestant Episcopate, who himself had shoal- 
 1 dered a musket in the Revolution, and hence was 
 1 sometimes called the fighting bishop. They were 
 allied by classical tastes, a love of natural science, 
 I and ardor in the cause of liberty. With Gates 
 ! he compared the achievements of Monmouth with 
 those at Saratoga. With Col. Fish he reviewed 
 the capture of Yorktown ; with Dr. Mitchill he re- 
 hearsed, from his own sad experience, the phy- 
 sical sufferings and various diseases of the incar- 
 cerated patriots of the Jersey prison-ship; and 
 descanted on Italian poetry and the piscatory ec- 
 logues of Sannazarins. He, doubtless, furnished 
 ; Dr. Benjamin Dewitt with data for his funeral 
 I discourse on the remains of the 11,500 American 
 martyrs. With Pintard he could laud Horace 
 and talk largely of Paul Jones. With Major Fair- 
 I lie he discussed the tactics and chivalry of Baron 
 I Steuben. With Sylvanus Miller he compared notes 
 on the political clubs of IT'Jo -1810. He shared 
 ; Paine's visions of an ideal democracy. With De- 
 | witt Clinton and Cadwallader D. Colden he debat- 
 ed the projects of internal improvement and arti- 
 ficial navigation, based on the famous precedent 
 of the Languedoc canal. 
 
 " I had, when very young, read the poetry of 
 Freneau, and as we instinctively become attached 
 to the writers who first captivate our imagin- 
 ations, it was with much zest that I formed a 
 personal acquaintance with the revolutionary bard. 
 He was at that time about seventy-six years old, 
 when he first introduced himself to me in my 
 library. I gave him an earnest welcome. He 
 was somewhat below the ordinary height; in 
 person thin yet muscular, with a firm step, though 
 a little inclined to stoop; his countenance wore 
 traces of care, yet lightened with intelligence as 
 he spoke; he was mild in enunciation, neither 
 rapid nor slow, but clear, distinct, and emphatic. 
 His forehead was rather beyond the medium ele- 
 vation, his eyes a dark grey, occupying a socket 
 deeper than common; his hair must have onco 
 been beautiful, it was now thinned and of an iron 
 grey. He was free of all ambitious displays ; his 
 habitual expression was pensive. His dress might 
 have passed for that of a farmer. New York, the 
 city of his birth, was his most interesting theme ; 
 his collegiate career with Madison, next. His 
 story of many of his occasional poems was quite 
 romantic. As he had at command types and a 
 printing-press, when an incident of moment in the 
 Revolution occurred, he would retire for composi> 
 
334 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 tion, or find shelter under the shade of some tree, 
 indite his lyrics, repair to the press, set up his 
 types, and issue his productions. There was no 
 difficulty in versification with him. I told him 
 ■what I Lad heard Jeffrey, the Scotch Reviewer, I 
 say of his writings, that the time would arrive 
 when his poetry, like that of Hudibras, would 
 command a commentator like Gray. On some j 
 of the occasions when Freneau honored me with 
 a visit, we had within our circle one of my earliest 
 friends, that rare Knickerbocker, Gulian C. Ver- 
 planck. I need not add that the charm of my 
 interview with the bard was heightened by the 
 rich funds of antiquarian lore possessed by the 
 latter. 
 
 " It is remarkable how tenaciously Freneau pre- 
 served the acquisitions of his early classical stu- 
 dies, notwithstanding he had for many years, in 
 the after portion of his life, been occupied in pur- 
 suits so entirely alien to books. There is no por- 
 trait of the patriot Freneau ; he always firmly 
 declined the painter's art, and would brook no 
 'counterfeit presentment.' " 
 
 Some time after the conclusion of the war of j 
 1S12, a number of Freneau's MS. poem-, of which j 
 he had many, were consumed by fire, in the 
 destruction of his house at Mount Pleasant. 
 
 That he was not indifferent to his reputation, ! 
 the several collections of his writings prove, and 
 we learn from the venerable engraver on wood, 
 Alexander Anderson, that Freneau once applied 
 to him to calculate the cost of an illustrated 
 volume of the poems, which he found too great 
 for his purse.* 
 
 Freneau died Dec. 18, 1832.. The circum- 
 stances of his death were thus announced in the 
 Monmouth (Sew Jersey) Inquirer : — " Mr. Fre- 
 neau was in the village, and started, towards 
 evening, to go" home, about two miles. In attempt- 
 ing to go across he appears to have got lost and 
 mired in a bog meadow, where his lifeless corpse 
 was discovered yesterday morning. Captain 
 Freneau was a staunch "Whig in the time of the 
 Revolution, a good soldier, and a warm patriot. 
 The productions of his pen animated his country- 
 men in the darkest days of '76, and the effusions 
 of his muse cheered the desponding soldier as he 
 fought the battles of freedom." 
 
 The house which Freneau occupied at the time 
 of his death is still standing. It is about a mile 
 from Freehold. The house in which he lived 
 before he came to Freehold, and the old tavern 
 in which he and his club of friends met, are also 
 in existence at Middletowu Point.t 
 
 * Alexander Anderson, who still survives in a hale old age, 
 was born in April, 1775. near Peck Slip, in New York. He 
 studied medicine, and received his decree of Doctor of Medi- 
 cine from Columbia College, in 1790, delivering a dissertation j 
 on Chronic Mania upon the occasion. He preferred art to I 
 physic, and having already been a pupil of '• a universal 
 genius" of the times, John Roberts, entered upon the business 
 of wood-engraving. His copies of Bewick's engravings were 
 celebrated, and for the first quarter of the present century he 
 executed most of the better engravings then published, from the 
 illustrations for a Bible to the cuts of a primer and spelling- 
 book. His lights and shades were strongly marked, and he 
 worked with precision and effect. The collection of specimens 
 of his thousands of engravings in his scrap-books is a pleasing 
 and curious exhibition of the resources of booksellers in the 
 last generation. There is a notice of Anderson in Dunlnp's 
 Arte of Design, ii. p. 8, and his friend. Mr. Benson J. Lossing, 
 has recently paid him a handsome tribute in an article in the 
 Home Journal. 
 
 t The tavern has lately been repaired, and is now (1854) oc- 
 cupied as a private dwelling by Mr. Pittman, a dentist. 
 
 To this account of Freneau, we are enabled to 
 add a notice of his brother, who was settled in 
 South Carolina, at Charleston, from the pen of 
 Dr. Joseph Johnson, of that city. 
 
 " Peter Freneau was a younger brother of 
 Captain Philip Freneau. They were natives of 
 New Jersey ; but the first of their ancestors who 
 came to this part of the world, was called De 
 Fresneau, and settled in Connecticut, after effect- 
 ing his escape from the persecutions against the 
 Huguenots in France. In this province De Fres- 
 neau became the proprietor of a copper mine, 
 but being restrained by the Colonial Regulations 
 from smelting the ore, he shipped a load of it to 
 England, calculating on profitable returns. In 
 these expectations he was disappointed ; the ves- 
 sel was captured by a French cruiser ; the adven- 
 ture proved a total loss, and De Fresneau was so 
 much reduced that he could no longer work the 
 mine. By some means not well understood, this 
 property came into the possession of the State of 
 Connecticut, and became the site of their Peni- 
 tentiary. The excavations that had been made 
 for copper ore served extremely well for the 
 safe keeping of their convicts. 
 
 " After completing his education, Mr. Freneau 
 came to South Carolina, and soon attracted gene- 
 ral and favorable notice from those best qualified 
 for judging. He was elected Secretary of State, 
 and embraced the opportunity thus afforded for 
 securing to himself and Francis Bremar, the Sur- 
 veyor-General, grants for various tracts of land 
 then vacant. About the year 1795, he became 
 the editor and proprietor of the City Gazette, a 
 daily paper advocating the Democratic opinions 
 then prevailing in the South. He was associated 
 ■with Paine, an experienced printer, who took 
 charge of that department, and the whole work 
 was so well conducted, that it soon secured the 
 patronage of the state and city governments. On 
 the election of Mr. Jefferson to the Presidency, in 
 1801, it also obtained that of the general govern- 
 ment* Mr. Freneau was particularly well quali- 
 fied for the office of editor to such a paper. He 
 was indefatigable in his studies and collections 
 of matter, his style of writing was clear, com- 
 prehensive, and decided in advancing his own 
 opinions, but always liberal and just to those who 
 thought?otherwise. Besides a due knowledge of 
 Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, he had acquired so 
 much of the French, Spanish, Portuguese, and 
 Italian languages, as enabled him to read, select, 
 and translate from such publications, what other 
 papers could not procure, and rendered the cir- 
 culation of his the more extensive; but he could 
 not converse in either of those languages. 
 
 " "SVhen Mr. Paine left the concern, the paper 
 began to decline, and Mr. Freneau unfortunately 
 engaged in some commercial adventures, that dis- 
 tracted his usual attention to the office. He be- 
 came involved in a variety of ways, and in 1810 
 sold out his whole interest in the City Gazette. 
 
 " In person Mr. Freneau was tall, but so well 
 
 * In an unpublished letter addressed to Peter Freneau, 
 dated Washington, May 20, 1SCS, Jefferson incloses " a small 
 parcel of Egyptian rice" for plantation in South Carolina, and 
 reviews closely the state of parties, stating the policv of the 
 administration on appointments, assigning to the federalists 
 their proportional share of them — communicating with Fre- 
 neau in confidential terms, and looking to him for a support 
 of the government policy. 
 
PHILIP FilENEAU. 
 
 335 
 
 proportioned, that it was not remarked. His 
 features bore so strong a resemblance to those of 
 Charles James Fox, the celebrated English states- 
 man, that all were struck with the likeness who 
 had ever seen Mr. Fox, or compared his likeness 
 with Freneau. 
 
 " When Mr. Freneau parted with his interest 
 in the City Gazette, he endeavored to arrange his 
 intricate accounts and money concerns, but did 
 not succeed; he was still disappointed and ha- 
 rassed, lie then anxiously sought for retirement, 
 and having the lease of a saw-mill and cottage at 
 Pinckney's Ferry, he was tempted to visit them 
 early in October, 1813, before the autumnal 
 frosts had cleared the atmosphere of malaria. He 
 returned in good spirits, and apparently in good 
 health, but was attacked in a few days with the 
 bilious remittent, resulting from malaria, and 
 died on the tilth day of the disease, in the fifty- 
 seventh year of his age. 
 
 " Mr. Freneau was never married, he left no 
 relative except his brother Philip, and died insol- 
 vent." 
 
 The poems of Philip Freneau represent his 
 times, the war of wit and verse no less than of 
 sword and stratagem of the Revolution; and lie 
 superadds to this material a humorous, homely 
 simplicity peculiarly his own, in which he paints 
 the life of village rustics with their local manners 
 fresh about them, of days when tavern delights 
 were to be freely spoken of, before temperance 
 societies and Maine laws were thought of; when 
 men went to prison at the summons of inexorable 
 creditors, and when Connecticut deacons rushed 
 out of meeting to arrest and waylay the passing 
 Sunday traveller. When these humors of the day 
 were exhausted, and the impulses of patriotism 
 were gratified in song, when he had paid his re- 
 spects to Eivington and Hugh Gaine,* he solaced 
 
 * We have seen his treatment of Eivington {1111U, pp. 2S2, 8). 
 lie frequently employed his pen with Hugh Gaine's humors and 
 tergiversations. Hugh Gaine, a native of Ireland, commenced 
 the printing business in New York in 175 I. In 1752 he started 
 a newspaper. The New York Mercury, which appeared every 
 Monday. He soon after opened a book-store, with the sign of 
 the Bible and Crown, in Hanover square, which remained in 
 his hands for forty years — tiie crown, of course, disappearing 
 after the Revolution. On the approach of the British in 1770, 
 he removed his press to Newark, but soon after returned to 
 the city. His paper was discontinued on the departure of the 
 British. He received permission, on application to the legis- 
 lature, to remain in New York, where he continued until his 
 death, April 25, 18 ! j7, at the age of eighty-one. Dr. Francis, in 
 his paper on Christopher Colles, tells a story of Freneau meet- 
 ing Gaiae at his book-store : — " While on one of his visits at 
 Gaine's, a customer saluted him loudly by name, the sound of 
 which arrested the attention of the old Royalist, who, lift- 
 ing up his eyes, interrogated him — ' Is your name Freueau T 
 * Yes, 1 answered the Republican poet. ' Philip Freneau ?' 
 rejoined Gaine. 'Yes, sir; the same.' 'Then, sir, 1 warmly 
 uttered Gaine, 'you are a very clever fellow. Let me have 
 the pleasure of taking you by the hand. Will you walk round 
 the corner and join ine in our parlor? We will take aglass 
 of wine together. You, sir, have L'iven me and my paper 
 a wide ami lasting reputation.' 11 There is a good story of 
 Gaine which we have never seen in print, showing his dis- 
 taste for Frenchmen, and the manner in which he was con- 
 founded witli a barber. On one occasion, when there was 
 a French frigate in the.Iuubor of New York, Huggins, the 
 barber, whose poetical advertisements contributed largely to 
 the small humors of his day, visited the vessel, and on tak- 
 ing leave, politely left his card wilh the officers, hoping for 
 the honor of a visit. &c. These gentlemen one day larided, 
 and making inquiry for Monsieur Hu-ganes — as they pro- 
 nounced the name — were directed to the old anti-Gallic book- 
 seller, who turned the tables upon them by a reference to 
 barber Huggins. Hugh Gaine was a pattern of old Dutch 
 steadiness, and would never give a note in payment. A wager 
 was once made that a note of hand would be got from him, — 
 aad gained by a very low otTer of goods on the condition of a 
 
 himself with higher themes, in the version of an 
 ode of Horace, a visionary meditation on the anti- 
 quities of America, or a sentimental effusion on the 
 loves of Sappho. These show the fine tact and 
 delicate handling of Freneau, who deserves much 
 more consideration in this respect from critics 
 than he has ever received. A writer from whom 
 the fastidious Campbell, in his best day, thought 
 it worth while to borrow an entire line, is worth 
 looking into. It is from his Indian Burying 
 Ground, the last image of that fine visionary 
 stanza : — 
 
 By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, 
 In vestments for the chase array'd, 
 The hunter still the deer pursues, 
 The huuter and the deer — a shade. 
 
 Campbell has given the line a rich setting in the 
 ''lovelorn fantasy" of C Conor's Child: — 
 
 Bright as the bow that spans the storm, 
 
 In Erin's yellow vesture clad, 
 A son of light — a lovely form, 
 
 He comes and makes her glad; 
 Now on the grass-green turf he sits, 
 
 His tassel'd horn beside him laid ; 
 Now o'er the hills in ehaee he flits, 
 
 The hunter and the deer a shade. 
 
 There is also a line of Sir Walter Scott which 
 has its prototype in Freneau. In the introduc- 
 tion to the third canto of JIarmion, in the apo- 
 strophe to the Duke of Brunswick, we read — 
 
 Lamented chief! — not thine the power 
 To save in that presumptuous hour, 
 When Prussia hurried to the field. 
 And snatch'd the spear but left the shield. 
 
 In Freneau's poem on the heroes of Eutaw, we 
 have this stanza : — 
 
 They saw their injur'd country's woe; 
 
 The flaming town, the wasted field ; 
 Then rushed to meet the insulting foe ; 
 
 They took the spear — but left the shield. 
 
 An anecdote, which the late Henry Brevoort 
 was accustomed to relate of hjs visit to Scott, 
 affords assurance that the poet was really indebted 
 to Freneau, and that lie would not, on a proper 
 occasion, have hesitated to acknowledge it. Mr. 
 Brevoort was asked by Scott respecting the auth< >r- 
 ship of certain verses on the battle of Entaw, which 
 he had seen in a magazine, and had by heart, and 
 which he knew were American. He was told 
 that they were by Freneau, when he remarked, 
 the poem is as fine a tiling as there is of the kind 
 in the language. Scott also praised one of the 
 Indian poems. 
 
 We might add to these instances, that in 1700, 
 Freneau, in his poetical correspondence between 
 Nanny the Philadelphia House-Keeper, and Nab- 
 by her friend in New York, upon the subject of 
 the removal of Congress to the former city, had 
 hit upon some of the peculiar pleasantry of 
 Moore's Epistles in verse of the present century. 
 
 Freneau surprises us often by his neatness of 
 
 note in payment; but the holder was knocked up after bed- 
 time by a visit from Hugh Gaine. He had brought the cash 
 with him and must have the note. He had never given one 
 before in his life, he said, and could not sleep with it on his 
 mind. 
 
386 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 execution and skill in versification. He handles 
 a triple rhymed. stanza in the octosyllabic mea- 
 sure particularly well. His appreciation of nature 
 is tender and sympathetic, one of the pure springs 
 which fed the more boisterous current of his 
 humor when he came out among men to deal 
 with quackery, pretence, and injustice. But what 
 is perhaps most worthy of notice in Freneau is 
 his originality, the instinct with which his genius 
 marked out a path for itself in those days when 
 most writers were leaning upon the old foreign 
 school of Pope and Darwin. He was not afraid 
 of home things and incidents. Dealing with 
 facts and realities, and the life around him, wher- 
 ever lie was, his writings have still an interest 
 where the vague expressions of other poets are 
 forgotten. His poems may be little read now — 
 they are so rare that we have tasked the resources 
 of booksellers, and put friendship to the proof, to 
 draw together the several editions to prepare this 
 article — but they will be surely revived and che- 
 rished among the historic aud poetic literature 
 of the land. The tree which plants its roots most 
 firmly in the present, will survive the longest 
 with posterity. The genius which has no local 
 habitation for its muse, no personality or relation 
 to time and place to-day (and how much poetry 
 is there thrown upon the public which it is im- 
 possible to locate), will be, in sporting language, 
 nowhere to-morrow. 
 
 It is a little remarkable that four of the most 
 original writers whom the country has produced 
 have received the least attention from critics and 
 magazinists — Francis Ilopkinson, John Trumbull, 
 Brackenridge, and Freneau. In the very few 
 notices to be met with of the last, he is for the 
 most part mentioned in an apologetic tone — as if 
 he were a mere writer of doggrel, low in taste 
 and poor in expression. Even an admirer, who 
 compliments him in verse, has something of 
 this : — 
 
 Let Freneau live though Flattery's baleful tongue 
 Too early tuned his youthful lyre to song, 
 And ripe old age, in ill-directed zeal, 
 Has made an enervated last appeal : 
 His song could fire the sailor on the wave, 
 Raise up the coward, — animate the brave, 
 While wit and satire cast their darts around, 
 And fools and cowards tremble at the sound. 
 Although Ambition never soar'd to claim 
 The meed of polished verse, or classic fame, 
 And caustic critics honour, but condemn, 
 A strain of feeling, but a style too tame. 
 Let the old Bard, whose patriot voice has fann'd 
 The fire of Freedom that redeemed our land, 
 Live on the scroll with kindred names that swell 
 The page of history, where their honours dwell ; 
 With full applause, in honour to his age, 
 Dismiss the veteran poet from the stage, ' 
 Crown his last exit with distinguished praise, 
 Aud kindly hide his baldness with his bays.* 
 
 How his contemporaries could sometimes ap- 
 preciate him, is shown in an epistle in Col. 
 Parke's volume of Horatian translations, and 
 other poems, published at Philadelphia in 1786. 
 In the rarity of these tributes, it is worth quot- 
 ing : — 
 
 • American Bards, Phila., 1820. 
 
 TO MR. PHILIP FRENEAU, OS HIS VOLUME OF EXCELLENT 
 POEMS, PRINTED BY ME. BAILEY. 
 
 " Difficile est aatiram non scribere.'"' — Juv. 
 Tho' I know not your person, I well know your 
 
 merit, 
 Your satires admire — your muse of true spirit; 
 Who reads them must smde at poetical story, 
 Except the k — g's printer, or some such like tory; 
 Sir William, Sir Harry, and would-be Sir John, 
 Cornwallis, the Devil, those bucks of the ton; 
 Black Dunrnore and Wallace with sun-setting-nose, 
 Who steals hogs and sheep, secure — under the Rose* 
 But a fig for the anger of such petty rogues, 
 To the devil we pitch them without shoes or 
 
 brogues! 
 Pythag'ras' choice scheme my belief now cou- 
 
 trouls, • 
 
 I sign to his creed — transmigration of souls; 
 Euphorbas's shield he no doubt did employ, 
 And bravely let blood on the plains of old Troy : 
 The souls of great Jlartb'ro' and warlike Eugene 
 Conspicuous in Washington's glory are seen : 
 Sage Plato beams wisdom from Franklin's rich 
 
 brain, 
 And sky-taught Sir Isaac is seen here again. 
 But Hugh when he migrates may daily be found 
 Cracking boues in a kitchen in form of a hound ; 
 When his compeer shall die — while no Christina 
 
 shall weep him, 
 Old Pluto, below, for a devil will keep him ; 
 Unless he's sent up on some hasty dispatch, 
 The Whigs to abuse, and more falsehoods to hatch. 
 Those red-jerkiu'd fops, whom your muse I've heard 
 
 sing, _ v 
 
 From Hounslow's bold heroes successively spring; 
 From Tyburn they tumble as supple as panders, 
 Then migrate straightway into knights and com- 
 manders. 
 But you, worthy poet, whose soul-cutting pen 
 In gall paints the crimes of all time-serving men, 
 The fiend of corruption, the wretch of an hour, 
 The star-garter'd villain, the scoundrel in pow'r ; 
 From souls far unlike may announce your ascension. 
 The patriot all-worthy, above bribe or pension, 
 The martyr who suffer'd for liberty's sake 
 Grim dungeons, more horrid than hell's bitter lake: 
 Your name to bright honour, the spirits shall hit, 
 That glow'd in the bosoms of Churchill and Swift. 
 
 And wdien you are number'd, alas! with the dead, 
 Your works by true wits will forever be read, 
 Who, pointing the finger, shall pensively show 
 The lines^that were written, alas! by Freneau. 
 Philadelphia, June 8, 1786. 
 
 It is not to be denied, however, that Frenean 
 was sometimes careless. He lived and thought 
 with improvidence. His jests are sometimes 
 misdirected; and his verses are unequal in exe- 
 cution. Yet it is not too much to predict that 
 through the genuine nature of some of his pro- 
 ductions, and the historic incidents of others, 
 all that he wrote will yet be called for, and 
 find favor in numerous popular editions. 
 
 ADVICE TO AUTnOES. 
 
 By the Late Mr. Robert Slender. 
 
 There are few writers of books in this new world, 
 and amongst these very few that deal in works of 
 imagination, and, I am sorry to say, fewer still that 
 have any success attending their lucubrations. Per- 
 haps, however, the world thinks justly on this sub- 
 ject. The productions of the most brilliant imagi- 
 
 * He commanded the Eose sIood. 
 
PHILIP FKENEAU. 
 
 337 
 
 nation are at best but mere beautiful flowers, that 
 may amuse us in a walk through a garden in a fine 
 afternoon, but can by no means be expected to en- 
 gage much of that time -which God and nature de- 
 signed to be spent in very different employments. 
 Iq a country, which two hundred years ago was 
 peopled only by savages, and where the government 
 has ever, in effect, since the first establishment of the 
 white men in these parts, been no other than repub- 
 lican, it is really wonderful there should be any polite 
 original authors at all in any line, especially when it 
 is considered, that according to the common course 
 of things, any particular nation or people must have 
 arrived to, or rather passed, their meridian of opu- 
 lence and refinement, before they consider the pro- 
 fessors of the fine arts in any other light than a nui- 
 sance to the community. This is evidently the case 
 at present iu our age and country ; all you have to 
 do then, my good friends, is to graft your authorship 
 upon some other calling, or support di'ooping genius 
 by the assistance of some mechanical employment, 
 in the same manner as the helpless ivy takes hold of 
 the vigorous oak, and cleaves to it for support — I 
 mean to say, in plain language, that you may make 
 something by weaving garters, or mending old sails, 
 when an Epic poem would be your utter destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 But I see no reason that, because we are all striv- 
 ing to live by the same i>!le trade, we should suffer 
 ourselves to be imbittered against each other, like a 
 fraternity of rival mechanics in the same street. 
 Authors (such I mean as are not possessed of for- 
 tunes) are at present considered as the dregs of the 
 community: their situation and prospects are truly 
 humiliating, and any other set of men in a similar 
 state of calamitous adversity would unite together 
 for their mutual defence, instead of worrying and 
 lampooning each other for the amusement of the 
 illiberal vulgar. And I cannot do otherwise than 
 freely declare, that where the whole profits of a 
 company amount to little or nothing at all, there 
 ought not, in the nature of things, to be any quar- 
 relling about shares and dividends. 
 
 As to those authors who have lately exported 
 themselves from Britain and Ireland, and boast that 
 they have introduced the Muses among us 6ince the 
 conclusion of the late war, I really believe them to 
 be a very good-natured set of gentlemen, notwith- 
 standing they, in the course of the last winter, called 
 me poetaster and scribbler, and some other names 
 still more unsavoury. They are, however, excuse- 
 able in treating the American authors as inferiors; 
 a political and a literary independence oftheirnation 
 being two very different things; the first was ac- 
 complished in about seven years, the latter will not 
 be completely effected, perhaps, in as many centu- 
 ries. It is my opinion, nevertheless, that a duty 
 ought to be laid upon all important authors, the nett 
 proceeds of which should be appropriated to the be- 
 nefit of real American writers, when become old and 
 helpless, and no longer able to wield the pen to ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 If a coach or a chariot constructed in Britain, pays 
 an impost of twenty pounds at the custom-house, 
 why should not at least twice that sum be laid upon 
 all imported authors who are able to do twice as 
 much mischief with their rumbling pindarie odes, 
 and gorgeous apparatus of strophes, antistrophes, 
 and recitativos ? I, for my own part, am clearly of 
 opinion, that these gentlemen should be taxed ; not 
 that I would wish to nip their buds of beauty with 
 the untimely frost of excise, but merely to teach 
 them that our own natural manufactures ought to 
 be primarily attended to and encouraged. 
 
 I will now, gentlemen, with your leave, lay down 
 
 vol. I.— 22 
 
 a few simple rules, to which, in my opinion, every 
 genuine author will make no difficulty to conform. 
 
 1. "When you write a book for the public, have 
 nothing to do with Epistles dedicatory. They were 
 first invented by slaves, and have been continued by 
 fools and sycophants. I would not give a farthing 
 more for a book on account of its being patronized 
 by all the noblemen or crowned heads in Christen- 
 dom. If it does not possess intrinsic merit enough 
 to protect itself, and force its way through the 
 world, their supposed protection will be of no avail: 
 besides, by this ridiculous practice you degrade the 
 dignity authorial, the honor of authorship, which 
 ought evermore to be uppermost in your thoughts. 
 The silly unthinking author addresses a great man 
 in the style of a servile dependent, whereas a real 
 author, and a man of true genius, has upon all occa- 
 sions a bold, disinterested, and daring confidence in 
 himself, and considers the common cant of adulation 
 to the sons of fortune as the basest and most abomi- 
 nable of all prostitution. 
 
 2. Be particularly careful to avoid all connexion 
 with doctors of law and divinity, masters of arts, 
 professors of colleges, and in general all those that 
 wear square black caps. A mere scholar and an 
 original author are two animals as different from 
 each other as a fresh and salt water sailor. There 
 has been an old rooted enmity between them from 
 the earliest ages, and which it is likely will for ever 
 continue. The scholar is not unlike that piddling 
 orator, who, eold and inanimate, not roused into ac- 
 tion by the impelling flame of inspiration, can only 
 pronounce the oration he has learned by rote ; the 
 real author, on the contrary, is the nervous Demos- 
 thenes, who stored with an immensity of ideas, awa- 
 kened within him he knows not how, has them at 
 command upon every occasion; and must therefore 
 be disregarded as a madman or an enthusiast by the 
 narrow and limited capacity, as well as the natural 
 self-sufficiency of the other. 
 
 3. It is risking a great deal to propose a sub- 
 scription for an original work. The world will bo 
 ready enough to anticipate your best endeavours ; 
 and that which has been long and anxiously ex- 
 pected, rarely or never comes up to their expecta- 
 tions at last. 
 
 i. If you are so poor that you are compelled to 
 live in some miserable garret or cottage ; do not 
 Repine, but give thanks to heaven that you are not 
 forced to pass your life iu a tub, as was the fate of 
 Diogenes of old. Few authors in any country are 
 rich, because a man must first be reduced to a state 
 of penury before he will commence author. Being 
 poor therefore in externals, take care, gentlemen, 
 that you say or do nothing that may argue a po- 
 verty of spirit. Riches, we have often heard, are by 
 no means the standard of the value of a man. Tins 
 maxim the world allows to be true, and yet contra- 
 dicts it every hour and minute in the year. For- 
 tune most commonly bestows wealth and abundance 
 upon fools and idiots ; and men of the dullest natu- 
 ral parts are, notwithstanding, generally best calcu- 
 lated to acquire large estates, and hoard up immense 
 sums from small beginnings. 
 
 5. Never borrow money of any man, for if you 
 
 i should once be mean enough to fall intosuch a habit, 
 you will find yourselves unwelcome giiests every 
 
 j where. If upon actual trial you are at length con- 
 vinced you possess no abilities that will command ■ 
 the esteem, veneration, or gratitude of mankind, 
 apply yourselves without loss of time to some of the 
 lower arts, since it is far more honourable to be a 
 
 I good bricklayer or a skilful weaver than an indiffer- 
 ent poet. If you cannot at all exist without now 
 and then gratifying your itch for scribbling, follow 
 
338 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 my example who can both weave stockings and 
 write poems. But, if you really possess that spright- 
 liness of fancy and elevation of soul which alone 
 constitute an author, do not on that account be 
 troublesome to your friends. A little reflection will 
 
 Eoint out other means to extract money from the 
 ands and pockets of your fellow citizens than by 
 poorly borrowing what, perhaps, you will never be 
 able to repay. 
 
 6. Never engage in any business as an inferior or 
 understrapper. I cannot endure to see an author 
 debase his profession so far as to submit to be second 
 or third in any office or emploj'ment whatever. If 
 fortune, or the ill taste of the public, compels you 
 even to turn shallopmau on the Delaware, let it be 
 your first care to have the command of the boat. 
 Beggary itself, with all its hideous apparatus of rags 
 and misery, becomes at once respectable whenever it 
 exhibits the least token of independence of spirit and 
 a single spark of laudable ambition. 
 
 1. If you are in low circumstances, do not forget 
 that there is such a thing in the world as a decent 
 pride. They are only cowards and miscreants that 
 poverty can render servile in their behaviour. Your 
 naughtiness should always rise in proportion to the 
 wretchedness and desperation of your circumstances. 
 If you have only a single guinea in the world be 
 complaisant and obliging to everyone: if you are 
 absolutely destitute of a shilling, immediately assume 
 the air of a despot, pull off your hat to no one, let 
 your discourse, in every company, turn upon the 
 vanity of riches, the insignificancy of the great men 
 of the earth, the revolution of empires, and the final 
 consummation of all things. By such means you 
 will at least conceal a secret of some importance to 
 yourself — that you have not a shilling in the world 
 to pay for your last night's lodging. 
 
 8. Should you ever be prevailed upon to dedicate 
 your book to any great man or woman, consider 
 first, whether the tenor and subject of it be such as 
 may in some measure coincide with the age, temper, 
 education, business, and general conversation of the 
 person whose patronage is requested. A friend of 
 mine once committed a great error on this score, 
 lie wrote a bawd}' poem, and dedicated it to the 
 principal in the department of finance. 
 
 9. Never make a present of your works to great 
 men. If they do not think them worth purchasing, 
 trust me, they will never think them worth reading." 
 
 10. If fortune seems absolutely determined to 
 starve you, and you can by no means whatever make 
 your works sell ; to keep up as much as in you lies, 
 the expiring dignity of authorship, do not take to 
 drinking, gambling, or bridge-building as some have 
 done, thereby bringing the trade of authorship into 
 disrepute ; but retire to some uninhabited island or 
 desert, and there, at your leisure, end your life with 
 decency. 
 
 The above is all that has yet been found written by 
 Robert Slender relative to authors and authorship — 
 and further the copyist at this time sayeth.not. 
 
 DIRECTION'S FOP. COirKTSniP. 
 
 Hive eadem ut sciret, quid non/aeiebat Amyntas ? — Yip.g. 
 The parson of our parish used to say, in his hours 
 of convivial gaiety, that nothing puzzles a man of 
 true delicacy more, tlianhow to make the first advances 
 to the woman he loves, with a becoming propriety of 
 sentiment, lane/uayc, and behaviour. 
 
 I must confess I am somewhat of his opinion in 
 this matter, and having in my time observed many 
 a promising alliance broken off by a mere idle inat- 
 tention to what even a very moderate share of un- 
 derstanding ought always to dictate upon these 
 
 occasions, I shall, for the benefit of those whom it 
 may concern, set down a few easy rules, by the as- 
 sistance of which people may at least prevent them- 
 selves from becoming personally ridiculous, if they 
 cannot succeed to the utmost of their wishes in other 
 respects. 
 
 "Wnen you take a serious liking to a young woman, 
 never discover your passion to her by way of letter. 
 It will either give the lady an idea that you are a 
 bashful booby, or that you have not any address in 
 conversation ; botli which defects are sufficient to 
 ruin you in the estimation of any woman of only 
 tolerable good sense. 
 
 During the time of courtship be careful never to 
 discourse with the lady upon serious subjects, or 
 matters that are not strictly and immediately perti- 
 nent to the purpose you are upon. If she asks you 
 what news, you must not tell her a long story out 
 of the Dutch or English gazettes about the decline 
 of trade, the fall of stocks, or the death of Mynheer 
 Van der Possum. She looks for no such answers. 
 You must rather relate a melancholy tale of two or 
 three young gentlemen of fortune and handsome ex- 
 pectations that have lately drowned themselves in 
 the Schuylkill, or thrown themselves headlong from 
 their third story windows, and been dashed to pieces 
 on the pavement for the sake of a certain inexorable 
 fair one, whose name you cannot recollect; but the 
 beauty and shafts of whose eyes these poor young 
 gentlemen could not possibly withstand. Such in- 
 telligence as this will instantly put her into good 
 humour ; and upon the strength of that lie alone, you 
 will be allowed liberties with her person that a re- 
 capitulation of all the morality in Tillotson, or the 
 real news of five hundred gazettes, would not so 
 effectually enable you to take. 
 
 I would advise you never to make use of the dic- 
 tatorial style till you are perfectly sure of your Dul- 
 cinea ; and that period depends in a great measure 
 upon your own prudence. Till then, you must seem 
 to give the preference to her judgment in all matters 
 that happen to be discussed, and submit to be in- 
 structed by her in whatever she apprehends you do 
 not understand. Your trade or occupation in life 
 she takes for granted you are perfectly acquainted 
 with; and remember never to say a word on that 
 score in her hearing, unless your calling happens to 
 have no spice of vulgarity about it. If, however, 
 you are a governor of an island, or happen to be 
 some considerable officer of state, 3011 may fre- 
 quently make professional allusions, as her vanity 
 will be gratified thereby ; and women, we all know, 
 are naturally fond of power. 
 
 Have a care that you do not pester her with de- 
 scriptions of the Alps, the Appennines, and the river 
 Po. A lady is not supposed to know anything of 
 such matters ; besides, you must be a very cold lover 
 if those far-fetched things can command your atten- 
 tion a moment in the company of a fine woman. 
 Whatever she thinks proper to assert, it is your 
 business to defend, and prove to be true. If she 
 says black is white, it is not for men in your proba- 
 tionary situation to contradict her. On the con- 
 trary, you must swear and protest that she is right; 
 and, in demonstrating it, be very cautious of using 
 pedantic arguments, making nice logical distinctions, 
 or affecting hard and unintelligible terms. 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 339 
 
 I hold it to be extremely dangerous to make jocu- 
 lar remarks upon any of the inferior parts of the 
 lady's dress. The head-dress, indeed, custom and 
 female courtesy permits us to treat "with a little 
 more freedom ; but even this requires great care and 
 a nice judgment, or you are sure to offend. Above 
 all things never mention the words petticoat, gar- 
 ters or shoes in her presence. I once, in my youth- 
 ful days, introduced a friend of mine to a young lady, 
 as a preliminary to future connexions. I remember 
 he was violently in love with her, and would almost 
 have given his right arm to have had peaceable pos- 
 session. But he ruined all by his unlucky choice of 
 a subject in his very first conversation. "Madam," 
 said he, (thinking to be very smart) " I have some 
 fault to find with your shoes'." The lady blushed — 
 [I endeavoured to turn the conversation another 
 way, but found it impossible.] — "Madam," (said he 
 again) " you must permit me to criticise a little upon 
 your shoes 1 the toes are too round, the straps too 
 short for the oval of the buckle, and the heels appear 
 to me at least two inches higher than they ought 
 to be." 
 
 Now there was no great harm in all this ; the con- 
 sequence, however, was, that the lady immediately 
 called up the footman, and ordered him to conduct 
 the gentleman down stairs. I cannot think (said 
 she) of being addressed by a man, who, from his dis- 
 course, appears evidently to have been bred up no- 
 thing more than a simple shoemaker; and what is 
 worse, will forever continue so! 
 
 When you are courting a young lady, be careful 
 never to send her any presents that are very easily 
 to be come at, or such as particularly appertain to 
 your own shop or line of business. A certain French 
 tobacconist of some fortune fell in love with a girl of 
 considerable merit and beauty, but having never 
 turned his attention much to the gay world, he was 
 not so well acquainted with what is called the eti- 
 quette of polite life as Frenchmen in general are. 
 By way of introducing himself to the lady he sent 
 her his compliments, a letter full of love, and a 
 basket of cut tobacco, to the chewing and smoking of 
 which he himself was extravagantly addicted; and 
 therefore very rationally concluded that the whole 
 world ought to do the same. 
 
 The lady returned the tobacco by the same ser- 
 vant that brought it, with some expressions of con- 
 tempt and indignation ; as the present seemed to 
 imply, that she was fond of smoking and chewing 
 this very vulgar and nauseous weed. The French- 
 man, fired with resentment upon seeing his ill-judged 
 present returned, then sat down and wrote the fol- 
 lowing billet by way of answer : 
 
 " Vat ! you send home the tabac ? — den vat shall I 
 send in reverse [return] — You will have me send my 
 own heart? dat I canned en present — adieu." 
 
 He soon after enquired of one of the lady's rela- 
 tions what she was particularly fond of — some one 
 answered, soft cheese. 
 
 He accordingly purchased a large cheese of an 
 excellent quality, and, to show that lie was in every 
 sense her slave, carried it to her himself upon his 
 shoulder. The lady, you may be sure, could do no 
 less than smile. 
 
 " Why you laugh, lady ? Mademoiselle, en verite, 
 you be in one tres-agreeable good humour, pardie t" 
 
 I am laughing, said the lady, to think you are 
 turned cheesemonger ! It is almost needless to say, 
 that both he and his cheese were instantly dismissed 
 the house for ever. 
 
 If it can possibly be avoided, never, in the houra 
 of courtship, let your discourse turn upon anything 
 relative to female anatomy. 
 
 Few young ladies can ever forgive the man that is 
 found guilty of only insinuating in company, that the 
 sex have anything to do with materiality. What- 
 ever, therefore, may be your private opinion, you 
 must, while in their society, be an absolute imma- 
 terialist in regard to the rational female world. 
 Perhaps, an instance may sufficiently illustrate my 
 meaning. 
 
 A certain juvenile lady of acknowledged good 
 sense and beauty, some time ago had the misfortune 
 to fall out of her coach, and broke no less than three 
 of her ribs on the left side, dislocated one of her hips, 
 and considerably injured her left shoulder, &c. 
 This was for some days a topic of public conversa- 
 tion. Dick Prettyman, whom I have mentioned 
 upon another occasion, was at that time paying his 
 addresses to Miss Angelica Evergreen. Upon her 
 enquiring of Dick, one afternoon, the particulars of 
 this untoward accident, he was silly enough to blurt 
 I out in plain language before a polite assembly of 
 j young females, that " the lady had fallen out of the 
 coach topsy-turvy, had broken three of the best and 
 I strongest ribs in her whole body, had considerably 
 I damaged one of her hips, and that her legs, etc., had 
 not escaped entirely without injury." The company 
 blushed up to the eyes, unfurled their fans, and a 
 general confusion took place; till one of the most 
 resolute of the ladies peeped from behind her fan, 
 and exclaimed, " Fie, Mr. Prettyman ! have you been 
 bred up in a hogstye, sir, to talk in this scandalous 
 manner in the presence of ladies?" 
 
 He was then turned out of the room by unani- 
 mous consent ; and this small inattention to a proper 
 decorum in conversation had very nearly ruined his 
 expectations. I remember it was not till after a 
 long and sincere repentance that he reinstated him- 
 self in Miss Angelica's favour. 
 
 Now, had he been a man of sense and breeding he 
 would have related the disaster in this manner: 
 
 " The chariot was driving along with vast rapi- 
 dity, pomposity, and an ineffable display of gran- 
 deur, when suddenly one of the rotatory supporters, 
 commonly called wheels, struck a post, thro' the 
 carelessness of the celestial charioteer, and com- 
 pletely overturned this most elegant and awful ma- 
 chine; that divine creature, Miss Myrtilla Myrtle- 
 bones, then tumbled out upon the dusty pavement, 
 which, I will be bold to say, never before received 
 so heavenly and sky-bespangled a burden. Her 
 guardian angel, it seems, was at that moment ne- 
 glecting his duty. She fell — and, lamentable! — 
 that exquisitely delicate frame, which the immortal 
 Jupiter himself had put together with such won- 
 derful excess of art; that heavenly frame, I say, 
 was considerably disordered by so rude and severe 
 a shock." 
 
 Such a representation of matters, though, in rea- 
 lity, giving very little information in itself, would 
 have thrown the whole female circle into the most 
 charming humour in the world ; whereas the vulgar 
 way in which Dick told it was only calculated for 
 the ears of the surgeon. 
 
 LINES OCCASIONED BY A VISIT. TO AN OLD INDIAN BURYING - 
 GROUND. 
 
 In spite of all the learn'd have said 
 
 I still my old opinion keep ; 
 The posture that we give the dead 
 
 Points out the soul's eternal sleep. 
 
 Not so the ancients of these lands ; — 
 The Indian, when from life releas'd, 
 
340 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Again is seated ■with his friends, 
 And shares again the joyous feast. 
 
 His imag'd birds, and painted bowl, 
 And veu'son, for a journey drest, 
 
 Bespeak the nature of the soul, 
 Activity, that "wants no rest. 
 
 His bow for action ready bent, 
 And arrows, with a head of bone, 
 
 Can only mean that life is spent, 
 And. not the finer essence gone. 
 
 Thou, Btranger, that shalt come this way. 
 No fraud upon the dead commit, 
 
 Yet, mark the swelling turf, and say. 
 They do not lie, but here they sit. 
 
 Here, still a lofty rock remains. 
 
 On which the curious eye may trace 
 
 (Now wasted half by wearing rains) 
 The fancies of a ruder race. 
 
 Here, still an aged elm aspires, 
 
 Beneath whose far projecting shade 
 
 (And which the shepherd still admires) 
 The children of the forest play'd. 
 
 There oft a restless Indian queen, 
 (Pale Marian with her braided hair} 
 
 And many a barbarous form is seen • 
 To chide the man that lingers there. 
 
 By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews. 
 In vestments for the chace array'd, 
 
 The hunter still the deer pursues, 
 The hunter and the deer — a shade. 
 
 And long shall timorous Fancy see 
 The painted chief, and pointed spear, 
 
 And reason's self shall bow the knee 
 To shadows and delusions here. 
 
 THE INDIAN STUDENT J OK, FOKCE OF NATURE. 
 
 Rura mild et rigid placeanl in vaUih-us anwws : 
 Flmviina arnem, syhiasque ingloriit-s. 
 
 Vino. Gcorg. n. 4S3. 
 
 From Susquehanna's utmost springs 
 
 Where savage tribes pursue their game. 
 
 His blanket tied with yellow strings, 
 A shepherd of the forest came. 
 
 Not long before, a wandering priest 
 Express'd his wish, with visage sad — 
 " Ah, why (he cry'd) in Satan's waste, 
 Ah, why detain so fine a lad ? 
 
 " In Yanky land there stands a town 
 
 "Where learning may be purchas'd low — 
 Exchange his blanket for a gown, 
 And let the lad to college go." — 
 
 From long debate the Council rose, 
 
 And viewing Shalum's tricks with joy, 
 To Harvard hall* o'er wastes of snows, 
 
 They sent the copper-colour'd boy. 
 One generous chief a bow supply' d, 
 
 This gave a shaft, and that a skin ; 
 The feathers, in vermillion dy'd. 
 
 Himself did from a turkey win : 
 
 Thus dress'd so gay, he took his way 
 O'er barren hills, alone, alone ! 
 
 His guide a star, he wander'd far. 
 His pillow every night a stone. 
 
 At last he came, with leg so lame, 
 
 Where learned men talk heathen Greek, 
 
 And Hebrew lore is gabbled o'er, 
 To please the muses, twice a week. 
 
 * Harvard College, at Cambridge in Massachusetts. 
 
 Awhile he writ, awhile he read, 
 
 Awhile he learn'd the grammar rules — 
 i- A n Indian savage so well bred 
 
 Great credit promis'd to their schools. 
 
 Some thought he would in law excel, 
 Some said in physic he would shine;' 
 
 And one that knew him passing well, 
 Beheld, in him, a sound divine. 
 
 But those of more discerning eye 
 
 Even then could other prospects show, 
 
 And saw him lay his Virgil by 
 To wander with his dearer bow. 
 
 The tedious hours of study spent, 
 The heavy-moulded lecture done, 
 
 He to the woods a hunting went, 
 But sigh'd to see the setting sun. 
 
 No mystic wonders fir'd his mind ; 
 
 He sought to gain no learn'd degree, 
 But only sense enough to find 
 
 The squirrel in the hollow tree. , 
 
 The shady bank, the purling stream, 
 The woody wild his heart possess'd, 
 
 The dewy lawn, his morning dream 
 In Fancy's gayest colours dress'd. 
 
 " And why (he cry'd) did I forsake 
 
 My native wood for gloomy walls; 
 The silver stream, the limpid lake 
 For musty books and college halls. 
 
 " A little could my wants supply — 
 
 Can wealth and honour give me more ? 
 Or, will the sylvan god deny 
 
 The humble treat he gave before ? 
 
 " Let Seraphs reach the bright abode, 
 And heaven's sublimest mansions see — 
 I only bow to Nature's God — 
 
 The Land of Shades will do for me. 
 
 " These dreadful secrets of the sky 
 Alarm my soul with chilling fear — 
 Do planets in their orbits fly, 
 
 And is the earth, indeed, a sphere? 
 
 "Let planets still their aims pursue, 
 And comets round creation run — 
 In him my faithful friend I view, 
 The image of my God — the Sun. 
 
 " Where Nature's ancient forests grow, 
 
 And mingled laurel never fades, 
 My heart is fixed, — and I must go 
 To die among my native shades." 
 
 He spoke, and to the western springs, 
 (His gown discharg'd, his money spent) 
 
 His blanket tied with yellow strings, 
 The shepherd of the forest went. 
 
 Returning to the rural reign 
 
 The Indians welcom'd him with joy; 
 
 The council took him home again, 
 And bless'd the copper-colour'd boy. 
 
 TTIE DYING INDIAN. 
 
 Dcbeinw morti nos, nosiraque. 
 On yonder lake I spread the sail no more [ 
 Yigour, and youth, and active days are past — 
 Relentless demons urge me to that shore 
 On whose black forests all the dead are cast: 
 Ye solemn train, prepare the funeral song, 
 For I must go to shades below, 
 Where all is strange, and all is new ; 
 Companion to the airy throng, 
 
 What solitary streams, 
 
 In dull and dreary dreams, 
 All melancholy, must I rove along I 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 341 
 
 To what strange lands must Shalum take his way ! 
 Groves of the dead departed mortals trace ; 
 No deer along those gloomy forests stray, 
 No huntsmen there take pleasure in the ehace, 
 But all are empty unsubstantial shades, 
 That ramble through those visionary glades; 
 No spongy fruits from verdant trees depend, 
 
 But sickly orchards there 
 
 Do fruits as sickly bear. 
 
 And apples a consumptive visage shew, 
 And wither'd hangs the hurtle-berry blue.. 
 
 Ah me! what mischiefs on the dead attend ! 
 "Wandering a stranger to the shores below, 
 Where shall I brook or real fountain find I 
 Lazy and sad deluding waters now — 
 Such is the picture in my boding mind I 
 
 Fine tales, indeed, they tell 
 
 Of shades and purling rills, 
 
 "Where our dead fathers dwell 
 
 Beyond the western hills, 
 But when did ghost return his state to shew ; 
 Or who can promise half the tale is true { 
 
 I too must be a fleeting ghost — no more — 
 None, none but shadows to those mansions go; 
 I leave my woods, I leave the Huron shore, 
 For emptier groves below I 
 Ye charming solitudes, 
 Ye tall ascending woods, 
 Ye glassy lakes and prattling streams, 
 Whose aspect still was sweet, 
 Whether the sun did greet, 
 Or the pale moon embrae'd you with her beams — 
 Adieu to all ! 
 To all, that eharrn'd me where I stray'd. 
 The winding stream, the dark sequester' d shade ; 
 Adieu all triumphs here ! 
 Adieu the mountain's lofty swell, 
 Adieu, thou little verdant hill, 
 And seas, and stars, and skies — farewell, 
 For some remoter sphere ! 
 
 Perplex' d with doubts, and torturd with despair, 
 
 Why so dejected at this hopeless sleep! 
 
 Nature at last these ruins may repair, 
 
 When fate's long dream is o'er, and she forgets to 
 
 weep ; 
 Some real world once more may be assign'd, 
 Some new-born mansion for the immortal mind ! 
 Farewell, sweet lake; farewell surrounding woods, 
 To other groves, through midnight glooms, I stray, 
 Beyond the mountains, and beyond the floods, 
 
 Beyond the Huron bay ! 
 Prepare the hollow tomb, and place me low, 
 My trusty bow, and arrows by my side, 
 The cheerful bottle, and the ven'son store ; 
 For long the journey is that I must go. 
 Without a partner, and without a guide. 
 
 He spoke, and bid the attending mourners weep ; 
 Then clos'd his. eyes, and sunk to endless sleep !* 
 
 * There is another Indian poem, which some of our readers 
 may miss from this selection, entitled, The Death Song of a 
 Cherokee Indian. It appears as follows, in Carey's American 
 Museum, i. 77: — 
 
 THE DEATII-SONG OF A CITEItOKBE INDIAN. 
 
 By P. Freixeau. 
 The snn sets in night, and the stars shun the day, 
 But glory remains' when their lights fade away. 
 Begin, ye tormentors: your threats are in vain, 
 For the Son of Alknomoek can never complain. 
 Remember the woods, where in ambush he lay, 
 And the scalps which he bore from your nation away ! 
 Why do ye delay ? . . . . till I shrink from my pain 'i 
 Know the Sou of Alknomoek can never complai: 1 .. 
 Remember the arrows he shot from his bow; 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low, 
 The flame rises high, you exalt in my pain, 
 But the son of Alknomoek will never comp'aia. 
 
 mat to Ariux. 
 i. 
 "Without your showers 
 I breed no flowers 
 Each field a barren waste appears; 
 If yuu don't weep 
 My blossoms sleep, 
 They take such pleasure in your tea. a 
 
 n. 
 
 As your decay 
 
 Made room for May, 
 So I must part with all that's mine , 
 
 My balmy breeze. 
 
 My blooming trees, 
 To torrid suns their sweets resign. 
 
 IIL 
 
 .For April dead 
 
 My shades I spread, 
 To her I owe my dress so gay; 
 
 Of daughters three 
 
 It falls on me 
 To close our triumphs on one day. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus to repose 
 
 All Nature goes ; 
 Month after month must find its doon: 
 
 Time on the wing 
 
 May ends the Spring, 
 And Summer frolics o'er her tomb. 
 
 THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE. 
 
 Fair flower, that dost so eomely grow, 
 
 Kid in this silent dull retreat, 
 Untouched thy honey 'd blossoms blow, 
 
 Unseen thy little branches greet : 
 
 I go to the land where my father is gone : 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son. 
 Death comes like a frieud, he relieves me from pain, 
 Aud thy son, O Alknomoek, has scorn'd to complain. 
 
 It is also assigned to Freneau by Samuel L. Knapp in his Lec- 
 tures on American Literature, 169. We find it, however, in- 
 troduced, with some slight variations, in the dialogue of Maria 
 Edgeworth s Rosamond (Harper's ed. p. 304), where the author- 
 ship is given to " the widow of the celebrated John Hunter," 1 
 and the following author's note recited from the volume of 
 poems from which it is taken : — "The idea of this ballad wrn 
 suggested several yeaTS ago by hearing a gentleman, who had 
 resided many years in America among the tribe called the 
 Clvrokees, sing a wild air, which he assured me it was custo- 
 mary for those people to chant with a barbarous jargon, im- 
 plying contempt for their enemies in the moments of torture 
 and death. I have eudeavored to give something of the cha- 
 racteristic spirit and sentiment of those brave savages." 
 
 In Chamber's Cyclopedia of English Literature, ii. 279, there 
 is a notice of Mrs. John Hunter's volume, "a retired but highly 
 accomplished lady, sister of Sir Everard Home, and wife of 
 John Hunter, the celebrated surgeon. 1 ' Her poems were col- 
 lected and published in 1S06, several of them having beeu pre- 
 viously exteusivcly circulated. Chambers prints the poem, 
 and as it has several lines different from the copy circulated in 
 this country, we give it in Mrs. Hunter's language: — 
 
 TTIE DEATH SONG. 
 
 Written for and adapted to an original Indian air. 
 The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, 
 But glory remains when tht-ir lights fade away. 
 Begin, you tormentors! ymir threats are in vain, 
 For the Son of Aiknomook will never complain. 
 
 Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatehet laid low. 
 Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from the pain? 
 No; the Son of Aiknomook shall never complain. 
 
 Remember the wood where in ambush we lay, 
 And the scalps which we bore from your nation away. 
 Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain, 
 But the Son uf Aiknomook can never complain. 
 
 I go to the land where my father is gone, 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son ; 
 Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain : 
 And thy son, O Aiknomook I has scorn'd to complain. 
 
342 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 No roving foot shall find thee here, 
 No busy hand provoke a tear. 
 
 By Nature's self in white array'd, 
 
 She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, 
 And planted here the guardian shade, 
 And sent soft waters murmuring by; 
 Thus quietly thy summer goes, 
 Thy days declining to repose. 
 
 Smit with these charms, that must decay, 
 
 I grieve to see thy future doom ; 
 They died — nor were those flowers less gay, 
 (The flowers that did in Eden bloom) 
 Unpitying frost, and Autumn's power 
 Shall leave no vestige of this flower. 
 
 From morning suns and evening dews 
 
 At first, thy little being came: 
 If nothing once, you nothing lose, 
 For when you die you are the same; 
 The space between is but an hour, 
 The mere idea of a flower. 
 
 THE HURRICANE. 
 
 Happy the man who safe on shore, 
 Now trims, at home, his evening fire ; 
 Unmov'd, he hears the tempest's roar, 
 That on the tufted groves expire: 
 Alas ! on us they doubly fall, 
 Our feeble barque must bear them all. 
 
 Now to their haunts the birds retreat, 
 The squirrel seeks his hollow tree, 
 "Wolves in their shaded caverns meet, 
 All, all are blest but wretched we — 
 Foredoom'd a stranger to repose, 
 No rest the unsettled ocean knows. 
 
 While o'er the dark abyss* we Toam, 
 Perhaps, wliate'er the pilots say, 
 We saw the sun descend in gloom, 
 No more to see his rising ray, 
 But buried low, by far too deep, 
 On coral beds, uupitied, sleep ! 
 
 But what a strange, uncoasted strand 
 Is that, where fate permits no day — 
 No charts have we to mark that land, 
 No compass to direct that way — 
 What pilot shall explore that realm, 
 What new Columbus take the helm ! 
 
 While death and darkness both surround, 
 And tempests rage with lawless power, 
 Of friendship's voice I hear no sound, 
 No comfort in this dreadful hour — 
 What friendship can in tempests be, 
 What comfort on this troubled sea ? 
 
 The barque, accustom'd to obey, 
 No more the trembling' pilots guide : 
 Alone she gropes her trackless way, 
 While mountains burst on either side — 
 Thus skill and science both must fall, 
 And ruin is the lot of all. 
 
 ST. CATHARISE'S.f 
 
 He that would wish to rove awhile 
 In forests green and gay, 
 From Charleston bar to Catharine's isle 
 Might sigh to find the way ! 
 "What scenes on every side appear, 
 What pleasure strikes the mind, 
 From Folly's train, thus wandering far, 
 To leave the world behind. 
 
 * An island on the sea-coast of Georgia. 
 
 t Near the east end of Jamaica. July"30, 1784. 
 
 The musie of these savage grove3 
 
 In simple accents swells, 
 
 And freely, here, their sylvan loves 
 
 The feather'd nation tells ; 
 
 The panting deer through mingled shades 
 
 Of oaks forever green 
 
 The vegetable world invades, 
 
 That skirts the watery scene. 
 
 Thou sailor, now exploring far 
 
 The broad Atlantic wave, 
 
 Crowd all your canvass, gallant tar, 
 
 Since Neptune never gave 
 
 On barren seas so fine a view 
 
 As here allures the eye, 
 
 Gay, verdant scenes that Nature drew 
 
 In colors from the sky. 
 
 Ye western winds ! awhile delay 
 
 To swell the expecting sail — 
 
 Who would not here, a hermit, stay 
 
 In yonder fragrant vale, 
 
 Could he engage what few can find, 
 
 That coy, unwilling guest 
 
 (All avarice banish'd from the mind) 
 
 Contentment, in the breast ! 
 
 NEVEESrNK. 
 
 These hills, the pride of all the coast, 
 To mighty distance seen, 
 With aspect bold and rugged brow, 
 That shade the neighbouring main : 
 These heights, for solitude design'd, 
 This rude resounding shore — 
 These vales impervious to the wind, 
 Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend, 
 Half Druid, I adore. 
 
 From distant lands, a thousand sails 
 
 Your hazy summits greet — 
 
 You saw the angry Briton come, 
 
 You saw him, last, retreat! 
 
 With towering crest, you first appear 
 
 The news of land to tell ; 
 
 To him that conies, fresh joys impail, 
 
 To him that goes, a heavy heart, 
 
 The lover's long farewelk' 
 
 'Tis your's to see the sailor bold, 
 
 Of persevering mind, 
 
 To see him rove in search of care, 
 
 And leave true bliss behind ; 
 
 To see him spread his flowing sails 
 
 To trace a tiresome road, 
 
 By wintry seas and tempests chae'd 
 
 To see him o'er the ocean haste, 
 
 A comfortless abode ! 
 
 Your thousand springs of waters blue 
 
 What luxury to sip, 
 
 As from the mountain's breast they flow 
 
 To moisten Flora's lip ! 
 
 In vast retirements herd the deer. 
 
 Where forests round them rise, 
 
 Dark groves, their tops in fether lost, 
 
 That, haunted still by Huddj^s ghost, 
 
 The trembling rustic flies. 
 
 Proud heights! with pain so often seen, 
 
 (With joy beheld once more) 
 
 On your firm base I take my stand, 
 
 Tenacious of the shore : — 
 
 Let those who pant for wealth or fame 
 
 Pursue the watery road ; — 
 
 Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights, 
 
 And health, attend these favourite heights, 
 
 Retirement's blest abode 1 
 
PHILIP FRHNEAU. 
 
 343 
 
 THE MAN OF NINETY ; 0E, A VISIT TO THE OAK. 
 
 " To yonder boughs that spread so wide, 
 Beneath whose shade soft waters glide, 
 
 Once more I take the well known way ; 
 "With feeble step and tottering knee 
 I sigh to reach my white-oak tree, 
 
 Where rosy health was wont to play. 
 
 If to the grave, consuming slow, 
 The shadow of myself, I go, 
 
 When I am gone wilt thou remain ! — 
 From dust you rose, and grew like me ; 
 I man became, and you a tree, 
 
 Both natives of one verdant plain. 
 
 How much alike ; yet not the samei 
 You could no kind protector claim; 
 
 Alone you stood to chance resigned : 
 When winter came, with blustering sky, 
 You fear'd its blasts — and so did I, 
 
 And for warm suns in secret pin'd. 
 
 When vernal suns began to glow 
 You felt returning vigour flow, 
 
 Which once a year new leaves supply'd ; 
 Like you, fine days I wish'd to see, 
 And May was a sweet month to me, 
 
 But when November came — I sigh'd 1 
 
 If through your bark some rustic arm 
 A mark impress'd, you took the alarm, 
 
 And tears awhile I saw descend ; 
 Till Nature's kind maternal aid 
 A plaister on your bruises laid, 
 
 And bade your trickling sorrows end. 
 
 Like you, I fear'd the lightning's stroke 
 Whose flame dissolves the strength of oak, 
 
 And ends at once this mortal dream ; — 
 You saw with grief the soil decay 
 That from your roots was torn away; 
 
 You siga'd — and curs'd the stream. 
 
 With borrow'd earth, and busy spade, 
 Around your roots new life I laid, 
 
 While joy reviv'd in every vein ; 
 Once more that stream shall death impart! 
 Though Nature owns the aid of ait, 
 
 No art immortal makes her reigu. 
 
 How much alike our fortune — say — 
 Yet why must I so soon decay 
 
 When thou hast scarcely reach'd thy prime 
 Erect and tall you joyous stand ; 
 The staff of age has found my hand, 
 
 That guides me to the grave of time. 
 
 Could I, fair tree, like you, resign, 
 And banish all these fears of mine. 
 
 Grey hairs would be no cause of grief; 
 Your blossoms die, but you remain, 
 Your fruit lies seatter'd o'er the plain. 
 
 Learn wisdom from the falling leaf. 
 
 As you survive, by heaven's decree, 
 Let wither'd flowers be thrown on me, 
 
 Sad compensation for my doom. 
 While Christmas greens and gloomy pines, 
 And cedars dark, and barren vines, 
 
 Point out the lonely tomb. 
 
 The enlivening sun, that burns so bright, 
 Ne'e- had a noon without a night, 
 
 So life and de \th agree ; 
 The ioy* of man by years are broke — " 
 'Twas thus the man of ninety spoko, 
 
 Then rose and left his tree. 
 
 THE ALMANAC MAKEE. 
 
 Qui tuto iiositus loco 
 
 Infra £l> videt omnia 
 
 Oceurril .iuo libens 
 
 Fato, iwc qiterilur mori. — Seneo. 
 
 While others dwell on mean affairs, 
 Their kings, their councils, and their wars, 
 Philaster roves among the stars. 
 
 In melancholy silence he 
 Travels alone and cannot see 
 An equal for his company. 
 
 Not one of all the learned train 
 Like him can manage Charlrs's wain 
 Or motion of the moon explain. 
 
 He tells us when the sun will rise, 
 Points out fair days, or clouded skies; — 
 No matter if he sometimes lies. 
 
 An annual almanac to frame 
 
 And publish with pretended name, 
 
 Is all his labour,' all his aim. 
 
 He every montli has something new, 
 Yet mostly deals in what is true 
 Obliging all, and cheating few. 
 
 Our sister moon, the stars, the sun, 
 In measur'd circles round him run ; 
 He knows their motions — every one 
 
 The solar system at his will — 
 To mortify such daring skill, 
 The comets— they are rebels still 
 
 Advancing in its daily race 
 He calculates the planets' plaee, 
 Nor can the moon elude his cliace. 
 
 In dark eclipse when she would hide 
 And be awhile the modest bride, 
 He pulls her veil of crape aside. 
 
 Each passing age must have its taste; 
 The sun is in the centre plac'd, 
 And fuel must supply his waste ; 
 
 But how to find it lie despairs, 
 Nor will he leave his idle cares 
 Or Jove to mind his own affairs. 
 
 lie prophesies the sun's decay ; 
 And while lie would his fate' delay 
 New sorrows on his spirits prey. 
 
 So much upon his shoulders laid, 
 He reads what Aristotle said ; 
 Then calls the comets to his aid. 
 
 The people of the lunar sphere 
 As lie can plainly make appear 
 Are coming nearer year by year. 
 
 Though others often gaze in vain 
 Not one of all the starry train 
 Could ever puzzle his strong braiii. 
 
 The ram, the twins, the shining goat, 
 And Argo, in the skies afloat. 
 To him are things of little note ; 
 
 And that which now adorns the be^r, 
 (I heard him say) the sailor's star, 
 Will be in time the Lord knows where. 
 
 Thus nature waiting at his call, 
 
 His book, in vogue with great and sma.l, 
 
 Is sought, admir'd, and read by all. 
 
 How happy thus on earth to stay, 
 The planets keeping him in pay- 
 And when 'tis time to post away, 
 
344 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Old Saturn will a bait prepare, 
 And hook him up from toil and eare 
 To make new calculations there. 
 
 THE NEW ENGLAND SABEATH-DAY CHA6E. 
 
 {Written undo' the CJiaracter of Hezekiali Salem.) 
 On a fine Sunday morning I mounted my steed, 
 And southward from Hartford had meant to pro- 
 ceed; 
 My baggage was stow'd in a cart very snug, 
 Which Ranger, the gelding, was fated to lug ; 
 With his harness and buckles, he looui'd very grand, 
 And was drove by young Darby, a lad of the land — 
 On land or on water, most handy was he; 
 A jockey on shore, and a sailor at sea ; 
 lie knew all the roads, he was so very keen, 
 And the Bible by heart, at the age of fifteen. 
 As thus I jogg'd on, to my saddle confined, 
 With Ranger and Darby a distance behind; 
 At last in full view of a steeple we came, 
 With a cock on the spire, (I suppose he was game; 
 A dove in the pulpit may suit your grave people, 
 But always remember — a cock on the steeple.) 
 Cries Darby — " Dear master, I beg you to stay; 
 Believe me, there's danger in driving this way ; 
 Our deacons on Sundays have power to arrest 
 And lead us to church — if your honor thinks best : 
 Though still I must do them the justice to tell, 
 They would choose you should pay them the fine — 
 full as well." 
 The fine (said 1), Darby, how much may it be — 
 A shilling or sixpence ? Why, now let me see, 
 Three shillings are all the small pence that remain, 
 And to change a half joe would be rather profane. 
 Is it more than three shillings, the fine that you 
 
 speak on ? 
 What say you, good Darby, will that serve the 
 deacon ? 
 " Three shillings !" (cried Darby) " why, master, 
 you're jesting ! — 
 Let us luff while we can, and make sure of our west- 
 ing — 
 Forty shillings, excuse me, is too much to pay. 
 It would take my month's wages — that's all I've to 
 
 say. 
 By taking this road that inclines to the right, 
 The squire and the sexton may bid us goud night: 
 If once to old Ranger I give up the rein 
 The parson himself may pursue us in vain." 
 
 " Not I, my good Darby (I answer'd the lad). 
 Leave the church on the left ! they would think we 
 
 were mad. 
 I would sooner rely on the heels of my steed, 
 And pass by them all, like a J4.hu indeed: 
 As long as I'm able to lead in the race, 
 Old Ranger, the gelding, will go a good pace ; 
 As the deacon pursues, he will fly like a swallow, 
 And you in the cart must undoubtedly follow." 
 Then approaching the church, as we pass'd by the 
 door 
 The sexton peep'd out, with a saint or two more, 
 A deacon came forward and waved us his hat, 
 A signal to drop him some money — mind that! — 
 " Now, Darby, (I whispered) be ready to skip, 
 Ease off the curb bridle — give Ranger the whip: 
 While you have the rear, and myself lead the way, 
 No doctor or deaeon shall catch us to-day." 
 
 By this time the deacon had mounted his pony, 
 And chased for the sake of our souls and — our money: 
 The saint, as he followed, cried — " Stop them, hal- 
 loo !" 
 As swift as he followed, as swiftly we flew. 
 
 " Ah, master ! (said Darby) I very much fear 
 We must drop him some money to check his career; 
 He is gaining upon us and waves with his hat — 
 
 There's nothing, dear master, will stop him but that. 
 Remember the Beaver (you well know the fable), 
 Who flying the hunters as long as he's able, 
 ■When he finds that his efforts can nothing avail, 
 But death and the puppies are close at his tail, 
 Instead of desponding at such a dead lift, 
 He bites off their object, and makes a free gift. 
 Since fortune all hope of escaping denies, 
 Better give them a little than lose the whole prize.'' 
 But scarce had he spoke, when we came to a place 
 Whose muddy condition concluded the chase. 
 Down settled the cart, and old Ranger stuck fast. 
 Aha ! (said the saint), have I catch d ye at last ? 
 ******** 
 
 Csetera desunt. 
 
 NEW ENGLAND AND NEW YORK. 
 
 These exiles were form'd in a whimsical mould, 
 And were aw'd by their priests, like the Hebrews 
 
 of old ; 
 Disclaim'd all pretences to jesting and laughter, 
 And sigh'd their lives through, to be happy hereafter. 
 
 On a crown immaterial their hearts were intent, 
 They look'd towards Zion, wherever they went, 
 i Did all things in hopes of a future reward, 
 j And worry'd mankind — for the sake of the Lord. 
 
 ' With rigour excessive they strengthen'd their reign, 
 I Their laws were conceiv'd in the ill-natur'd strain, 
 
 With mystical meanings the saint was perplext. 
 
 And the flesh and the devil were slain by a text. 
 
 The body was scourg'd for the good of the soul, 
 All folly discourag'd by peevish controul, 
 A knot on the head was the sign of no grace, 
 And the Pope and his comrade were pictur'd in lace. 
 
 A stove in their churches, or pews lin'd with green, 
 Were horrid to think of, much less to be seen, 
 Their bodies were warm'd with the linings of love, 
 And the fire was sufficient that fiash'd from above. 
 
 'Twas a crime to assert that the moon was opaque. 
 To say the earth mov'd, was to merit the stake ; 
 And he that could tell an eclipse was to be, 
 In the college of Satan had took his degree. 
 
 On Sundays their faces were dark as a cloud — 
 
 The road to the meeting was only allow'd, 
 
 And those they caught rambling, on business or 
 
 pleasure, 
 Were sent to the stocks, to repent at their leisure. 
 
 This day was the moumfullest day in the week — 
 Except on religion, none ventur'd to speak — 
 This day was the day to examine their lives, 
 To clear off old scores, and to preach to their wives. 
 
 In the school of oppression though woefully taught, 
 'Twas only to be the oppressors they sought ; 
 All, all but themselves were be-devill'd and blind, 
 And their nanow-soul'd creed was to serve ail 
 mankind. 
 
 This beautiful system of nature below 
 They neither consider'd, nor wanted to know, 
 And call'd it a dog-house wherein they were pent. 
 Unworthy themselves, and their mighty descent. 
 
 They never perceiv'd that in Nature's wide plan 
 There must be that whimsical creature call'd Max, 
 Far short of the rank he affects to attain, 
 Yet a link in its place, in creation's vast chain. 
 ***** 
 
 Tims, feuds and vexations distracted their reign, 
 (And perhaps a few vestiges still may remain) 
 But time has presented an offspring as bold, 
 Less free to believe, and more wise than the old. 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 315 
 
 Their phantoms, their wizzards, theii' witches are 
 
 fled— 
 Matthew Paris*!!* story with horror is read — 
 His daughters, and all the enchantments they bore — 
 And the demon, that pinch'd them, is heard of no 
 
 more. 
 Their taste for the fine arts is strangely increas'd, 
 And Latin's no longer a mark of the Beast : 
 Mathematics, at present, a farmer may know, 
 Without being haug'd for connections below. 
 
 Proud, rough, independent, undaunted and free, 
 And patient of hardships, their task is the sea, 
 Their country too barren their wish to attain, 
 They make up the loss by exploring the main. 
 
 Wherever bright Phoebus awakens the gales 
 I 6ee the bold Yankees expanding their sails, 
 Throughout the wide ocean pursuing their schemes, 
 And chaciug the whales on its uttermost streams. 
 
 No climate, for them, is too cold or too warm, 
 They reef the broad canvas, and fight with the 
 
 storm ; 
 In war with the foremost their standards display, 
 Or glut the loud eaunon with death, for the fray. 
 
 No valour in fable their valour exceeds, 
 Their spirits are fitted for desperate deeds; 
 No rivals have they in our annals of fame, 
 Or if they are rivall'd, 'tis York has the claim. 
 
 Inspir'd at the sound, while the name she repeats, 
 Bold fancy conveys me to Hudson's retreats — 
 Ah, sweet recollection of juvenile dreams 
 In the groves, and the forests that skirted his streams ! 
 
 How often, with rapture, those streams were survey'd 
 When, sick of the city, I flew to the shade — ■ 
 How often the ba*l and the peasant shall moxirn 
 Ere those groves shall revive, or those shades shall 
 return ! 
 
 Not a hill, but some fortress disfigures it round ! 
 And ramparts are rais'd where the cottage was 
 
 found ! 
 The plains and the vallies with ruin are spread, 
 With graves in abundance, and bones of the dead. 
 
 The first that attempted to enter this streight 
 (In anno one thousand six hundred and eight) 
 Was Hudson (the same that we inention'd before, 
 Who was lost in the gulf that he went to explore.) 
 
 For a sum that they paid him (we know not how 
 
 much) 
 This captain transferr'd all his right to the Dutch ; 
 for the time has been here, (to the world be it 
 
 known,) 
 When all a man sail'd by, or saw, was his own. 
 
 The Dutch on their purchase sat quietly down, 
 And fix'd on an island to lay out a town ; 
 They modell'd their streets from the horns of a ram ; 
 And the name that best pleas'd them was New 
 
 Amsterdam. 
 
 They purchas'd large tracts from the Indians for 
 
 beads, 
 And sadly tormented some runaway Swedes, 
 Who (none knows for what) from their country had 
 
 flown 
 To live here in peace, undisturb'd and alone. 
 New Belgia, the Dutch call'd their province, be sure, 
 But names never yet made possession secure, 
 For Charley (the second that honour'd the name) 
 Sent over a squadron, asserting his claim. 
 
 * See Neil's History of New England. 
 
 ; (Had his sword and his title been equally slender, 
 In vain had they summon'd Mynheer to surrender) 
 The soil they demanded, or thrcaten'd their worst, 
 Insisting that Cabot had look'd at itjirst. 
 
 ■ The want of a squadron to fall on their rear 
 Made the argument perfectly plain to Mynheer — 
 Force ended the contest — the right was a sham, 
 And the Dutch were sent packing to hot Surinam. 
 
 'Twas hard to be thus of their labours depriv'd, 
 But the age of republics had not yet arriv'd — 
 Fate saw — tho' no wizzard could tell them as much — 
 Tliat the crown, in due time, was to fare like t/w 
 Dutch. 
 
 THE ROYAL APPRENTICE : A LONDON STORY. 
 
 A widow who some miles from London lived, 
 
 Far in a vale obscure, of little note, 
 
 With much ado a poor subsistence gain'd 
 
 From a spinning-wheel, that just her living brought. 
 
 A son she had, a rude, mischievous wight, 
 Who, now to fifteen years or more arrived, 
 Would neither dig nor thresh, nor hold the plough, 
 But simply by the poor old woman lived. 
 
 Joan thought it time this lazy, lounging lad, 
 Should learn some trade, since country work l.o 
 
 hated : 
 Jerry, said she, to London you must go, 
 And learn to work ; for this you was created. 
 
 While tarrying here, you eat up all my kail, 
 Scarce leave a turnip-top — my hens you kill, 
 And nothing earn. My wheel alone goes round, 
 But time must come, my boy, when stop it will. 
 
 Tour legs and arms grow every day more stro:i:r; 
 For height you shortly will be call'd a man: 
 Not so with me — I am hastening down the hill, 
 And soon must mix with dust, where I began ! 
 
 Jerry with tears received the good advice; 
 So, up to London town next week they went. 
 Now choose, said Joan, the trade you fancy best 
 For to some trade you must and shall be sent. 
 
 So round he stroll'd through many a street and alley, 
 Saw blacksmiths here, like Vulcan, wielding sledge's ; 
 There tailors sitting cross-legg'd on a board, 
 Next barbers whetting up their razors' edges. 
 
 Now saw a cobbler cobbling in his stall, 
 Then weaver busy with his warp and woof; 
 Now mason raising high some lordling's wall, 1 
 Or carpenter, engaged upon a roof. 
 
 These pleased him not. All this was hard-earn'd cash. 
 Tight work he thought, in one disguise or other. 
 He look'd at labor — saw it was not good — 
 Or oidy good as managed by his mother. 
 
 He shook his head, as if he meant to say, 
 All this is worse than threshing — learn a trade! 
 Something I'll learn that's fine, genteel, and airy. 
 For common work these hands were never made. 
 
 At last he chanced to stray where dwells the king — 
 Great George the Third, in all his pomp and glare ; 
 Well now, thought Jerry, here must live a man 
 That lias a trade would suit me to a hair. 
 
 There's little doing — all is brisk and gay, 
 And dainty dishes go a begging here: 
 Some seem to work, yet all their work is pla} 7 , 
 I will be bound at least for seven long year. 
 
 So back he came where honest Joan was waiting. 
 Well, Jerry, tell me, what's the trade you pitch on? 
 Mother, said he, there is but one I like, 
 Or which a man is likely to get rich on. 
 
346 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " Come, tell me then the business you prefer: 
 One only thriving trade! — a curious thing! 
 Out with it then !" Said Jerry, Mother dear, 
 Dear mother, bind me 'prentice to the king. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 Of the brave Americans, under General Greene, in South Ca- 
 rolina, who fell in the action of September 8, 1781. 
 
 At Eutaw springs the valiant died: 
 Their limbs with dust are covered o'er — 
 Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide; 
 How many heroes are no more ! 
 
 If in this wreck of ruin, they 
 Can yet be thought to claim a tear, 
 O smite thy gentle breast, and say 
 The friends of freedom slumber here! 
 
 Thou, who shalt trace this bloody plain, 
 If goodness rules thy generous breast, 
 Sigh for the wasted rural reign ; 
 Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest ! 
 
 Stranger, their humble graves adorn ; 
 You too may fall, and ask a tear : 
 Tis not the beauty of the morn 
 That proves the evening shall be clear — 
 
 They saw their injur'd country's woe ; 
 The flaming town, the wasted field ; 
 Then rush'd to meet the insulting foe ; 
 They took the spear— but left the shield. 
 
 Led by thy conquering genius, Greene, 
 The Britons they compell'd to fl}' : 
 None distant view'd the fatal plain, 
 None griev'd, in such a cause, to die — 
 
 But, like the Parthian, fam'd of old, 
 Who, flying, still their arrows threw ; 
 These routed Britons, full as bold, 
 Retreated, and retreating slew. 
 
 Now rest in peace, our patriot band; 
 Though far from Nature's limits thrown, 
 We trust, they find a happier land, 
 A brighter sunshine of their own. 
 
 ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY 
 
 Obtained by the. gallant Captain John Paul Jones of the Bon 
 Homme Richard, over the Scrapis, under the command of 
 Captain Pearson. 
 
 O'er the rough main, witli flowing sheet, 
 The guardian of a numerous fleet, 
 
 Seraphis from the Baltic came : 
 A ship of less tremendous force 
 Sail'd by her side the self-same course, 
 
 Countess of Scarb'ro' was her name. 
 
 And now their native coasts appear, 
 Britannia's hills their summits rear 
 
 Above the German main ; 
 Fond to suppose their dangers o'er, 
 They southward coast along the shore, 
 
 Thy waters, gentle Thames, to gain. 
 
 Full forty guns Seraphis bore, 
 
 And Scarb'ro's Countess twenty-four, 
 
 Mann'd with Old England's boldest tars — 
 What flag that rides the Gallic seas 
 Shall dare attack such piles as these, 
 
 Design'd for tumults and for wars ! 
 
 Now from the top-mast's giddy height 
 A seaman ery'd — " Four sail in sight 
 
 Approach w-ith favouring gales." 
 Pearson, resolv'd to save the fleet, 
 Stood off to sea, these ships to meet, 
 
 And closely brae'd his shivering sails. 
 
 With him advane'd the Countess bold, 
 Like a black tar in wars grown old : 
 
 And now these floating piles drew nigh 
 But, muse, unfold, what chief of fame 
 In the other warlike squadron came, 
 
 Whose standards at his mast-head fly. 
 
 'Twas Jones, brave Jones, to battle led 
 As bold a crew as ever bled 
 
 Upon the sky-surrounded main ; 
 The standards of the western world 
 Were to the willing winds unfurl'd, 
 
 Denying Britain's tyrant reign. 
 
 The Good-Man-Richard led the line ; 
 The Alliance next : with these combine 
 
 The Gallic ship they Pallas call, 
 The Vengeance arm'd with sword and flame ; 
 These to attack the Britons came— 
 
 But two accomplish'd all. 
 
 Now Phoebus sought his pearly bed : 
 But who can tell the scenes of dread, 
 
 The horrors of that fatal night! 
 Close up these floating castles came : 
 The Good-Maii-Richard bursts in flame; 
 
 Seraphis trembled at the sight. 
 
 She felt the fury of her ball : 
 
 Down, prostrate, down the Britons fall ; 
 
 The decks were strew'd with slain: 
 Jones to the foe his vessel lash'd ; 
 And, while the black artillery flash'd, 
 
 Loud thunders shook the main. 
 
 Alas! that mortals should employ 
 Such murdering engines to destroy 
 
 That frame by heaven so iiypely join'd ; 
 Alas ! that e'er the god decreed 
 That brother should by brother bleed, 
 
 And pour'd such madness in the miud. 
 
 But thou, brave Jones, no blame shalt bear 
 The rights of men demand your care : 
 
 For these you dare the greedy waves 
 No tyrant, on destruction bent, 
 Has plann'd thy conquests — thou art sent 
 
 To humble tyrants and their slaves. 
 
 See ! — dread Seraphis flames again — 
 And art thou, Jones, among the slain, 
 
 And sunk to Neptune's eaves below — 
 He lives — though crowds around him fail, 
 Still he, unhurt, survives them all ; 
 
 Almost alone he fights the foe. 
 
 And can your ship these strokes sustain ? 
 Behold your brave companions slain, 
 
 Al l clasp'd in ocean's cold embrace, 
 Stkike, or be sunk — the Briton cries — 
 Sink if tou can — the chief replies, 
 
 Fierce lightnings blazing in his face. 
 
 Then to the side three guns he drew, 
 (Almost deserted by his crew,) 
 
 And charg'd them deep with woe ; 
 By Pearson's flash he aim'd hot balls; 
 His main-mast totters — down it falls — 
 
 O'erwhelming half below. 
 
 Pearson had yet disdain'd to yield, 
 But scarce his secret fears concealM, 
 And thus was heard to cry — 
 ' With hell, not mortals, I contend ; 
 What art thou — human, or a fiend, 
 That dost my force defy ? 
 
PHILIP FRENEAU. 
 
 347 
 
 " PLeturn, my lads, the fight renew !" — 
 So call'd bold Pearson to his crew ; 
 
 But call'd, alas! in vain ; 
 Some on the decks lay maim'd and dead ; 
 Some to their deep recesses fled, 
 
 And hosts "were shrouded in the niaia. 
 
 Distressed, forsaken, and alone, 
 
 He haul'd his tatter'd standard down, 
 
 And yielded to his gallant foe ; 
 Bold Pallas soon the Countess took, — 
 Thus both their haughty colours struck, 
 
 Confessing what the brave can do. 
 
 But, Jones, too dearly didst thou buy 
 These ships possest so gloriously, 
 
 Too many deaths disgrac'd the fray: 
 Thy barque that bore the conquering flam", 
 That, the proud Briton overcame, 
 
 Even she forsook thee on thy way ; 
 
 For when the morn began to shine, 
 Fatal to her, the ocean brine 
 
 Pour'd through each spacious wound ; 
 Quick in the deep she disappear'd : 
 But Jones to friendly Belgia steer'd, 
 
 With conquest and with glory crown' d. 
 
 Go on, great man, to scourge the foe, 
 And bid these haughty Britons know 
 
 They to our Thirteen Stars shall ben 1 ; 
 The Stars that, veil'd in dark attire, 
 Long glimmer'd with a feeble fire, 
 
 But radiant' now ascend. 
 
 Bend to the Stars that flaming rise 
 
 On western worlds, rnore brilliant skies, 
 
 Fair Freedom's reign restor'd— 
 So when the Magi, come from far. 
 Beheld the God-attending Star, 
 
 They trembled and ador'd. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF 6T0NTNGT0N, ON TUE SEABOARD OF CONNEC- 
 TICUT. 
 
 In an attack upon the town and a small fort of two amis, by 
 Vie Ramillies, siventy-four gun ship, commanded by Sir 
 Tliomas Hardy ; the Pcutolm,Z% (fan. ship, Despatch, brig 
 of2'2 guns, and a razee, or bomb ship. — August, lbl4. 
 
 Four gallant ships from England came 
 Freighted d :-ep with fire and flame, 
 And other tilings we need not name, 
 To have a dash at Stouington. 
 
 Now safely moor'd, their work begun; 
 They thought to make the Yankees run, 
 And have a mighty deal of fun 
 
 In stealing sheep at Stouington. 
 
 A deacon then popp'd up his head, 
 And parson Jones's sermon read, 
 In which the reverend doctor said 
 
 That they must fight for Stoningt >:i. 
 
 A townsman bade them, next, attend 
 To sundry resolutions penn'd, 
 By which they promised to defend 
 
 With sword and gun old Stoning '.c:i. 
 
 The ships advancing different ways, 
 The Britons soon began to blaze, 
 And put th' old women in amaze, 
 
 Who fear'd the loss of Stoningt' o_ 
 
 The Yankees to their fort repair'.!, 
 And made as though they little cared 
 For all that came — though very hard 
 
 The cannon play'd on Stouington. 
 The Ramillies began the attack, 
 Despatch came forward— bold and black — 
 And none can tell what kept them back 
 ' From setting fire to Stonmgton. 
 
 The bombardiers with bomb and ball, 
 Soon made a farmer's barrack fall, 
 And did a cow-house sadly maul 
 
 That stood a mile from Stouington. 
 
 They kill'd a goose, they kill'd a lien, 
 Three hogs they wounded in a pen — 
 They dash'd away, and pray what then ? 
 This was not taking Stouington. 
 
 The shells were thrown, the rockets flew, 
 But not a shell, of all they threw. 
 Though every house was full in view, 
 
 Could burn a house at Stouington.. 
 
 To have their turn they thought but fair; — 
 The Yankees brought two guns to bear, 
 And, sir, it would have made you stare, 
 
 Tliis smoke of smokes at Stouington. 
 
 They bored Pactolus through and through, 
 And kill'd and wounded of her crew 
 So many, that she bade adieu 
 
 T' the gallant boys of Stouington. 
 
 The brig Despatch was hull'd and torn — 
 So crippled, riddled, so forlorn, 
 No more she cast an eye of scorn 
 
 On the little fort at Stouington. 
 
 The Ramilliee gave up th' affray, 
 And, with her comrades, sneak'd away. 
 Such was the valor, on that day, 
 
 Of British tars near Stouington. 
 
 But some assert, on certain grounds, 
 (Besides the damage and the wounds), 
 It cost the king ten thousand pounds 
 To have a dash at Stouington. 
 
 A BACCHANALIAN DIALOGUE. WRITTEN 1S03. 
 
 Arrived at Madeira, the island of vines, 
 Where mountains and valleys abound, 
 
 Where the sun the mild juice of the cluster refines, 
 To gladden the magical ground: 
 
 As pensive I stray'd in Her elegant shade, 
 Now halting and now on the move, 
 
 Old Bacchus I met, with a crown on his head, 
 In the darkest recess of a grove. 
 
 I met him with awe, but no symptom of fear 
 As I roved by his mountains and springs, 
 
 When he said with a sneer, " how dare you come 
 here, 
 You hater of despots aud kings ?— 
 
 " Do you know that a prince, and a regent renown'd 
 Presides in this island of wine ? 
 Whose fame on the earth has encircled it round 
 And spreads from the pole to the line? 
 
 " Haste away with your barque : on the foam of 
 the main 
 To Charleston I bid you repair: 
 There drink your Jamaica, that maddens the brain ; 
 You shall have no Madeira — I swear." 
 
 " Dear Bacchus," (I answered) for Bacchus it wa J , 
 That spoke in this menacing tone: 
 I knew by the smirk and the flush on his face 
 It was Bacchus, and Bacchus alone — 
 
 "Dear Bacchus (I answered), nh, why so severe? — 
 Since your nectar abundantly flows, 
 Allow me one cargo — without it I fear 
 Some people will soon come to blows. 
 
 " I left them in wrangles, disorder, and strife, 
 Political feuds were so high, 
 I was sick of their quarrels, and sick of my lire, 
 And almost requested to die." 
 
34:8 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The deity smiling, replied, " I relent : — 
 For the sake of your coming so far, 
 
 Here, taste of my choicest — go, tell them repent, 
 And cease their political war. 
 
 " With the cargo I send, you may say, I intend 
 To hush tliem to peace and repose ; 
 With this present of mine, on the wings of the 
 wind 
 You shall travel, and tell them, here goes 
 
 "A health to old Bacchus ! who sends them the best 
 Of the nectar his island affords, 
 The soul of the feast and the joy of the guest, 
 Too good for your monarchs and lords. 
 
 " No rivals have I in this insular waste, 
 Alone will I govern the isle 
 With a king at my feet, and a court to my taste, 
 And all in the popular style. 
 
 '• But a spirit there is in the order of things, • 
 To me it is perfectly plain, 
 That will strike at the sceptres of despots and kings, 
 And only king Bacchus remain." 
 
 GOUYEENEUE MOEEIS. 
 
 The first of the ancestors of Gouvernenr Morris 
 "who emigrated to America, was Richard Morris, 
 who is said to have been an officer in Cornwallis's 
 army. He came to New York, after a short resi- 
 dence in the West Indies, and purchased an estate 
 of three thousand acres at Harlaem, which was 
 invested by the governor with manorial rights. 
 His son Lewis succeeded to the estate ; and filled, 
 during the last eight years of his life, the office 
 of Governor of New Jersey. His eldest son, 
 Lewis, became a member of the New York Legis- 
 lature.in which he adopted the liberal side. He had 
 eight children, four of whom were sons, and out 
 of these sons Gouvernenr was the youngest. He 
 
 was born at Morrisania, Jan. SI, 1752. When 
 quite young lie was placed in the family of M. 
 Tetar, a teacher at New Eochelle, where he ac- 
 quired a thorough knowledge of the French lan- 
 guage. He was a graduate of King's College at the 
 early age of sixteen, and distinguished himself at 
 Commencement by a florid address on Wit and 
 Beauty. He next studied law in the office of 
 William Smith, the Colonial historian of the state; 
 
 and we find him at the age of eighteen, displaying 
 the future bent of his mind by a series of anony- 
 mous newspaper articles against a project brought 
 up in the Assembly for raising money by issuing 
 bills of credit. In 1775, he was elected a member 
 of the first Provincial Congress. Here he early 
 attracted attention, by a report and speech on the 
 mode of emission of a paper currency by the Con- 
 tinental Congress. The report was forwarded to 
 that body, which afterwards followed out its chief 
 suggestions. He continued in this position, taking 
 an active part in every leading question, until the 
 year 1777, when he was elected a member of the 
 1 Revolutionary Congress. The winter which fol- 
 I lowed his appointment was passed at Valley Forge, 
 as one of a committee appointed to examine, with 
 l Washington, into the state of the army. He sub- 
 | sequently maintained a regular correspondence 
 with the general, and was of much service in 
 Congress, promoting measures for the better sup- 
 port and efficiency of the national forces. He was 
 also the chairman of the committee of five ap- 
 pointed in 177!) to consider the despatches receiv- 
 i ed from the American Commissioners in Europe, 
 i whose report formed the basis of the subsequent 
 | treaty of peace. On the question of the jurisdiction 
 i of the state of New York over the " New Hamp- 
 ! shire Grants," now the State of Vermont, Mor- 
 I lis was supposed to be, and probably was, in 
 ; favor of the independence of the region, and con- 
 sequently lost his election by the state legislature. 
 He continued to reside in Philadelphia, where he 
 commenced the practice of his profession. In the 
 early part of 1780, he published a series of essays 
 in the " Pennsylvania Packet," signed " An Ame- 
 rican" on the state of the national finances, which 
 were then in their worst condition. In these, he 
 attacks with ability the laws passed, making the 
 receipt of the paper currency at a fixed value com- 
 pulsory, and also those regulating prices. An 
 able passage is quoted by Mr. Sparks from one of 
 these papers : — 
 
 'The last object I shall mention,' ' is the preserva- 
 tion of our federal union, which, in my poor opinion, 
 will greatly depend on the management of our reve- 
 nue. The articles of confederation were formed 
 when the attachment to Congress was great and 
 warm. The framers of it, therefore, seem to have 
 been only solicitous how to provide against the 
 power of that body, which, by means of their fore- 
 sight and care, now exists by mere courtesy and suf- 
 ferance. This is an evil, which cannot at present be 
 remedied, but if, in addition to this, a number of long 
 accounts, and quotas, and proportions be left for set- 
 tlement, until the enemy be removed at a distance, 
 and the fear of them also removed, these will afford 
 so much matter for litigation, and occasion such 
 heart-burnings, and give such room for the intrigues, 
 which Great Britain has already attempted, and 
 which will doubtless be carried on by her or some 
 other foreign power, that our union will become, 
 what our enemies long since declared it was, a mere 
 rope of sand. Congress then, like the traveller's 
 coat in the fable, after having been hugged close 
 through the stormy hour of danger, will be cast 
 aside as a useless burden, in the calm and sunshine 
 of peace and victory. Surely the consequences of 
 such a measure, the struggles, the convulsions, the 
 miseries, need not be pictured to a sensible and dis- 
 cerning people.' 
 
 In May of this year, Morris, while driving 
 
GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. 
 
 349 
 
 through Philadelphia, was thrown from his vehi- 
 cle, and his leg injured to such an extent as to 
 render amputation necessary. He submitted to 
 the operation with cheerfulness ; and is said to 
 have had it performed by a young surgeon, that 
 the credit attached to a successful treatment of a 
 case which had attracted public attention, might 
 be given to a friend whom it would advance in 
 fortune. 
 
 " The day after the accident occurred, a friend 
 called to see him, who thought it his duty to offer 
 as much consolation as he could, on an event so 
 melancholy. He dwelt upon the good effects which 
 such a trial would produce on his character and 
 moral temperament, and the diminished induce- 
 ments it would leave for seeking the pleasures and 
 dissipations of life, into which young men are too 
 apt to be led. ' My good Sir,' replied Mr. Morris, 
 'you argue the matter so handsomely, and point 
 out so clearly the advantages of being without 
 legs, that I am almost tempted to part with the 
 other.' 
 
 " To another person, who visited him on the 
 same occasion, and gave utterance to his feelings 
 of sympathy and regret, he replied : ' O, Sir, the 
 loss is much less than you imagine; I shall doubtless 
 be a steadier man with one leg than with two.' "* 
 
 For the remainder of his life he wore a wooden 
 leg, preferring this substitute to one of cork, which 
 he tried afterwards in Paris. The wooden leg did 
 him a better service than a real one on one occa- 
 sion during his ministry in that city. Being 
 hooted while riding home in his carriage, during 
 the revolution, he disarmed the fury of the mob, 
 and converted their cries of aristocrat into cheers 
 of approbation by putting his wooden member 
 out of the window and exclaiming " An aristocrat? 
 Yes, who lost his limb in the cause of American 
 liberty."t 
 
 In 1781, Robert Morris was placed at the head 
 of the finances of the nation, which had previously 
 been managed by a committee of Congress. His 
 first act was to appoint Gouverneur Morris his as- 
 sistant. He accepted the situation, and performed 
 its duties for three years and a half. He still re- 
 mained, after his retirement, connected with Ro- 
 bert -Morris in various private financial matters. 
 In 1780, his mother died. Her life interest in the 
 estate of Morrisania thus terminated ; it passed 
 into the possession of the second son, Staats Long 
 Morris, a general in the British army, the eldest 
 son Lewis, having received his portion in his fa- 
 ther's lifetime. The other children were to re- 
 ceive seven thousand pounds from Staats. As he 
 resided in England he had no objection to a sale, 
 and Gouverneur, by the aid of loans and accom- 
 modations, became possessed of the estate by pur- 
 chase from his brother. In 1787, he took his seat 
 as delegate from Pennsylvania, in the convention 
 for the formation of the federal constitution. No 
 record of his acts in that body is found among 
 his papers. An original letter written to Mr. 
 Sparks in reply to a request for information on the 
 subject by President Madison, bears testimony to 
 Morris's general exertions in promoting harmony, 
 and also that the draft of the constitution was 
 placed in his hands to receive its finished form. 
 
 * Sparks's Life, p. 224. 
 
 t Tuckerman's Mental Portraits. Art, Morris. 
 
 On the 18th of December, 1788, Morris sailed 
 for Havre. He arrived at Paris on the 3d of Feb- 
 ruary following. From this time he kept a mi- 
 nute diary, numerous selections from which will 
 be found in Mr. Sparks's Life. 
 
 In January, 1791, Morris visited London by 
 appointment of President Washington, as a private 
 agent to the English government, to settle unful- 
 filled articles of the treaty of peace. Conferences 
 were prolonged till September without result. 
 During his stay at London, he received the an- 
 nouncement of his appointment as Minister to 
 France. His course during the troublesome 
 period of his tenure of this office, was marked by 
 the caution requisite in his position. In August, 
 1794, he was succeeded by Monroe— his recall 
 having been asked by the French government, 
 after the recall of Citizen Genet at the request of 
 the United States. He next made an extensive 
 tour in Europe, and while at Vienna endeavored 
 to obtain the release of La Fayette from Olmutz. 
 Tins was effected in September, 1797, at the re- 
 quisition of Bonaparte. In October, 179S, having 
 arranged the complicated business affairs which 
 had long occupied his attention, he returned 
 home. The voyage from Hamburgh, retarded by 
 various accidents, occupied eighty daj's. He was 
 chosen the next year to fill a vacancy in the 
 Senatorial representation of New York. Before, 
 taking his seat in May, he was engaged in Febru- 
 ary as counsel in a law case at Albany, in which 
 Hamilton was opposed to him. He sided in the 
 Senate, and for the remainder of his life, with 
 the Federalists. He was opposed to the discon- 
 tinuance of direct taxation, and in favor of the 
 purchase of Louisiana. His terra closed in March, 
 1803, and the remainder of his life was passed at 
 Morrisania. 
 
 He married on Christmas Day, 1809, Miss Anne 
 Carey Randolph, a member of the eminent Virgi- 
 nia family of that name. Without informing 
 his relatives of his intention, he assembled them 
 apparently for the celebration of the festival, and 
 while they were wondering at the non-appear- 
 ance of their host, entered with a lady, and the 
 pair Were forthwith made man and wife. If all 
 present did not relish the marriage, they did the 
 dinner, and in this odd mode of conducting a 
 delicate affair, the wary politician may have 
 shown his skill as well as in the wider field of 
 national diplomacy. The guests were again sum- 
 moned to the baptism of his child. A mot of one 
 of the party deserves record for its humor, good 
 or bad as the reader pleases. They were in 
 ignorance before the ceremony as to the name the 
 infant was to receive. "For my part," said one, 
 near, we presume, in the scale of propinquity, "I 
 think he had better call his boy after his Russian 
 friend, Kutusoff." 
 
 He still retained his fondness for travel, and 
 made frequent journeys. He delivered funeral 
 orations on the occasion of the deatli of Wash- 
 ington, two others of a similar character on 
 Hamilton and Governor George Clinton ; an ad- 
 dress "in celebration of the Deliverance of Europe- 
 from the Yoke of Military Despotism," June 29, 
 1814; an inaugural Discourse before the New 
 York Historical Society, on his appointment as 
 President, and towards the close of his life con- 
 tributed frequently to the New York Evening 
 
350 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Post, the Examiner, and the United States Ga- 
 zette. His articles consist chief!}' of satires in 
 prose and verse on the politics of the day. The 
 oration on Hamilton was delivered in the open 
 air, on his interment at the porch of the old 
 Trinity Church. He was an early advocate of the 
 Erie Canal, and was Chairman of the Canal Com- 
 missioners from their first appointment in March, 
 1810, until his death, which occurred after a brief 
 illness, November 6, 1S16. 
 
 "When he was about dying, he said to his friend 
 at Morrisania, "Sixty-five years ago it pleased 
 the Almighty to call me into existence, here, on 
 this spot, in this very room; and how shall I com- 
 plain that he is pleased to call me hence ? " From 
 the nature of his disease, he was aware that his 
 hours were numbered. On the morning of his 
 death, he inquired of his near relative, the Hon. 
 Martin S. Wilkins, what kind of a day it was? 
 "A beautiful day," answered his nephew. "The 
 air is soft, the day cloudless, the water like crys- 
 tal ; you hear every ripple, and even the plash of 
 the steamboat wheels on the river ; it is a beauti- 
 ful day." The dying man seemed to take in this 
 description with that zest for nature which ac- 
 corded with the poetic interest of his character. 
 Like Webster, his mind reverted to Gray's Elegy ; 
 he looked at the kind relative, and repeated his 
 last words. " A beautiful day ; yes, but 
 
 " Who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 Nor east one longing, lingering look behind."* 
 
 His life, with selections from his correspondence 
 and miscellaneous papers, by Jared Sparks, was 
 published in 1832, in 3 vols. 8vo. A large portion 
 is occupied with his public and private correspond- 
 ence, on the French Revolution. His letters con- 
 tain a mass of testimony and sagacious comment 
 on that great event. 
 
 Morris, like many energetic men, was in the 
 habit of expressing his opinions with a freedom 
 which often involved hira in difficulties. His 
 indulgence in sarcasm also led to difficulties, and 
 gained him enemies. His openness and sincerity 
 of character were, however, duly estimated and 
 prized by his friends. His shrewdness enabled 
 him to take advantage of favorable opportunities 
 for the increase of his property, and he died the 
 possessor of a large estate. In person, he so 
 closely resembled Washington, that he stood as a 
 model of his form to Houdon the sculptor. 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION BY THE DEAD BODY OF nAMILTON. 
 
 If on this sad, this solemn occasion, I should en- 
 deavor to move your commiseration, it would be 
 doing injustice to that sensibility, which has been 
 so generally and so justly manifested. Far from at- 
 tempting to excite your emotions, I must try to re- 
 press my own ; and yet, I fear, that, instead of the 
 language of a public speaker, you will hear only the 
 lamentations of a wailing friend. But I will struggle 
 with my bursting heart, to portray that Heroic 
 Spirit, which has flown to the mansions of bliss. 
 
 Students of Columbia — he was in the ardent 
 pursuit of knowledge in your academic shades, when 
 
 * Dr. J. W. Francis's comparison of Webster and Morris, at 
 the celebration of Webster's birth-day, January 13, 1854, at the 
 Astor House. 
 
 the first sound of the American war called him to 
 the field. A young and unprotected volunteer, 
 such was his zeal, and so brilliant his service, that 
 we heard his name before we knew his person. It 
 seemed as if God had called him suddenly into 
 existence, that he might assist to save a world 1 
 
 The penetrating eye of Washington soon perceived 
 the manly spirit which animated his youthful 
 bosom. By that excellent judge of men, he was 
 selected as an Aid, and thus he became early ac- 
 quainted with, and was a principal actor in the most 
 important scenes of our Revolution. At the siege 
 of York, lie pertinaciously insisted on — and he ob- 
 tained the command of a Forlorn Hope. He stormed 
 the redoubt ; but let it be recorded that not one 
 single man of the enemy perished. His gallant 
 troops, emulating the heroism of their chief, checked 
 the uplifted arm, and spared a foe no longer resist- 
 ing. Here closed his military career. 
 
 Shortly after the war, your favor — no, your dis- 
 cernment, called him to public office. You sent him 
 to the convention at Philadelphia; he there assisted 
 in forming that constitution, which is now the bond 
 of our union, the shield of our defence, and the 
 source of our prosperity. In signing the compact, 
 he expressed his apprehension that it did not con- 
 tain sufficient means of strength for its own preser- 
 vation ; and that in consequence we should share the 
 fate of many other Republics, and pass through 
 Anarchy to Despotism. We hoped better things. 
 We confided in the good sense of the American 
 people ; and, above all, we trusted in the protecting 
 Providence of the Almighty. On this important 
 subject he never concealed his ppinion. He dis- 
 dained concealment. Knowing the purity of his 
 heart, he bore it as it were in his hand, exposing to 
 every passenger its inmost recesses. This generous 
 indiscretion subjected him to censure from misrepre- 
 sentation. His speculative opinions were treated 
 as deliberate designs ; and yet you all know how 
 strenuous, how unremitting were his efforts to 
 establish and to preserve the constitution. If, then, 
 his opinion was wrong, pardon, ! pardon that 
 single error, in a life devoted to your service. 
 
 At the time when our government was organized, 
 we were without funds, though not without re- 
 sources. To e.-ill them into action, and establish 
 order in the finances, Washington sought for splendid 
 talents, for extensive information, and above all, he 
 sought for sterling, incorruptible integrity. All 
 these he found in Hamilton. The sj'stem' then 
 adopted, has been the subject of much animadver- 
 sion. If it be not without a fault, let it be remem- 
 bered that nothing human is perfect Recollect the 
 circumstances of the moment — recollect the conflict 
 of opinion — and, above all, remember that the 
 minister of a Republic must bend to the will of the 
 people. The administration which Washington 
 formed was one of the most efficient, one of the best 
 that any country was ever blest with. And the 
 result was a rapid advance in power and prosperity, 
 of which there is no example in any other nge or 
 nation. The part which Hamilton bore is universally 
 known. 
 
 His unsuspecting confidence in professions, which 
 he believed to be sincere, led him to trust too much 
 to the undeserving. This exposed him to misrepre- 
 sentation. He felt himself obliged to resign. The 
 care of a rising family, and the narrowness of his 
 fortune, made it a duty to return to his profession 
 for their support. But though he was compelled to 
 abandon public life, never, no, never for a moment 
 did he abandon the public service. He never lost 
 sight of your interests. I declare to you, before that 
 God, in whose presence we are now especially as- 
 
GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. 
 
 351 
 
 sembled, that in his most private and confidential 
 conversations, the single objects of discussion and 
 consideration were your freedom and happiness. 
 You well remember the state of things which again 
 called forth Washington from his retreat to lead 
 your armies. You know that he asked for Hamilton 
 to be his second in command. That venerable sage 
 well knew the dangerous incidents of a military 
 profession, and he felt the hand of time pinching 
 life at its source. It was probable that he would 
 soon be removed from the scene, and that his second 
 would succeed to the command. He knew by ex- 
 perience the importance of that place — and he 
 thought the sword of America might safely be 
 confided to the hand which now lies cold in that 
 coffin. Oh! my fellow-citizens, remember this 
 solemn testimonial that he was not ambitious. Yet 
 he was charged with ambition, and wounded by the 
 imputation, when he laid down his command, he 
 declared, in the proud independence of his soul, that 
 he never would accept of any office, unless in a 
 foreign war he should be called on to expose his 
 life in defence of his country. This determination 
 was immovable. It was his fault that his opinions and 
 his resolutions could not be changed. Knowing his 
 own firm purpose, he was indignant at the charge 
 that he sought for place or power. He was ambi- 
 tious only for glory, but he was deeply solicitous for 
 you. For himself lie feared nothing ; but he feared 
 that bad men might, by false professions, acquire 
 your confidence, and abuse it to your ruin. 
 
 Brethren of the Cincinnati — there lies our chief! 
 Let him still be our model. Like him, after long and 
 faithful public services, let us cheerfully perform the 
 social duties of private life. Oh ! he was mild and 
 gentle. In him there was no offence ; no guile. 
 His generous hand and heart were open to all. 
 
 Gentlemen of the bar — you have lost your bright- 
 est ornament. Cherish and imitate his example. 
 While, like him, with justifiable, and with laudable 
 zeal, you pursue the interests of your clients, remem- 
 ber, like him, the eternal principle of justice. 
 
 Fellow-citizens — you have long witnessed his pro- 
 fessional conduct, and felt his unrivalled eloquence. 
 You know how well he performed the duties of a 
 citizen — you know that he never courted your 
 favor by adulation or the sacrifice of his own 
 judgment. You have seen him contending against 
 you, and saving your dearest interests as it were, in 
 spite of yourselves. And you now feel and enjoy 
 the benefits resulting from the firm energy of his 
 conduct. Bear this testimony to the memory of my 
 departed friend. I charge you to protect his fame. 
 It is all he has left— all that these poor orphan chil- 
 dren will inherit from their father. But, my country- 
 men, that fame may be a rich treasure to you also. 
 Let it be the test by which to examine those who 
 solicit your favour. Disregarding professions, view 
 their conduct, and on a doubtful occasion ask, would 
 Hamilton have clone this tiling ? 
 
 You all know how he perished. On this last scene 
 I cannot, I must not dwell. It might excite emotions 
 too strong for your better judgment. Suffer not 
 your indignation to lead to any act which might 
 again offend the insulted majesty of the laws. On 
 his part, as from his lips, though with my voice — 
 for his voice you will hear no more — let me entreat 
 you to respect yourselves. 
 
 And now, ye ministers of the everlasting God, per- 
 form your holy office, and commit these ashes of our 
 departed brother to the bosom of the grave. 
 
 THE KESTOUATION OP THE BOURBONS — 1S14. 
 
 Tis done. The lo/ig agony is over. The Bour- 
 bons are restored. France reposes in the arms of 
 
 her legitimate prince. We may now express our 
 attachment to her consistently with the respect we 
 owe to ourselves. We recall to remembrance that 
 interesting period, when, in the fellowship of arms, 
 our souls were mingled at the convivial feast, and 
 our blood on the field of glory. We look, exulting, 
 at the plain of York. There French and American 
 troops contended, in generous strife, who first should 
 reach the goal of victory. There the contest for in- 
 dependence was closed. There was sealed our title 
 to be numbered among the nations. 
 
 Thank God, we can, at length, avow the senti- 
 ments of gratitude to that august family, under 
 whose sway the fleets and armies of France and 
 Spain were arrayed in defence of American liberty. 
 We then hailed Louis the Sixteenth protector of the 
 rights of mankind. We loved him. We deplored 
 his fate. We are unsullied by the embrace of his 
 assassins. Our wishes, our prayers, have accompa- 
 nied the loyal Spaniards in their struggle ; and we 
 blush that Americans were permitted to offer only 
 wishes and prayers. 
 
 ****** 
 
 This virtuous monarch, our friend in the hour of 
 danger, was the victim of his own goodness. Ar- 
 dently desirous to ameliorate the condition of sub- 
 jects for whom he felt the fondness of a father, lie 
 thought no sacrifice of power too great if he could 
 promote their felicity. He had been persuaded that 
 his prerogative, useless to him, was oppressive to 
 them. Dangerous error ! He had been told and 
 believed, that in their loyalty he had a perfect de- 
 fence against the intrigues of turbulent demagogues. 
 Fatal delusion! This just, this merciful prince, was 
 led to execution amid the insulting shouts of a fero- 
 cious mob. He was guarded by militia who felt hor- 
 ror at the office. The royal victim, collected in 
 himself, was occupied, during the long procession, in 
 beseeching the divine majesty to pardon his rebel- 
 lious subjects. But the stroke which severed from 
 the body his innocent head, cut them off from for- 
 giveness, until they should have expiated the crime 
 by lengthened years of misery. 0! it was a crime 
 against nature and against heaven. A murder most 
 foul and cruel. A deed at which fiends might have 
 wept. I was in Paris. I saw the gush of sorrow. 
 I heard the general groan. Every bosom anticipated 
 the sentence of an avenging God. It was like a second 
 fall of man. An awful scene of affliction, guilt, and 
 horror. All were humbled to the dust, save only 
 those who exulted, in screams of diabolic rapture, 
 at their success in driving an assembly over which 
 they tyrannized to this nefarious act. 
 
 ****** 
 
 On the same scaffold, condemned by the same 
 judges, perished Danton himself. He perished, con- 
 spiring to place the imprisoned son on the throne of 
 a father whom he had laboured to destroy. He be- 
 lieved that Louis the Sixteenth had been too much 
 disgraced to reign over a proud nation. Combining, 
 therefore, the courage of a hero with the energy of 
 a conspirator, and unrestrained by religion or mercy, 
 he determined to strike off the head which he thought 
 unfit for a crown. In the rapid march of fate his 
 own soon fell. Insulted with the semblance of trial, 
 convicted without proof, condemned unheard, he 
 roared in a voice of thunder, "I have been told, and 
 now believe, that the punishment of man is the 
 fruit of his crime. Wretches ! I gave you the pow- 
 er of dooming innocence to death, and I, by your 
 doom, must die. The same justice shall overtake 
 those who sent me here and you also." The voice 
 of the savage was prophetic. 
 
352 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 This occasion does not require, neither will it per- 
 mit of, .1 history, or even the rapid recapitulation, 
 of important events. We have seen the tumults of 
 democracy terminate, in France, as they have every- 
 where terminated, in despotism. "What had been 
 foreseen and foretold, arrived. The power of usur- 
 pation was directed and maintained by great talents. 
 Gigantic schemes of conquest, prepared with deep 
 and dark intrigue, vast masses of force conducted 
 with consummate skill, a cold indifference to the 
 miseries of mankind, a profound contempt for moral 
 ties, a marble-hearted atheism, to which religion 
 was only apolitical instrument, and the stern perse- 
 vering will to bend everything to his purpose, were 
 the means of Napoleon to make himself the terror, 
 the wonder, and the scourge of nations. The gall- 
 ing of his iron yoke taught Frenchmen feelingly to 
 know how much they had lost in breaking the bands 
 of their allegiance. They had, indeed, to amuse 
 them, the pomp of triumph, the shout of victory, 
 and the consciousness of force which made the 
 neighboring nations groan. But the fruits of their 
 labour were wrested from them to gratify the extra- 
 vagance of vanity, or supply the waste of war. 
 Their children were torn from their bosoms, and 
 marched off in chains to the altar of impious, insa- 
 tiable ambition. Aged parents, who with trembling 
 step had followed to bid the last of many sons a fi- 
 nal, fond adieu, in returning to their cottage, once 
 the scene of humble happiness, but now stript by 
 remorseless collectors of everything which could be 
 sold, looking around in vain for the little objects to 
 which use and need had given value, and seeing 
 only the remnant of that loaf from which they had 
 taken their last meal, moistened with bitter tears, 
 turn their eyes to heaven, then, throwing themselves 
 in each other's arms, exclaim, my child ! my child ! 
 Such, France, were thy sufferings. Thus was the 
 innocent blood of thy sovereign visited upon thee. 
 Frenchmen ! by these woes were you taught to feel 
 the present, the avenging God. It was this deep 
 agony which led you to declare to your sovereign's 
 brother, in the language of nature and truth, " Sir, 
 we bring you our hearts; the tyrant has left us 
 nothing else to give." 
 
 * * $ $ . # * * 
 
 At length, after many battles, the well-planned 
 movements of the allies obliged Napoleon to aban- 
 don Dresden. From that moment his position on 
 the Elbe was insecure. But pride had fixed him 
 there: perhaps, too, the same blind confidence in 
 fortune. His force was collected at Leipsie. Leipsic, 
 in the war of thirty years, had seen the great Gus- 
 tavus fall in the arms of victory. Leipsic again 
 witnessed a battle, on whose issue hung the inde- 
 pendence, not of Germany alone, but of every state 
 on the continent of Europe. Hard, long, and obsti- 
 nate, was the conflict. On both sides were displayed 
 an union of the rarest skill, discipline, and courage. 
 As the flood-tide waves of ocean, in approaching 
 the shore, rush, foam, thunder, break, retire, return 
 — so broke, retired, and returned the allied batta- 
 lions, impetuously propelled by the pressure of their 
 brethren in arms. And as the whelming flood, a 
 passage forced through the breach, rends, tears, scat- 
 ters, dissipates, and bears away its unnumbered 
 sands, so was the tyrant's host overwhelmed, scat- 
 tered, and borne away; 
 
 And now behold a scene sublime. Three mightv 
 monarehs lay down their crowns and swords. They 
 fall on their knees. Theyraise their eyes and hands 
 to heaven. They pour out thanksgiving to the God 
 of Battles. To him, the King of kings, sole, self- 
 existent, in whom alone is might, majesty, and do- 
 minion. With one voice they cry, " The Lord is 
 
 with, «s. Brother, the Lord is with tis. Glory be to 
 the Lord." Contrast this spectacle with that which 
 had been exhibited thirteen mouths before on the 
 plains of Russia. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Again the cannon roar. The long arches of the 
 Louvre tremble. The battle rages. The heights of 
 Montmartre are assailed. They are carried. The 
 allies look down, victorious, on the lofty domes and 
 spires of Paris. Lo! the capital of that nation 
 which dictated ignominious terms of peace in Vien- 
 na and Berlin ; the capital of that nation which 
 wrapt in flames the capital of the Czars, is in the 
 power of its foes. Their troops are in full inarch. 
 The flushed soldier may soon satiate his lust and glut 
 his vengeance. Bee before you, princes, the school 
 of that wildering philosophy which' undermined 
 your thrones. In those sumptuous palaces dwell 
 voluptuaries, who, professing philanthropy, love 
 only themselves. There recline, on couches of down, 
 those polished friends of man, who, revelling in the 
 bosom of delight, see with indifference a beggar 
 I perish, and calmly issue orders for the conflagration 
 ! of cities and the pillage of kingdoms. Listen to the 
 voice of retributive justice. Throw loose the reins 
 of discipline. Cry havoc ! avenge! avenge! No — 
 Yonder is the white flag: Emblem of peace. It ap- 
 proaches. They supplicate mercy. Halt! Citizens 
 of America, what, on such an occasion, would Napo- 
 leon have done? Interrogate his conduct during 
 fifteen years of triumph. See this paragon of philo- 
 sophers spread ruin around him — his iron heart in- 
 sensible to pity — his ears deaf to the voice of reli- 
 gion and mercy. And liow see two Christian mo- 
 narehs, after granting pardon and protection, descend 
 from the heights of jVlontmartre and march through 
 the streets of that great city in peaceful triumph. 
 See, following them, half a million of men, women, 
 and children, who hail, with shouts of gratitude, 
 Alexander the deliverer. They literally kiss his feet. 
 And, like those of old, who approached the Saviour 
 of the world, they touch, in transport, the hem of 
 his garment and feel sanctified. He enters the tem- 
 ple of the living God. In humble imitation of his 
 divine master, he proclaims pardon and peace. 
 Those lips, which, victorious in the plain of Leipsic, 
 cried out Glory to God, now, again victorious, com- 
 plete the anthem of benediction. " Glory be to 
 God in the highest, and on earth peace. Good will 
 toward men." Let all nature join in the triumphant 
 song, Glory! glory! to God; and on earth peace. 
 
 That royal house now reigns. The Bourbons are 
 restored. Rejoice France! Spain! Portugal! You 
 are governed by your legitimate kings — Europe! re- 
 joice. The Bourbons are restored. The family of 
 nations is completed. Peace, the dove descending 
 from heaven, spreads over you her downy pinions. 
 Nations of Europe, ye are her brethren once more. 
 Embrace. Rejoice. And thou, too, my much 
 wronged country, my dear abused, self-murdered 
 country, bleeding as thou art, rejoice. The Bour- 
 bons are restored. Thy friends now reign. The 
 long agony is over. The Bourbons are restored. 
 
 ALEXANDER GRAYDON, 
 
 The author of a choice volume of personal and 
 revolutionary memoirs which has not been valued 
 as it deserves to be, in our American literature, 
 was a native of Pennsylvania, born in the then 
 village of Bristol, April'lO, 1752. His father was 
 an Irishman, who engaged in business in Phila- 
 delphia, where he was recognised in society as a 
 gentleman of spirit and literature. Alexander 
 
ALEXANDER GRAYDOK 
 
 353 
 
 was educated at Philadelphia, and liad for his 
 preceptor a Scotchman, John Beveridge, whose 
 volume of Latin poems has already been no- 
 ticed in these pages.* The account of Gray- 
 don's school-boy days in the Memoirs is 
 minute and entertaining, and the interest in- 
 creases when he describes the characters at his 
 mother's boarding-house (after the death of his 
 father), among whom were Sir William Draper,t 
 DeKalb, and Rivington, the printer in New York, 
 who practised his theatrical heroics and u high 
 jinks " on the premises. The youthful follies of a 
 lad of spirit of the olden time are duly related 
 with the fashionable admiration of the day for 
 Lovelace in the novel of Richardson, who proba- 
 bly, with all his good intentions, made more rakes 
 than saints. Possessed of some knowledge of the 
 law at the age of twenty-three, when Congress 
 was raising troops for the service in 1775, he 
 received the appointment of Captain, and tra- 
 versed his state for recruits. He was soon in- 
 trusted with carrying a sum of money to Schuyler 
 at Lake George, a journey which furnishes him 
 some characteristic incidents for his narrative. 
 On his return he joined the forces at New York, 
 was at the retreat from Long Island, and was 
 taken a prisoner at the subsequent action on 
 Harlem heights. He was retained in New York, 
 where he met Ethan Allen, was then quartered 
 at Flatbush, where he appears to have passed the 
 time in observation of the inhabitants, anil whence 
 he was liberated on parole, when he passed through 
 the American camp at Morristown, and witnessed 
 at Washington's table the elegant manners of 
 Hamilton, finally establishing himself at Reading. 
 In 1778 he.was fully released in the exchange of 
 prisoners, and celebrated the event by marrying 
 Miss Wood of Berks county. From that time he. 
 was a spectator of the war and a student of the 
 manners and personages of the times. In 1785 
 he received from the government of his state an 
 appointment to the Prothonotaryship of the coun- 
 ty of Dauphin, and removed to Ilarrisburgh, 
 where lie remained in the enjoyment of his office 
 till he was removed by Gov. McKean, who 
 introduced his system of political decapitation on 
 his induction in 1799. Graydon then lived on a 
 small farm in the neighborhood of Ilarrisburgh, 
 from which out-of-the-way quarter he sent forth, 
 in 1811, his Memoirs of a Life, chiefly passed in 
 Pennsylvania, within the last sixty years ; with 
 Occasional Remarks upon the General Occurren- 
 ces, Character, and Spirit of that Eventful Pc- 
 
 riod.l In this form, in a small volume, on dingy 
 
 * Ante. p. 128. 
 
 t Sir William Draper was tbe correspondent of Junius. 
 Leaving England after this encounter be arrived at Charles- 
 ton, S. C„ in January, 17G9, and travelling to New York, mar- 
 ried Miss DeLancey, daughter of Governor DeLancey, of New 
 York. She died in 177S, when he was appointed Go'vernor of 
 Minorca. 
 
 X Printed by John Wyeth. 12mo. pp. 378. 
 vol. i. — 2:J 
 
 paper, one of the most entertaining works, illus- 
 trating a most important period of our history 
 and manners, written with frankness and scholar- 
 ship, and abounding with anecdote, was suffered to 
 languish in a feeble circulation, known for the most 
 part only to curious readers, till Mr. John Stock- 
 ton Littell reissued it in a second edition, with a 
 biographical preface and ample historical annota- 
 tions, including some valuable original notes by 
 the author. He has also divided the work into . 
 chapters with appropriate headings and an indis- 
 pensable index.* Besides its personal anecdotes, 
 it contains notices of many of the leading per- 
 sonages of the war, and in the latter portions 
 gives free expression to the anti-Jeffersonian sen- 
 timents of the author, for which he had sharp 
 motive in bis loss of office. 
 
 John Gait, the novelist, and a student of Ameri- 
 can affairs, thought so well of the work, attracted 
 by its anecdote and living portraits of the times, 
 that be caused it to be reprinted at Edinburgh in 
 1822 with a complimentary dedication which he 
 wrote, addressed to the American Minister at 
 London. 
 
 In 1813-1-t we find Graydon contributor of a 
 series of papers to the Port-Folio, entitled Notes 
 of a Desultory Reader, which include comments 
 upon the Classics and French ant! English literature 
 exhibiting a high order of cultivation. In 1816 
 he returned to Philadelphia with the intention of 
 improving his affairs by becoming a publisher, 
 but he died, May 2, 1818, before this could be 
 carried into effect. 
 
 In the Port-Folio for July of that year there is 
 a tribute to his memory, in which he is described 
 as having been a representative of " that old 
 school of accomplished gentlemen, which nou- 
 rished before our Revolution ; — at a period when 
 the courtesy of society was not disturbed by 
 insubordination in systems, nor violated by laxity 
 in sentiments," and in which the writer notices 
 "the elegance of his person, that he retained in 
 an uncommon degree to his latest hour." 
 
 One of his last acts had been to send to the 
 Port-Folio a translation of the Latin Epigram — 
 
 Avulsa e ramo, frons o miseranda, virenti, 
 Marcida quo vadis? — Quo vadam, nescio — Quoreum 
 Maternam columenque meurn stravere procellra. 
 Inde milu illudit Zephyrus, Boreasve; vagamque 
 Montibus ad valles, sylvis me volvit ad agros : 
 Nee contra nitor. Quo tendunt omnia tendo ; 
 Quo fertur pariter folium lauri rosajque. 
 
 Attempted in English. 
 Torn from thy nurturing branch, poor, fallen leaf, 
 What hapless lot awaits thy withering form? 
 Alas! I know not, but I mourn in chief, 
 My parent oak laid prostrate by the storm. 
 
 Hence doomed the sport of every vagrant breeze 
 I'm hurried up the mount, then down again; 
 One while I mildew under shading trees, 
 Now, whirl'd afield, I bleach upon the plain. 
 
 In short, I go where all things earthly tend, 
 And unresisting meet my wasting foes, 
 
 * The title is somewhat ehanped : Memoirs of Sis Own 
 Tlm<\ with Reminiscences of Vie Men and Events of the Itavo- 
 lidwn. By Alexander Graydon. Edited by John Stockton 
 Littell, Member of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. 
 Philadelphia. Lindsay & Blakiston, 16-10. 8vo. pp. 504. 
 
354 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 For oaks and bramble have one common end — 
 The foliage of the laurel and the rose. 
 
 BBITISH OFFICERS IN PHILADELPHIA BEFOBE THE EEVOLCTION. 
 
 But it was not alone by hostile alarms, that the 
 good people of Philadelphia were annoyed. Their 
 tranquillity had been likewise disturbed by the unciti- 
 zenlike conduct of a pair of British officers, who, 
 for want of something better to do, had plunged 
 themselves into an excess of intemperance; and in 
 the plenitude of wine and hilarity, paraded the 
 streets at all hours, 
 
 A la clartc de cieux dans 1' ombre de la nuit, 
 to the no small terror of the sober and the timid. 
 The firm of this duumvirate was Ogle and Friend, 
 names always coupled together, like those of Castor 
 and Pollux," or of Pyladcs and Orestes. But the 
 cement which connected them, was scarcely so pure 
 as that which had united those heroes of antiquity. 
 It could hardly be called friendship; but was rather 
 a confederacy in debauchery and riot, exemplified 
 in a never ending round of frolic and fun. It was 
 related of Ogle, that upon hiring a servant, he hfid 
 stipulated with him that he should never get drunk 
 but when his master was sober. But the fellow 
 some time after requested his discharge, giving for 
 his reason, that he had in truth no dislike to a social 
 glass himself, but it had so happened, that the terms 
 of the agreement had absolutely cut him off from 
 any chance of ever indulging his propensity. 
 
 Many are the pranks I have heard ascribed, either 
 conjointly or separately, to this par nobile fratrum. 
 That of Ogle's first appearance in Philadelphia, has 
 been thus related to me by Mr. Will Richards, the 
 apothecary, who, it is well known, was, from his 
 size and manner, as fine a figure for Falstaff as the 
 imagination can conceive. " One afternoon," said 
 he, " an officer in full regimentals, booted and 
 spurred, with a whip in his hand, spattered with 
 mud from top to toe, and reeling under the effects 
 of an overdose of liquor, made his entrance into the 
 coffee-house, in a box of which I was sitting, perus- 
 ing a newspaper. He was probably under the im- 
 pression, that every man he was to meet would be a 
 Quaker, and that a Quaker was no other than a 
 licensed Simon Pure for his amusement: for no 
 sooner had he entered, than throwir.g his arms 
 about the neck of Mr. Joshua Fisher with the excla- 
 mation of — "Ah, my dear Broadbrim, give me a 
 kiss," he began to slaver him most lovingly. As 
 Joshua was a good deal embarrassed hy the saluta- 
 tion, and wholly unable to parry the assault or 
 shake off the fond intruder, I interfered in his be- 
 half and effected a separation, when Ogle, turning 
 to me, cried out, ' Hah! my jolly fellow, give me a 
 smack of your fat chops,' and immediately fell to 
 hugging and kissing me, as he had done Fisher. 
 But instead of the coyness he had shown, I hugged 
 and kissed in my turn as hard as I was able, until 
 my weight at length brought Ogle to the floor, and 
 myself on top of him. Kevertheless, I kept kissing 
 away, until nearly mashed and suffocated, he ex- 
 claimed, ' for Heaven's sake let me up, let me up, 
 or you will smother me!' Having sufficiently tor- 
 mented him and avenged Joshua lisher, I permitted 
 him to rise, when he seemed a good deal sobered, 
 and finding that I was neither a Quaker nor wholly 
 ignorant of the world, he evinced some respect for 
 me, took a seat with me in a box, and entering into 
 conversation, soon discovered, that however he 
 might be disguised by intoxication, he well knew 
 what belonged to the character of a gentleman. 
 This," said Richards, " was the commencement of an 
 acquaintance between us ; and Captain Ogle some- 
 
 times called to see me, upon which occasions he 
 always behaved with the utmost propriety and de- 
 corum." 
 
 This same coffee-house, the only one indeed in the 
 city, was also the scene- of another affray by Ogle 
 and Friend, in conjunction. I know not what parti- 
 cular acts of mischief they had been guilty of, but 
 they were very drunk, and their conduct so ex- 
 tremely disquieting and insulting to the peaceable 
 citizens there assembled, that being no longer able 
 to endure it, it was judged expedient to commit 
 them; and Mr. Chew happening to be there, under- 
 took, in virtue probably of his office of recorder, to 
 write their commitment. But Ogle, facetiously 
 joggling his elbow, and interrupting him with a re- 
 petition of the pitiful interjection of " Ah, now, Mr. 
 Chew .'" he was driven from his gravity, and obliged 
 to throw away the pen. It was then taken up by 
 
 Alderman M n, with a determination to go 
 
 through with the business, when the culprits Teeling 
 round him, and Ogle in particular, hanging over his 
 shoulder and rending after him as he wrote, at 
 length, with irresistible effect, hit upon an unfortu- 
 nate oversight of the alderman. "Aye," says he, 
 " my father was a justice of peace too, but lie did 
 not spell that word as you do. I remember per- 
 fectly well, that instead of an 6 he always used to 
 spell circumstance with a C." This sarcastic thrust 
 at the scribe, entirely turned the tide in favor of the 
 rioters ; and the company being disarmed of their 
 resentment, the alderman had no disposition to pro- 
 voke farther criticism by going on with the jnittimus. 
 The irregularities of these gay rakes were not 
 more eccentric than diversified ; and the more ex- 
 travagant they could render them, the better. At 
 one time, they would drive full tilt through the 
 streets in a chair ; and upon one of these occasions, 
 on approaching a boom which had been thrown 
 across the street, in a part that was undergoing the 
 operation of paving, they lashed forward their 
 steed, and sousing against the spar with great vio- 
 lence, they were consequently hurled from their 
 seats, like Don Quixote in his temerarious assault of 
 the windmills. At another time, at Doctor Orme's 
 the apothecary, where Ogle lodged, they, in emula- 
 tion of the same mad hero at the puppet-show, laid 
 about them with their canes upon the defenceless 
 bottles and phials, at the same time assaulting a di- 
 minutive Maryland parson, whom, in their frolic, 
 they kicked from the street-door to the kitchen. He 
 was a fellow lodger of Ogle's ; and, to make him 
 some amends for the roughness of this usage, they 
 shortly after took him drunk to the dancing assem- 
 bly, where, through the instrumentality of this 
 unworthy son of the church, they contrived to 
 excite a notable hubbub. Though they had es- 
 caped, as already mentioned, at the coffee-house, 
 yet their repeated malfeasances had brought them 
 within the notice of the civil authority; and they 
 had more than once been in the clutches of the 
 
 mayor of the city. This was Mr. S , a small 
 
 man of a squat, bandy-legged figure; and hence, by 
 way of being revenged on him, they bribed a negro 
 with a precisely similar pair of legs, to carry him a 
 billet, which imported, that as the bearer had in 
 vain searched the town for a pair of hose that might 
 fit him, he now applied to his honour to be informed 
 ' where he purchased HIS stockings. 
 
 I have been told that General Lee, when a cap- 
 tain in the British service, had got involved in this 
 | vortex of dissipation; and although afterwards so 
 strenuous an advocate for the civil rights of the 
 Americans, had been made to smart severely for 
 their violation, by the mayor's court of Philadel- 
 phia, 
 
ALEXANDER GRAYDON. 
 
 355 
 
 The common observation, that when men become 
 soldiers they lose the character and feelings of citi- 
 zens, was amply illustrated by the general conduct 
 of the British officers in America. Their studied 
 contempt of the 7nohairs, by which term all those 
 who were not in uniform were distinguished, was 
 manifest on all occasions; and it is by no means im- 
 probable, that the disgust then excited, might have 
 more easily ripened into that harvest of discontent, 
 which subsequent injuries called forth, and which 
 terminated in a subduction of allegiance from the 
 parent land. 
 
 JAMES SMITH, OF PENNSYLVANIA, THE SIGNER OF THE DECLA- 
 EATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Besides my fellow boarders there were several 
 young men in the town (York, Pa.), whose company 
 served to relieve the dreariness of my solitude ; for 
 such it was, compared with the scene from which 
 I had removed. These, for the most part, are yet 
 living, generally known and respected. There was 
 also in the place an oddity, who, though not to be 
 classed with its young men, I sometimes fell in with. 
 This was Mr. James Smith, the lawyer, then in con- 
 siderable practice. He was probably between forty 
 and fifty years of age, fond of his bottle and young 
 company, and possessed of an original species of 
 drollery. This, as may perhaps be said of all per- 
 sons in this way, consisted more in the manner than 
 the matter: for which reason, it is scarcely possi- 
 ble to convey a just notion of it to the reader. In 
 him it much depended 0:1. an uncouthncss of gesture, 
 a certain ludicrous cast of countenance, and a drawl- 
 ing mode of utterance, which, taken in conjunction 
 with his eccentric ideas, produced an effect irresis- 
 tibly comical ; though on an analysis it would be 
 difficult to decide, whether the man or the saying 
 most constituted the jest. The most trivial incident 
 from his mouth was stamped with his originality : 
 and in relating one evening how he had been dis- 
 turbed in his office by a cow, he gave inconceivable 
 zest to his narration, by his manner of telling how 
 she thrust her nose into the door, and there roared 
 like a Nimiidian lion. Like the picture of Garrick 
 between tragedy and comedy, his phiz exhibited a 
 struggle between tragedy and farce, in which the 
 latter seemed on the eve of predominating. With 
 a sufficiency of various reading to furnish him with 
 materials for ridiculous allusions and incongruous 
 combinations, he never was so successful as when he 
 could find a learned pedant to play upon : and of 
 all men, Judge Stedman, when mellow, was best 
 calculated for his butt. The judge was a Scotch- 
 man, a man of reading and erudition, though ex- 
 tremely magisterial and dogmatical in his cups. 
 This it was which gave point to the humor of 
 Smith, who, as if desirous of coming in for his share 
 of the glory, while Stedman was in full display of 
 his historical knowledge, never failed to set him 
 raving by some monstrous anachronism, such, for 
 instance, as "don't you remember, Mr. Stedman, 
 that terrible bloody battle which Alexander the 
 Great fought with the Russians near the Straits of 
 Babelmandel? " "What, sir!" said Stedman, re- 
 peating with the most ineffable contempt, " which 
 Alexander the Great fought with the Russians! 
 Where, mon, did you get your chronology?" "I 
 think you will find it recorded, Mr. Stedman, in 
 Thucydides or Herodotus." On another occasion, 
 being asked for his authority for some enormous 
 assertion, in which both space and time were fairly 
 annihilated, with unshaken gravity he replied, " I 
 am pretty sure I have seen an account of it, Mr. 
 Stedman, in a High Dutch almanac, printed at 
 Alcepo" his drawling way of pronouncing Aleppo. 
 
 While every one at tabic was holding his sides at 
 the expense of the judge, he, on his part, had no 
 doubt that Smith was the object of laughter, as he 
 was of his own unutterable disdain. Thus every 
 thing was as it should be, all parties were pleased ; 
 the laughers were highly tickled, the self-compla- 
 cency of the real dupe was flattered, and the sar- 
 castic vein of the pretended one gratified ; and this, 
 without the smallest suspicion on the part of Sted- 
 man, who, residing in Philadelphia, was ignorant of 
 Smith's character, and destitute of penetration to 
 develope it. 
 
 A PEISONEE OF WAK IN EXILE, AT FLATBtTSH. 
 
 Flat-bush was the place assigned for the officers 
 of our regiment, as well as those of Magaw's. Here 
 also, were stationed Colonels Miles, Atlee, Rawlings, 
 and Major Williams ; the indulgence of arranging 
 ourselves agreeably to our respective circles of ac- 
 quaintance having been granted by Mr. Lonng, of 
 whom, for my own part, I have nothing hard to say. 
 Mr. Forrest and myself were billeted on a Mr. 
 Jacob Suydam. His house was pretty large, con- 
 sisting of buildings which appeared to have been 
 erected at different times, the front and better part 
 of which was in the occupation of Mr. Thcophilact 
 Bache and his family, from New York. Though we 
 were in general civilly enough received, it cannot 
 be supposed that we were very welcome to our 
 Low Dutch hosts, whose habits of living were ex- 
 tremely parsimonious, and whose winter provision 
 was barely sufficient for themselves. Had they 
 been sure of receiving the two dollars a-week, it 
 might have reconciled them to the measure ; but 
 payment appeared to them to depend on the success 
 of our cause (Congress, or ourselves, being looked 
 upon as the paymasters), and its failure, in their 
 eyes, would in both eases induce a stoppage of pay- 
 ment. They were, however, a people who seemed 
 thoroughly disposed to submit to any power 
 which might be set over them ; and whatever might 
 have been their propensities or demonstrations at 
 an earlier stage of the contest, they were now the 
 dutiful and loyal subjects of His Majesty George the 
 Third; and entirely obedient to the behests of their 
 military masters in New York. As it was at the 
 instance of these that we were saddled upon them, 
 they received us with the best grace they could put 
 on. Their houses and beds were found clean, but 
 their living extremely poor, and well calculated to 
 teach the luxurious, how infinitely less than their 
 pampered appetites require, is essential to the suste- 
 natiou of life. In the apostrophe of Lucan, 
 
 O prodiga rerum, 
 Luxuries, nunqnam parvo contenta paratu, 
 Et quiesitorum terra pelagoq-ne ciborum 
 Ambitiosa fames, et lautse gloria mensa; ! 
 Discite quam parvo liceat producere vitam. 
 
 Thus translated by Rowe : 
 
 Behold! ye sons of luxury, behold! 
 Who scatter in excess your lavish gold; 
 You who the wealth of frugal ages waste, 
 T" indulge a wanton supercilious taste ; 
 For whom all earth, all ocean are explnr'd 
 To spread the various proud voluptuous board, 
 Behold 1 how little thrifty nature craves. 
 
 A sorry wash, made up of a sprinkling of bohea, 
 and the darkest sugar on the verge of fluidity, with 
 half-baked bread, fuel being among the scarcest 
 articles at Flat-bush, and a little stale butter, con- 
 stituted our breakfast. At our first coming, a smail 
 piece of pickled beef was occasionally boiled for 
 dinner, but, to the beef which wns soon consumed, 
 succeeded clippers or clams, and our unvaried supper 
 was snpon or mush, sometimes with skimmed milk, 
 but more generally with buttermilk blended with 
 
356 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 molasses, which was kept for weeks in a elmrn, as 
 swill is saved for hogs. I found it, however, after a 
 little use, very eatable ; and supper soon became 
 my best meal. The table company consisted of the 
 master of the house, Mr. Jacob Snydarn, an old 
 bachelor, a young man, a shoemaker of the name of 
 Pen; Hagerman, married to Jacob's niece, who, with 
 a mewling infant in her arms, never failed to appear. 
 A black boy, too, was generally in the room, not as 
 a waiter, but as a 'kind of enfant de maison, who 
 walked about or took post in the chimney corner 
 with his hat on, and occasionally joined in the con- 
 versation. It is probable, that but for us, he would 
 have been placed at the table ; and that it had been 
 the custom before we came. Certain it is, that the 
 idea of equality was more fully and fairly acted 
 upon in this house of a British subject than ever I 
 have seen it practised by the most vehement de- 
 claimed for the rights of mau among ourselves. It 
 is but fair, however, to mention, that I have never 
 been among our transcendent republicans of Virgi- 
 nia, and her dependencies. But notwithstanding 
 some unpleasant circumstances in our establishment, 
 every member of the family, the black fellow, to 
 whom we had been the cause of some" privations, 
 excepted, was exceedingly courteous and accommo- 
 dating. Rem Hagerman, and Yonichy, his wife, 
 gave themselves no airs ; nor was our harmony 
 with uncle Jacob ever interrupted, but on a single 
 occasion, when, soured a little by I know not what 
 provocation, he made a show of knocking down 
 Forrest with a pair of yarn stockings he had just 
 drawn from his legs, as he sat in the chimney-corner 
 one evening preparing for bed. It was, indeed, 
 but an offer, though it might, for aught I know, 
 have amounted to an assault in law, as Jacob was 
 not so far from the person menaced, but that the 
 feet of the stockings, if held by the other extremity, 
 and projected from an extended arm, might possibly 
 have reached him ; and a pair of long-worn yarn 
 stockings, might, from daily alluvian, have acquired 
 somewhat of the properties of a cudgel. But mo- 
 ments of peevishness were allowable to our host ; 
 since, though we had for some time been consuming 
 his provisions, he had never seen a penny of our 
 money, and it was somewhat doubtful, to s:iy the 
 truth, whether he ever would ; for, considering the 
 contractors for our boarding liable for it, we never 
 thought of paying it ourselves. As the Low Dutch 
 are a people little known in Pennsylvania, and 
 more especially, as it is my avowed intention to ad- 
 vert to the character of the time, this sketch of their 
 domestic economy and manners may not be thought 
 impertinent. In a word, from what I saw of them 
 on Long Island, I was led to consider them as a 
 people, quiet and inoffensive beyond any I had seen; 
 such, from whom no enthusiastic efforts, either of 
 good or evil tendency, were to be looked for; who 
 were neither prolific of Catos nor Catilines ; and 
 who, had they been the sole occupants of this great 
 continent of ours, would still have been colonists, 
 and never known what it was to be independent re- 
 publicans. Their religious, like their other habits, 
 were unostentatious and plain ; and a silent grace * 
 
 * Mrs. Grant, in her " Memoirs of an American Lady." 
 speaking of the state of religion among the settlers about 
 Albany, says, "Their religion, like their original rational cha- 
 racter, had in it little of fervor or enthusiasm ; their manner 
 of performing religious duties was regular and decent, but 
 calm, and to more ardent imaginations might appear mechani- 
 cal. iNone ever doubted of the great truths of revelation, yet 
 few seemed to dwell on the result with that lively delight 
 which devotion produces in minds of keener sensibility. If 
 their piety, however, was without enthusiasm, it was also 
 without bigotry; they wished others to think as they did, 
 without showing rancour or contempt towards those who did 
 
 before meat, prevailed at the table of Jacob Suydam. 
 When we were all seated, he suddenly clasped his 
 hands together, threw his head on one side, closed 
 his eyes, and remained mute and motionless for 
 about a minute. His niece and nephew followed his 
 example ; but with such an eager solicitude that the 
 copied attitude should be prompt and simultaneous, 
 as to give an air of absurdity to what might other- 
 wise have been very decent. Although little of the 
 vernacular accent remained on the tongue of these 
 people, they had some peculiarities in their phrase- 
 ology. Among these, instead of asking you to sit, 
 or sit down to table, they invited you to sit by ; 
 : and this I even observed in General Schuyler, when 
 I was at Lake George. It might be asked by a 
 stickling New Yorker, if " sit by" is not as proper, 
 and even more so, than " sit down," which, in strict- 
 ness, is a redundancy. 
 
 OEATOKY. — FEOM NOTES OF A DESTTLTOEY EEADEE. 
 
 Ben Jonson thus speaks of the eloquence of Lord 
 Bacon: "There happened in my time one noble 
 speaker (Lord A 7 "erulam) who was full of gravity in 
 his speaking. His language, where he could spare 
 or pass by a jest, was nobly censorious. No man 
 ever spake more neatly, more prestly, more weightily, 
 or suffered less emptiness, less idleness in what he 
 uttered. No member of his speech but consisted of 
 his own graces. His hearers could not cough or look 
 aside from him without loss. He commanded where 
 he spoke ; and had his judges aDgry or pleased at his 
 devotion. The fear of every one that heard him was, 
 lest he should make an end." 
 
 This is certainly high praise ; but there has been 
 no time or place, perhaps, in which eloquent men 
 have not appeared, upon whom some of their cotem- 
 poraries might not be disposed to pass an equally 
 lofty panegyric. The parliamentary oratory of 
 Lord Bolingbroke has been extolled as unrivalled : 
 so, in later times, have been the speeches of Lords 
 Chatham and Mansfield by their respective friends ; 
 and still more recently, those of Burke, Pitt, Fox, 
 Sheridan, Erskine, and Curran. 
 
 It seems to be matter of just regret, that we have 
 no method of perpetuating the merit of those who 
 have excelled in this captivating art. The genius of 
 the writer is displayed in his works ; that of the 
 painter in his pictures ; that of the composer of music 
 in the note-book which records the " concords of 
 sweet sounds," of which he has been the eliciter or 
 combiner. But, if even the words of the orator are 
 preserved, his manner, his voice, his tones, his looks, 
 his gestures, are lost to future ages ; and the circum- 
 stances which constitute the essence of his art, his 
 action, never go down to posterity. Hence it is that 
 the comparative excellence of Demosthenes and Ci- 
 cero, and that of the other great names which have 
 been mentioned, cannot be estimated; and for the 
 same reason, no scale can be established whereby to 
 determine the relative merits of the " well graced 
 actors," of past times with those of the present, or 
 one with the other, of those who have left the scene. 
 Whether, therefore, with due allowance for na- 
 tional manners and tastes, Le Kain and Clairon of 
 the French stage, were superior to Garrick and Sid- 
 dons of the English ; or whether Betterton, the para- 
 gon of his day, was superior, or in any degree com- 
 parable to Garrick, the paragon of his, must ever 
 remain a mere matter of conjecture, as probably it 
 
 not. In many individuals, whose lives seemed governed by 
 the principles of religion, the spirit of devotion seemed to be 
 quiescent in the heart, and to break forth in exigencies; yet 
 that monster in nature, an impious woman, was never heaid 
 of amoDg them." 
 
TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 
 
 357 
 
 WOtil<3 be of dispute were they all alive and mar- 
 shalled for comparison before the most exquisitely 
 refilled audience that ever crowded a theatre. 
 
 But it is further to be remarked, that there is a 
 fashion in these things, as in all others that are the 
 objects of taste; and that what is called a new 
 school is nothing more than a new fashion, which 
 puts down an old one. They who will not accede 
 to this, but insist that every innovation is an improve- 
 ment, are advocates for human perfectibility, or at 
 least for man's continued progression towards per- 
 fection — a doctrine in which, however well disposed 
 to acquiesce in the orthodoxy of new schools, and 
 new modes, and new fashions, I must profess myself 
 a sceptic. Hence, though I might be disposed to 
 believe that Garriek was a better actor than any of 
 his predecessors, that belief would not be at all 
 founded on the circumstance of his coining after 
 them. This celebrated performer has indeed the 
 credit of correcting some of the acknowledged er- 
 rors of the English stage, particularly the starch and 
 formal manner of its declamation ; and a similar re- 
 form, we are told by Marmontel, was, through his 
 suggestion, effected by Clairon in France. But there 
 may be room for doubting whether, by Garriek, the 
 innovation was not carried too far, since it lias been 
 said, that the poetry of English tragedy, from the 
 adoption of his manner, has been utterly disregarded 
 through an extreme sedulity to eop3? nature : For, 
 without recurring to Voltaire's strong illustration of 
 neahmoins je ports les culotte.% I take it for granted 
 it will be ceded; that tragedy should be written in 
 verse, and that the heroes of this sort of drama 
 should continue to mouth heroics, the natural pro- 
 pensity of human beings to hold discourses in humble 
 prose notwithstanding. 
 
 NOVELS. 
 
 No one, I believe, reads less for the sake of a story 
 than myself; of course, I am but a poor novel reader, 
 and never complain that Tristram Shandy has no 
 story at all. In a book I look for thought, senti- 
 ment, language, humour, wit, and sometimes instruc- 
 tion ; if it has these I care little for the tale; though 
 no doubt where this is the main object it ought to be 
 a good one. But, of all things, in a novel or play, 
 I hate a series of perplexities and cross accidents; 
 for which reason, however admiring Miss Barney's 
 talent for painting life and drawing characters, I 
 always get out of patience with her at the winding 
 up of her plots, as then it is she never fails to pelt 
 her poor hero or heroine with a tempest of unforeseen 
 and distressing occurrences. When the reader, good 
 easy man or woman, fancies that all difficulties at 
 length are over, and is ready to join in congratula- 
 tions with the wedding guests, already invited or 
 about to be invited, there comes a frost, a nipping 
 frost, and the already opening buds of connubial 
 felicity are thrown back to undergo the process of a 
 new vegetation. 
 
 But, of all productions, the most monstrous in my 
 eyes are those in which fiction is engrafted on history. 
 Let me have fact or fable, but not a preposterous 
 mixture of both. There are many, however, who 
 think differently, and I am by no means disposed to 
 impugn the correctness of their opinion. Let each 
 enjoy his own. De gustibus non est disputandum. 
 
 TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 
 The first American ancestor of Timothy Dwiglit 
 eame from Dedham, England, to Dedham, Mas- 
 sachusetts, in 1637. Five generations intervened 
 when the poet and theologian of the name was 
 born, in the oldest male line, at Northampton, 
 Mass., May li, 1752. His father was a mer- 
 
 chant of the town and a graduate of Yale ; his 
 mother was the third daughter of the metaphy- 
 sician Jonathan Edwards — so Dwight came in 
 regular succession to his future reputation, and 
 lie probably owed much of it directly to this lady, 
 for lie received his early education at home. His 
 mother taught him the alphabet in one lesson, and 
 he read the Bible when he was but four years of 
 age. Latin ho studied by himself at six, and 
 would have been ready for college at eight, had 
 not his school been discontinued when he came 
 home to learn his favorite studies of geography 
 and history from his mother. He entered Yale 
 College when he was thirteen, in 1765, where for 
 the first two years, it is said by one of his biogra- 
 phers, that, " through the folly of youth much of 
 his time was misspent," a statement which is 
 explained by an intimation from another biogra- 
 pher that gambling was a vice of the place, and 
 that Dwight, though he played for amusement 
 and never for money, let the sport engross too 
 much of his time. At fifteen, however, he took 
 up study in earnest, occupying fourteen hours a 
 day with his books. He was graduated in 1769, 
 ami for two years was a teacher at New Haven, 
 still continuing his studies. Ho then became a 
 tutor in his college when he was nineteen, and 
 began the composition of his poem the Conquest of 
 Canaan. It was finished within three years, 
 though not published till the conclusion of the 
 Revolutionary war gave literature a hearing in 
 1785, when it appeared with a dedication to 
 Washington. It was reprinted by J. Johnson, in 
 London, in 1788. Dwight taught mathematics, 
 rhetoric, and oratory, in the college for six years. 
 His theme on taking his mastership of arts, was 
 The History, Eloquence, and Poetry of tko Bible, 
 an oration, which was published at the time,* 
 
 * A Dissertation on the History, Eloquence, and Poetry of 
 the Bible, delivered at the Public Commencement at New 
 Haven. New Haven : Thos. & Sam. Green. 1772. 8vo. pp. 16. 
 
358 
 
 CYCLOP JiDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and greatly advanced his reputation by its glow- 
 ing declamation. It has a warm tribute to the 
 eloquence of St. Paul, and instances the noble 
 literature of the Old Testament in the Book of 
 Job, the perfect example of the ode in the one 
 hundred and fourth P^alm, and the beauties of 
 others, particularly the eighteenth, where " the 
 poet's imagination rises to such a height as Pin- 
 dar, Dryden, and. Gray must look up to with as- 
 tonishment and despair." 
 
 Dwight returned to Northampton to recruit 
 his health wasted by study, and establish a con- 
 stitution which remained unimpaired till he was 
 more than sixty. In 1777 he was married to 
 the daughter of an old college companion of his 
 father, Benjamin Woolsey, of Long Island; and 
 the same year being licenced to preach, his services 
 were accepted as chaplain in the army, which he 
 joined at West Point, in which national atmo- 
 sphere, at that national moment, he wrote his fa- 
 mous song of Columbia, which was received with 
 enthusiasm, was published in all the popular col- 
 lections, and has not lost its place in similar quar- 
 ters since. Though somewhat ornate, its spirit 
 and success are not to be questioned. He was 
 with the arm}* a year when his lather's death re- 
 called him to the family at Northampton, where 
 for five j-ears he labored, as preacher and farmer, 
 for their support. He was a member of the state 
 legislature in 1781, and his popularity would have 
 detained him in civil life had lie not deliberately 
 preferred the ministry, the duties of which he ac- 
 cepted at Greenfield, Ct., in 1783, and discharged 
 in the tame place for twelve years, adding to his 
 small stipend of five hundred dollars per annum 
 by the profits of an academy. His poem Green- 
 field Hill, inspired by the neighborhood, ap- 
 peared in 17t)4, with a dedication to John Ad- 
 ams,* and with its predecessor it was republished 
 in England. 
 
 The next year Dwight was chosen to succeed 
 Dr. Stiles in the presidency of Yale College, a 
 post which he filled till his death, twenty-one 
 years after. The chief literary fruits of his new 
 college life were the series of divinity discourses 
 delivered by him to the students,,and which were 
 published after his death, in five volumes, with 
 the title, Theology; Explained and Defended: 
 a work which has exercised an important influ- 
 ence in the congregational denomination of which 
 it is the exponent, has been widely circulated in 
 England, and which has been greatly admired by 
 the author's friends for " its philosophical arrange- 
 ment, its luminous reasonings, its bold and lofty 
 eloquence, and the ability wdiich it evinces to em- 
 ploy different faculties with the best effect, and 
 to do everything in an exceedingly graceful and 
 perfect manner.''! 
 
 In the year 1800 he revised Watts's Psalms, at 
 the request of the General Association of Con- 
 necticut, adding translations of his own, which 
 Watts had not attempted, and annexing a selec- 
 
 * Greenfield Hill : a Poem in Seven Parts. I. The Pros- 
 pect. II. The Flourishing Village. III. The BurniDgof Fair- 
 field. IV. The Destruction of the Pequods. V. The Clergy- 
 man's Advice to the Villagers. VI. The Farmer's Advice to 
 the Villagers. VII. The Vision ; or. Prospect of the Future 
 Happiness of America. By Timothy Dwight, D.D. New 
 York : Printed by Childs &°SwaiDe, 1794. 8vo. pp. 188. 
 
 t Dr. William B. Sprague's Life of Dwight. Sparks' s Am. 
 Biog., Second Series, vol. iv. 
 
 tion of Hymns; both of which were approved of 
 and adopted by the General Assembly of the 
 Presbyterian Church. As a favorable specimen 
 of his execution in this fine, the version of the 
 one hundred and thirty-seventh Psalm, which 
 Joel Barlow had previously as well succeeded 
 with, may be instanced : — 
 
 /" 
 
 PSALM exxxvxr. 
 I love thy kingdom, Lord, 
 The house of thine abode, 
 The church, our blest Redeemer sav'd 
 With his own precious blood. 
 
 I love thy Church, God ! 
 Her walls before the"e stand, 
 Dear as the apple of thine eye, 
 And graven on thy hand. 
 
 If e'er to bless thy sons 
 My voice, or hands, deny, 
 These hands let useful skill forsake, 
 This voice in silence die. 
 
 If e'er my heart forget 
 Her welfare, or her wo, 
 Let every joy this heart forsake, 
 And every grief o'erflow. 
 
 For her my tears shall fall ; 
 For her my prayers ascend ; 
 To her my cares and toils be given, 
 'Till toils and cares shall end. 
 
 Beyond my highest joy 
 I prize her heavenly waj's, 
 Her sweet communion, solemn vows. 
 Her hymns of love and praise. 
 
 Jesus, thou Friend divine, 
 Our Saviour and our King, 
 Thy hand from every snare and foe 
 Shall great deliverance bring. 
 
 Sure as thy truth shall last, 
 To Zion shall be given 
 The brightest glories, earth can yield, 
 And brighter bliss of heaven. 
 
 This has been adopted, beyond the limits of 
 Dwight's own denomination, in the Hymn-book 
 of the Protestant Episcopal Church. 
 
 His vacations for the whole of his presidency 
 were passed in travelling excursions, when travel- 
 ling, before the days of the locomotives, was a 
 quiet, leisurely individual affair, which led into 
 by-places, was inquisitive of nature, gave country 
 landlords an opportunity to exhibit themselves, 
 and time was afforded to see the local great men on 
 the way,* as he journied through the neighboring 
 states of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode 
 Island, and New York. He visited the White 
 Mountains, Lake George, Montauk, Niagara, the 
 Kaatskills, and various other localities, keeping 
 notes of his journeys, written out in the form of 
 letters, which compose the series published in 
 
 * Dennie's Farmer^ Mimeum, at "Walpole, contains a pass- 
 ing newspaper benediction on one of these pilgrimages, Sep- 
 tember 25. 1797. "This morning, tile truly respectable Presi- 
 dent of Yale College proceeded from this village on a journey 
 to the Upper Coos; whence, we understand, he intends passing 
 over the White Mountains to Hallowell, in the district of Maine. 
 His rugged tour will, we hope, be relieved by those civilities 
 which are due to the gentleman, the scholar, and the ui.affccu-J 
 Christian." 
 
TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 
 
 350- 
 
 1821, after his death, of Travels in New England 
 and New Tori. Southey, who saw in the four 
 well filled volumes admirable material for the his- 
 tory of a new state, what Miss Martineau has 
 since called " world maMng," in the natural his- 
 tor}' observations, the sketches of Indian life, the 
 notices of education, domestic manners, and social 
 progress, pronounces this " the most important of 
 Dwight's writings, a work which will derive 
 additional value from time, whatever may become 
 of his poetr}' and of his sermons."* 
 
 Dwight's House in New Haven. 
 
 In 1816 Dwight was seized with the illness — 
 an alarming affection of the bladder — which, 
 though it was partially relieved by a surgical ope- 
 ration, caused his death the year after, January 
 11, 1817, in his sixty-fifth year. He employed 
 the last months of his life in compositions on tho 
 evidences of revelation, and in the completion of 
 a poem of fifteen hundred lines, the description 
 of a contest between Genius and Common Sense. 
 
 The personal influence of Dwight should not 
 be overlooked in an estimate of his position. He 
 appears to have been "every inch" a president. 
 His popularity with the students was unbounded, 
 and was maintained by no sacrifice of self- 
 respect, for Dwight was always courtly and dig- 
 nified. A lady, who saw him in her youth, when 
 he visited an old college companion, her father, 
 the Rev. Joseph Buckminster, Mrs. Lee, says that 
 when he entered the humble parsonage, he ap- 
 peared to her youthful observation to possess " the 
 lofty politeness, the priestly dignity of the Bishop 
 of London, as made known by the pen of Han- 
 nah More.''t The portrait by Trumbull exhibits 
 
 * The Quarterly Review, Oct. 1828, Art. i. 
 
 + Memoirs of the Kev. Joseph Buckminster, by Eliza Buck- 
 minster Lee. Dr. Sprague, in his Memoir in Sparks's series, 
 describes his form as "stately and majestic, and every way well 
 proportioned. His features were regular, his eye black and 
 piercing, yet benignant, and his countenance altogether indi- 
 cative of a high order of mind. Ills voice was rich and melo- 
 dious, adapted alike to music and oratory.' 1 An incidental trait 
 is in accordance with this description. His hand-writing was 
 so elegant that there are portions of it which cannot readily he 
 distinguished from the finest copper-plate engraving. One of 
 the very last acts of bis life, in his dying hours, was an exhibi- 
 tion of gentlemanly courtesy. His family around him, dis- 
 tracted by their grief, had failed to notice two ladies who came 
 to visit him. He spoke to them, and directed one of his chil- 
 dren to "hand chairs." It was, as Dr. Sprague, who has pre- 
 served the anecdote, remarks, "the instinctive prompting of 
 that inwrought sense of propriety that had constituted through 
 life a leading element both of bis popularity and usefulness. 
 
 this ease and self-command, which was built up 
 upon some noble traits of character, a sense of 
 duty, a higher order of industry, and an ardent 
 fire of genius in youth. In Dwight's early poems 
 we see a heat of honest enthusiasm sufficient to 
 warm the faculties through life. These produc- 
 tions have been hardly dealt with. They are 
 worth something more than to furnish a dull jest 
 at epic failures. The Conquest of Canaan, it 
 should be remembered, was the production of a 
 youth hardly out of college, and should be looked 
 tit as a series of poetic sketches, not over nice in 
 rhetorical treatment or obedience to the laws of 
 Aristotle. In that view it contains much pleasing 
 writing, but the word epic should never be brought 
 in contact with it. His biographer thinks its re- 
 ception was marred by the general prevalence of 
 infidelity at the time of its publication.* If so, 
 the injury may have been somewhat abated by 
 the appearance, soon after, of the Triumph of 
 Infidelity, an anonymous poem from his pen, 
 which dealt some trenchant blows at scoffers in 
 high places. But the truth is, that no amount of 
 religious belief held in its utmost purity can en- 
 tirely overcome the indifference of readers as they 
 make their way through the long monotonous pages 
 of the Conquest of Canaan. The lines are sound- 
 ing in couplets ; the caesura gives breath and the 
 rhymes ring well, but little impression is made 
 upon tho mind. The characters are too little dis- 
 criminated, and the maimers have too little exact- 
 ness to fix the attention. The warriors are nu- 
 merous, and one warrior is like another. The 
 lovers, Irad and Sclima, are exemplary; one is 
 brave and the other virtuous, but their conversa- 
 tion is tedious. The action has not the merit of 
 a close adherence to the original ; so history is 
 damaged without poetry being much the gainer. 
 The interpolations of the combats of the Ameri- 
 can Revolution in the wars of the Israelites had, 
 doubtless, a sound patriotic intention, but would 
 be fatal to a better poem. Yet we may find many 
 vigorous passages in the volume, which show a 
 fine glow of the imagination. The similes are 
 numerous, and many of them are striking. He 
 thus treats Niagara in a comparison of the onset 
 of battle: — 
 
 Mean time from distant guards a cry ascends, 
 And round the camp the dinning voice extends; 
 Th' alarming trump resounds ; the martial train 
 Pour from the teuts, and crowd th' accustom'd plain, 
 In mazy "wanderings, thickening, darkening, roll, 
 Fill all the field, and shade the boundless pole. 
 As where proud Erie winds her narrowing shores, 
 And o'er huge hills a boiling ocean pours, 
 The long white-sheeted foam, with fury hurl'd, 
 Down the cliffs thundering, shakes the stable world. 
 In solemn grandeur clouds of mist arise, 
 Top the tall pines, and heavy seek the skies: 
 So spread the volumes of the dust afar; 
 So roar the clamors of commeucing war. 
 
 This prophetic passage, in which the author 
 evidently has America in view, may boast at least 
 one fine couplet : — • 
 
 Then o'er wide lands, as blissful Eden bright, 
 Tj'pe of the skies, and seats of pure delight, 
 
 * Memoirs of the Life of tho Author, prefixed to the The- 
 ology. 
 
360 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Our sons, -with prosperous course, shall stretch their 
 
 sway, 
 And claim an empire, spread from sea to sea: 
 In one great whole th' harmonious tribes combine ; 
 Trace Justice' path, and choose their chiefs divine; 
 On Freedom's base erect the heavenly plan; 
 Teach laws to reign, and save the rights of man. 
 Then smiling Art shall wrap the fields in bloom, 
 Fine the rich ore, and guide the useful loom ; 
 Then lofty towers in golden pomp arise ; 
 Then spiry cities meet auspicious skies: 
 The 60ul on Wisdom's wing sublimely soar, 
 New virtues cherish, and new truths explore: 
 Thro' time's long tract our name celestial run, 
 Climb in the cast, and circle with the sun ; " 
 And smiling Glory stretch triumphant wings 
 O'er hosts of heroes, and o'er tribes of kings. 
 
 The birds crowning the jubilee of returning 
 day after a storm are introduced with beauty in 
 the following scene, which glitters with sun- 
 shine: — 
 
 Then gentler scenes his rapt attention g.iin'd, 
 Where Goo's great hand in clear effulgence reign'd, 
 The growing beauties of the solemn even, 
 And all the bright sublimities of heaven. 
 Above tall western hills, the light of day 
 Shot far the splendors of his golden ray ; 
 Bright from the storm, with tenfold grace he smil'd, 
 The tumult soften'd and the world grew mild. 
 With pomp transcendnnt, rob'd in heavenly dyes, 
 Arch'd the clear rainbow round the orient skies; 
 Its changeless form, its hues of beam divine, 
 Fair type of truth, and beauty endless shine, 
 Around th' expanse, with thousand splendors rare ; 
 Gay clouds sail'd wanton through the kindling air; 
 From shade to shade, unnumber'd tinctures blend ; 
 Unnumber'd forms of wondrous light extend; 
 In pride stupendous, glittering Avails aspire, 
 Grac'd with bright domes, and crown'd with towers 
 
 of fire. 
 On cliffs cliffs burn ; o'er mountains mountains roll : 
 A burst of glory spreads from pole to pole: 
 Rapt with the splendor, every songster sings, 
 Tops the high bough, and claps his glistening wings: 
 With new-born green, reviving nature blooms, 
 And sweeter fragrance freshening air perfumes. 
 
 The gentle Cowper, who wrote a favorable 
 critique on the poem in the Analytical Review,* 
 notices this description of Night as "highly 
 poetical." 
 
 Now Night, in vestments rob'd, of cloudy dye, 
 With sable grandeur cloth'd the orient sky, 
 Impell'd the sun, obsequious to her reign, 
 Down the far mountains to the western main; 
 With magic hand, beealm'd the solemn even, 
 And drew day's curtain from the spangled heaven. 
 At once the planets sail'd around the throne: 
 At once ten thousand worlds in splendor shone: 
 Behind her car, the moon's expanded eye 
 Rose from a cloud, and look'd around the sky: 
 Far up th' immense her train sublimely roll, 
 And dance, and triumph, round the lucid pole. 
 Faint shine the fields, beneath the shadowy ray: 
 Slow fades the glimmering of the west away ; 
 To sleep the tribes retire ; and not a sound 
 Flows through the air, or murmurs on the ground. 
 
 There is a glowing picture of the millennium. 
 Indeed, the reader is oppressed by the uniform 
 
 * Southey's Works of Cowper, Ed. 1S26, vii. 314. 
 
 eloquence of the description. It is too florid. 
 The natural powers of the writer appear in the 
 poem, injured by the study of Pope's declamatory 
 pieces. 
 
 It is said to have been at the suggestion of the 
 poet Trumbull, his fellow tutor at the time in the 
 college, that Dwight wrote the animated descrip- 
 tion of the battle lighted by the burning city of 
 Ai, in the seventh book. The author of M'Fingal 
 had another hint in his own humorous way for the 
 laborious young poet. In allusion to the number 
 of thunder-storms described in the portion of the 
 poem handed him to read, he requested that when 
 he sent in the remainder, a lightning rod might be 
 included. 
 
 Dwight's literary compositions are represented 
 by two leading ideas — his religion and his patriot- 
 ism. The former is sustained in his Theology and 
 in his Triumph of Infidelity, and in some line pas- 
 sages in Greenfield Hill ; the latter in his remarks 
 on the Review of Inehiquin's Letters, and in many 
 pages of his travels. In the poem on Infidelity, 
 and his passage with the Quarterly Review, he 
 does not mince matters, but shows the hand of a 
 bold vigorous pamphleteer. The Triumph of Infi- 
 delity ; a Poem. Printed in the World, 1788 : 
 was sent forth with no other title. It is an octa- 
 vo of forty pages, levelled at the unbelieving 
 spirit of the century then drawing to its close. It 
 is dedicated to Mods, de Voltaire : " Sir, your 
 Creator endued you with shining talents, and cast 
 your lot in a field of action, where they might be 
 most happily employed: In the progress of a long 
 and industrious life, you devoted them to a single 
 purpose, the elevation of your character above 
 his. For the accomplishment of this purpose, 
 with a diligence and uniformity which would have 
 adorned the most virtuous pursuits, you opposed 
 truth, religion, and their authors, with sophistry, 
 contempt, and obloquy ; and taught, as far as 
 your example or sentiments extended their influ- 
 ence, that the chief end of man was, to slander his 
 God, and abuse him for ever. To whom could 
 such an effort as the following he dedicated, with 
 more propriety than to you." 
 
 The satire is full of indignation ; with more 
 polish, it could not fail to have become widely 
 celebrated. Here are a few of its strong lines : — 
 
 THE SMOOTH DIVTNE. 
 
 There smil'd the smooth Divine, unus'd to wound 
 
 The sinner's heart, with hell's alarming sound. 
 
 No terrors on bis gentle tongue attend; 
 
 No grating truths the nicest ear offend. 
 
 That strange new-birth, that inethodistic grace, 
 
 Nor in bis heart, nor sermons found a place. 
 
 Plato's fine tales he clumsily retold, 
 
 Trite, fireside, moral seesaws, dull as old ; 
 
 His Christ, and bible, plac'd at good remove, 
 
 Guilt hell-deserving, and forgiving love. 
 
 'Twas best, he said, mankind should cease to sin; 
 
 Good fame requir'd it; so did peace within: 
 
 Their honours, well he knew, would ne'er be driven. 
 
 But hop'd they still would please to go to heaven. 
 
 Each week, he paid his visitation dues ; 
 
 CoaxM, jested, laugh'd; rehears'd the private news; 
 
 Smoak'd with each goody, thought her cheese ex- 
 
 cell'd ; 
 Her pipe he lighted, and her baby held. 
 Or plac'd in some great town, with laequer'd shoes, 
 Trim wig, and trimmer gown, and glistening hose. 
 
TIMOTHY WIGHT. 
 
 3G1 
 
 He bow'd, talk'd politics, learn'd manners mild ; 
 Most meekly questioned, and most smoothly smil'd ; 
 At rich men's jests laugh' d loud, their stories prais'd ; 
 Their wives' new patterns gaz'd, and gaz'd, and 
 
 gaz'd ; 
 Most daintily on pamper'd turkies din'd; 
 Nor shrunk with fasting, nor with study pin'd : 
 Yet from their churches saw his brethren driven, 
 Who thunder'd truth, and spoke the voice of heaven, 
 Chill'd trembling guilt, in Satan's headlong path, 
 Charm'd the feet back, and rous'd the ear of death. 
 "Let fools," lie cried, " starve on, while prudent I 
 Snug in my nest shall live, and snug shall die."* 
 
 The picture of the good divine in Greenfield 
 Hill, the opposite of this rough outline, is highly 
 pleasing. 
 
 When the malignant review of Inchiquin's Let- 
 ters appeared in the (London) Quarterly for Jan. 
 1814, its bitterness and contempt were so unspar- 
 ing and its falsehood so gross, that Dwight, though 
 its abuse was partly directed against Jefferson and 
 others whom he did not hold in particular favor, 
 thought it necessary to reply. His work, an oc- 
 tavo of one hundred and seventy-six pages, was 
 entitled, Remarks on the Review of IncMquirfs 
 Letters, published in the Quarterly Review ; ad- 
 dressed to the Right Honorable George Canning, 
 Esq., by an Inhabitant of New England ; and was 
 published in Boston in 1815. It carries the war 
 into Africa, contrasting every defect urged against 
 America with a corresponding iniquity in Eng- 
 land, and exonerating his countrymen from many 
 of the charges as utterly unfounded. It meets 
 the reviler with language as loud and with facts 
 severer than his own. It shows that under his 
 polished exterior the fires of his youth still glowed 
 in the college President. 
 
 Greenfield Hill is an idyllic poem of rare merit. 
 A little more nicety of execution and a better 
 comprehension of the design at the outset, would 
 doubtless have improved it ; but the spirit is 
 there. It is noticeable that it was undertaken as 
 an imitation or adaptation of different English 
 poets ; but the author found the labor of pursuing 
 this plan too great, and fell off, or rather rose to 
 original invention. This has often happened in 
 English literature, and some of the best successes 
 are due to this effort, which the genius of the 
 writer has soon transcended ; as in the Castle of 
 Indolence and the Splendid Shilling, to which 
 may be added Trumbull's M'Fingal. Thus Dwight, 
 commencing with Beattie and Goldsmith, soon 
 runs into measures and incidents of his own ; or 
 turns the contrast of American manners to happy 
 account, as in his picture of " the Flourishing Vil- 
 lage" of Greenfield, where he finds in theallot- 
 ment of estates and the absence of manorial pri- 
 vileges, the opposite of " the Deserted Village." 
 The general plan of the poem is thus sketched by 
 the author in his " Introduction :" — 
 
 In the Parish of Greenfield, in the town of Fair- 
 field, in Connecticut, there'is a pleasant and beauti- 
 ful eminence, called Greenfield Hill ; at the distance 
 of three miles from Long Island Sound. On this 
 eminence, there is a small but handsome village, a 
 church, academy, <fee., all of them alluded to in the fol- 
 
 * The Triumph of Infidelity was never acknowledged bv the 
 author, but never denied by him. It was well understood to 
 be from his pen. 
 
 lowing poem. From the highest part of the eminence, 
 the eye is presented with an extensive and delight- 
 ful prospect of the surrounding country, and of the 
 Sound. On this height, the writer is supposed to 
 stand. The first object, there offering itself to his 
 view, is the landscape ; which is accordingly made 
 the governing subject of the first part of the Poem. 
 The flourishing and happy condition of the inhabit- 
 ants very naturally suggested itself next ; and be- 
 came of course the subject of the Second Part. The 
 town of Fairfield, lying in full view, and, not long 
 before the poem wa3 begun and in a great measure 
 written out, burnt by a party of British troops, un- 
 der the command of Governor Trvon, furnished the 
 theme of the Third Part. A field, called the Pe- 
 quod Swamp, in which most of the warriors of that 
 nation who survived the invasion of their country 
 by Capt. Mason, were destroyed, lying about three 
 miles from the eminence above-mentioned, and on the 
 margin of the Sound, suggested, not unnaturally, the 
 subject of the Fourth Part. 
 
 As the writer is the minister of Greenfield, he can- 
 not be supposed to be uninterested in the welfare of 
 his parishioners. To excite their attention to the 
 truths 'and duties of religion (an object in such a 
 situation instinctively rising to his view) is the de- 
 sign of the Fifth Part; and to promote in them just 
 sentiments and useful conduct, for the present life, 
 (an object closely connected with the preceding one) 
 of the Sixth. 
 
 The landscape, the characters, and the ideas of 
 the poem are American ; the language in a few 
 instances belongs to English poets ; but the author 
 has handsomely acknowledged the obligation in 
 his notes. Of the more characteristic portions, 
 the description of the school, the affectionate pic- 
 ture of the village clergyman, the Indian war, the 
 Connecticut farmer's prudential maxims, with the 
 whole scope of the political reflections, are purely 
 American. 
 
 Several members of the Dwight family have ap- 
 peared as authors. The brother of the President, 
 Theodore Dwight, occupied for a long time a dis- 
 tinguished part in the affairs of the country. He 
 was born at Northampton in 1765, and studied 
 law after the Revolution with his uncle Judge 
 Pierpont Edwards. He had a hand in the poeti- 
 cal and political essays of the Echo, in the Hart- 
 ford Mercury, in common with Hopkins and 
 Alsop. He was an eminent Federalist, and was 
 chosen the secretary of the Hartford Convention. 
 In 1815, he commenced the Albany Daily Adver- 
 tiser with the support of the leading politicians of 
 his party in the state; and in 1817 engaged in 
 the publication and editorship of the New York 
 Daily Advertiser, which he continued till 1835, 
 when he retired to Hartford. In 1833, his His- 
 tory of the Hartford Convention appeared at New 
 York; and in 1839, his Character of Thomas Jef- 
 ferson as exhibited in his own writings, at Bos- 
 ton — a book of a partisan political character. 
 Be died June 11, 1846. 
 
 His son, Theodore Dwight, is the author of a 
 History of Connecticut, in 1841, and of a volume 
 on the Revolution of 1848. He is a resident of 
 New York. 
 
 In 1829, a son of the president, Henry E. 
 Dwight, published a volume in New York of 
 Travels in the North of Germany, in the years 
 1825 and 1826 ; presenting " a view of the reli- 
 gious, literary, and political institutions of north- 
 
362 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 em Germany, and their influence on society ; the 
 arts, the present state of religion, schools, and 
 universities." 
 
 Another son of the president, Sereno E.Dwight, 
 was author of the Life of Jonathan Edwards. A 
 volume of his sermons has been published with a 
 Memoir, by the Rev. William Lhvight, of Port- 
 land, Maine. 
 
 Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 
 The queen of the world, and child of the skies 1 
 Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold, 
 While ages on ages thy splendours unfold. 
 Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time. 
 Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; 
 Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, 
 Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame. 
 
 To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire: 
 Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire : 
 Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
 And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 
 A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws, 
 Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; 
 On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise, 
 Extend with the main, and' dissolve with the skies. 
 Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, 
 And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star. 
 New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar 
 To fame uuextinguish'd when time is no more ; 
 To thee, the last refuge of virtue desigu'd, 
 Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind ; 
 Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring 
 Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring. 
 
 Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, 
 And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend; 
 The graces of form shall awake pure desire, 
 And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ; 
 Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd, 
 And Virtue's bright image instamp'd on the mind, 
 With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, 
 And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. 
 
 Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display, 
 
 The nations admire, and the oceans obey ; 
 
 Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, 
 
 And the east and the south yield their spices and 
 
 gold. 
 As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall 
 
 flow, 
 And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow ; 
 While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd, 
 Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. 
 
 Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, 
 From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd — ■ 
 The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd ; 
 The winds eeas'd to murmur ; the thunders expir'd ; 
 Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along, 
 And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: 
 " Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 
 The queen of the world, and the child of the skies." 
 
 THE TRAVELLED APE — FROM AN EPISTLE TO COL. HUMPHREYS, 
 1765. 
 
 Oft has thine eye, with glance indignant seen 
 
 Columbia's youths, unfolding into men, 
 
 Their minds to improve, their manners to adorn, 
 
 To Europe's climes by fond indulgence borne ; 
 
 Oft hast thou seen those youths, at custom's shrine, 
 
 Victims to pride, to folly, and to sin, 
 
 Of worth bereft, of real sense forlorn, 
 
 Their land forget, their friends, their freedom, spurn ; 
 
 Each noble cause, each solid good desert 
 
 For splendour happiness, and truth for art; 
 The plain, frank manners of their race despise, 
 Fair without fraud, and great without disguise ; 
 Where, thro' the life the heart uncover'd ran, 
 And spoke. the native dignity of man. 
 
 For these, the gain let Virtue blush to hear, 
 And each sad parent drop the plaintive tear! 
 Train'd in foul stews, impoison d by the stage, 
 Hoyl'd into gaming, Keyser'd into age, 
 To smooth hypocrisy by Stanhope led, 
 To truth an alien, and to virtue dead, 
 Swoln with an English butcher's sour disdain, 
 Or to a fribble dwindled from a man, 
 Homeward again behold the jackdaw run, 
 And yield his sire the ruins of a son ! 
 
 What tho' his mind no thought has e'er perplex'd, 
 Converse illum'd, or observations vex'd ; 
 Yet here, in each debate, a judge he shines, 
 Of all, that man enlarges, or refines; 
 Religion, science, politics, and song; 
 A prodigy his parts ; an oracle his tongue. 
 Ope wide your mouths ; your knees in homage bend ; 
 Hist! hist! ye mere Americans attend; 
 While Curl discloses to the raptur'd view 
 What Peter, Paul, and Moses, never knew ; 
 The light of new-born wisdom sheds abroad, 
 And adds a *leanto to the word of God. 
 What Creole wretch shall dare, with home-made 
 
 foils, 
 Attack opinions, brought three thousand miles ; 
 Sense, in no common way to mortals given, 
 But on Atlantic travellers breath'd by Heaven ; 
 A head, en queue, by Monsieur Frizzle dress'd; 
 Manners, a Paris tailor's arts invest; 
 Pure criticism, form'd from acted plays ; 
 And graces, that would even a Stanhope grace? 
 Commercial wisdom, merchants here inhale 
 From him, whose eye hath seen the unfinish'd bale; 
 Whose feet have pass'd the shop, where pins were 
 
 sold, 
 The wire was silver'd, and the heads were roll'dl 
 Conven'd, ye lawyers, make 3-our humblest leg! 
 Here stands the man has seen Lord Mansfield's wig! 
 Physicians hush'd, hear Galen's lips distil, 
 From Buchan's contents, all the Art to heal! 
 Divines, with reverence, cease your Scripture whims, 
 And learn this male Minerva's moral schemes; 
 Schemes theologic found in Drury-lane, 
 That prove the Bible false, and virtue vain! 
 Heavens! shall a child in learning, and in wit, 
 O'er Europe's climes, a bird of passage flit ; 
 There, as at home, his stripling self unknown, 
 By novel wonders stupified to stone, 
 Shut from the wise, and by no converse taught, 
 No well-read day, nor hour of serious thought, 
 His head by pleasure, vice, and hurry, turn'd, 
 All prudence trampled, all improvements spurn'd ; 
 Shall he, with less of Europe in his cap, 
 Than satchell'd school-boy guesses from the map, 
 On every subject struttingly decree, 
 Ken the far shore, and search the unfathom'd sea, 
 Where learning has her lamp for ages oil'd, 
 Where Newton ponders, and where Berkeley toil'df 
 Of all the plagues, that rise in human shape, 
 Good Heaven, preserve us from the travell'd Ape! 
 9 
 
 FALL OF EMPIRE — FROM GREENFIELD HILL. 
 
 Ah me ! while up the long, long vale of time, 
 Reflection wanders towards til' eternal vast, 
 How starts the eye, at many a change sublime, 
 Unbosom'd dimly by the ages pass'd! 
 What Mausoleums crowd the mournful waste ! 
 
 * An awkward addition to a dwelling-house, very common 
 H in New England. 
 
TIMOTHY D WIGHT. 
 
 303 
 
 The tombs of empires fallen I and nations gone 1 
 Each, once inscrib'd, in gold, with " Ave to last," 
 Sate as a queen ; proclaim'd the world her own, 
 And proudly cried, " By me no sorrows shall be 
 known." 
 
 Soon fleets the sunbright Form, by man ador'd. 
 
 Soon fell the Head of gold, to Time a prey ; 
 
 The Arms, the Trunk, his cankering tooth devour'd: 
 
 And whirlwinds blew the Iron dust away. 
 
 Where dwelt imperial Timur? — far astray, 
 
 Some lonely-musing pilgrim now enquires: 
 
 And, rack'd by storms, and hastening to decay, 
 
 Mohammed's Mosque foresees its final fires; 
 
 And Rome's more lordly Temple day by day expires. 
 
 As o'er proud Asian realms the traveller winds, 
 His manly spirit, hush'd by terror, falls ; 
 When some deceased town's lost site he finds, 
 Where ruin wild his pondering eye appals; 
 Where silence swims along the moulder'd walls, 
 And broods upon departed Grandeur's tomb. 
 Through the lone, hollow aisles sad Echo, calls, 
 At each slow step : deep sighs the breathing gloom, 
 And weeping fields, around, bewail their Empress' 
 doom. 
 
 Where o'er an hundred realms, the throne uprose, 
 The screech-owl nests, the panther builds his home; 
 Sleep the dull newts, the lazy adders doze, 
 Where pomp and luxury dane'd the golden room. 
 Low lies in dust the sky-resembled dome ; 
 Tall grass around the broken column waves ; 
 And brambles climb, and lonely thistles bloom ; 
 The moulder'd arch the weedy streamlet laves, 
 And low resound, beneath, unnumber'd Bunken 
 graves. 
 
 Soon fleets the sun-bright Form, by man ador'd ; 
 And soon man's deemou chiefs from memory fade. 
 In musty volume, now must be explor'd, 
 Where dwelt imperial nations, long decay'd. 
 The brightest meteors angry clouds invade; 
 And where the wonders glitter'd, none explain. 
 Where Carthage, with proud hand, the trident 
 
 eway'd, 
 Now mud-w:dl'd cots sit sullen on the plain, 
 And wandering, fierce, and wild, sequester'd Arabs 
 
 reign. 
 
 In thee, Albion ! queen of nations, live 
 Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have 
 
 known ; 
 In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive ; 
 And Greece her arts; and Rome her lordly throne : 
 By every wind, thy Tyrian fleets are blown ; 
 Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand; 
 All ocean's realms thy naval sceptre own ; 
 Of bards, of sages, how august thy baud! 
 And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land. 
 
 But how vast thy crimes ! Through heav'n's great 
 
 year, 
 When few centurial suns have trae'd their way ; 
 When southern Europe, worn by feuds severe; 
 Weak, doting, fallen, has bow'd to Russian sway; 
 And setting Glory beam'd her farewell ray ; 
 To wastes, perchance, thy brilliant fields shall turn; 
 In dust, thy temples, towers, and towns decay ; 
 The forest howl, where London's turrets burn ; 
 And all thy garlands deck thy sad, funereal urn. 
 
 Some land, scarce glimmering in the light of fame, 
 Scepter'd with arts and arms (if I divine), 
 Some unknown wild, some shore without a name, 
 In all thy pomp, shall then majestic shine. 
 As silver-headed Time's slow years decline, 
 Hot ruins oidy meet th' enquiring eye; 
 
 Where round yon mouldering oak vain brambles 
 
 twine, 
 The filial stem, already towering high, 
 Erelong shall stretch his arms, and nod in yonder 
 
 sky. 
 
 EOUND OF AMERICAN LIFE — FROM GREEJiFTGLD HILL. 
 
 In this New World, life's changing round, 
 In three descents, is often found. 
 The first, firm, busy, plodding, poor, 
 Earns, saves, and daily swells, his store ; 
 By farthings first, and pence, it grows ; 
 In shillings next, and pounds, it flows; 
 Then spread his widening farms, abroad; 
 His forests wave ; his harvests nod ; 
 Fattening, his numerous cattle play, 
 And debtors dread his reckoning day. 
 Ambitious then t'adorn with knowledge 
 His son, he places him at college ; 
 And sends, in smart attire, and neat, 
 To travel, thro' each neighbouring state; 
 Builds him a handsome house, or buys, 
 Sees him a gentleman, and dies. 
 
 The second, born to wealth and ease, 
 And taught to think, converse, and please. 
 Ambitious, with his lady-wife, 
 Aims at a higher walk of life. 
 Yet, in those wholesome habits train'd, 
 By which his wealth, and weight, were gaiu'J, 
 Bids care in hand with pleasure go, 
 And blends economy with show. 
 His houses, fences, garden, dress, 
 The neat and thrifty man confess. 
 Improv'd, but with i nproveinent plain, 
 Intent on office, as on gain, 
 Exploring, useful sweets to spy, 
 To public life he turns his eye. 
 A townsman first ; a justice soon ; 
 A member of the house anon ; 
 Perhaps to board, or bench, invited, , 
 
 He sees the state, and subjects, righted; 
 And, raptur'd with politic life, 
 Consigns Ins children to his wife. 
 Of household cares amid the round, 
 For her, too hard the task is found. 
 At first she struggles, and contends ; 
 Then doubts, desponds, laments, and bends ; 
 Her sons pursue the sad defeat, 
 And shout their victory complete; 
 Rejoicing, see their father roam, 
 And riot, rake, and reign, at home, 
 Too late he sees, and sees to mourn, 
 His race of every hope forlorn, 
 Abroad, for comfort, turns his eyes, 
 Bewails his dire mistakes, and dies. 
 
 His heir, train'd only to enjoy. 
 Untaught his mind, or hands t' employ, 
 Conscious of wealth, enough for life, 
 With business, care, and worth, at strife, 
 By prudence, conscience, unrcstrain'd, 
 And none, but pleasure's habits, gain'd, 
 Whirls on the wild career of sense, 
 Nor danger marks, nor heeds expense. 
 Soon ended is the giddy round; 
 And soon the fatal goal is found. 
 His lands, seeur'd for borrow'd gold, 
 His houses, horses, herds, are sold. 
 And now, no more for wealth respected. 
 He 6inks, by all his friends neglected ; 
 Friends, who, before, his vices flatter'd, 
 And liv'd upon the loaves he scatter'd. 
 Unacted every worthy part. 
 And pining with a broken heart, 
 To dirtiest company he flies 
 
3G1 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Whores, gambles, turns a sot, and dies. 
 His children born to fairer doom, 
 In rags, pursue him to the tomb. 
 
 Apprentie'd then to masters stern, 
 Some real good the orphans learn ; 
 Are bred to toil, and hardy fare, 
 And grow to usefulness, and care ; 
 And, following their great^grandsire's plan, 
 Each slow becomes a useful man. 
 
 Such here is life's swift-circling round ; 
 So soon arc all its changes found, 
 Would you prevent th' allotment hard, 
 And fortune's rapid whirl retard, 
 In all your race, industrious care 
 Attentive plant, and faithful rear ; 
 With life, th' important task begin, 
 Nor but with life, the task resign; 
 To habit, bid the blessings grow, 
 Habits alone yield good below. 
 
 THE VILLAGE CLERGYMAN — FEOit GEEENFIELD HILL. 
 
 Where western Albion's happy clime 
 Still brightens to the eye of time, 
 A village lies. In all his round, 
 The sun a fairer never found. 
 The woods were tall, the hillocks green, 
 The vallies laugh'd the hills between, 
 Thro' fairy meads the rivers roll'd, 
 The meadows fiower'd in vernal gold, 
 The days were bright, the mornings fair, 
 And evening lov'd to linger there. 
 There, twinn'd in brilliant fields above, 
 Sweet sisters ! sported Peace and Love; 
 While Virtue, like a blushing bride, 
 Seren'd, and brighten'd, at their side. 
 
 At distance from that happy way, 
 The path of sensual Pleasure lay, 
 Afar Ambition's summit rose, 
 And Avarice dug his mine of woes. 
 
 The place, with east and western sides, 
 A wide and verdant street divides: 
 And here the houses fae'd the day, 
 And there the lawns in beauty lay. 
 There, turret-crowu'd, and central, stood 
 A neat, and solemn house of God, 
 Across the way, beneath the shade, 
 Two elms with sober silence spread, 
 The Preacher liv'd. O'er all the place 
 His mansion cast a Sunday grace ; 
 Dumb stillness sate the fields around; 
 His garden seem'd a hallow'd ground ; 
 Swains ceas'd to laugh aloud, when near, 
 And school-boys never sported there. 
 
 In the same mild and temperate zone, 
 Twice twenty years, his course had run, 
 His locks of flowing silver spread, 
 A crown of glory o'er his head. 
 His face, the image of his mind, 
 With grave, and furrow'd wisdom shin'd ; 
 Not cold ; but glowing still, and bright; 
 Yet glowing with October light: 
 As evening blends, with beauteous ray, 
 Approaching night with shining day. 
 
 His Cure his thoughts engross'd alone ; 
 For them his painful course was run : 
 To bless, to save, his only care ; 
 To chill the guilty soul with fear; 
 To point the pathway to the skies, 
 And teach, and urge, and aid, to rise; 
 Where strait; and difficult to keep, 
 It climbs, and climbs, o'er Virtue's steep. 
 
 As now the evening of his day, 
 Retiring, smil'd it's warning ray; 
 He heard, in angel-whispers, come. 
 The welcome voice, that call'd him home. 
 The little flock he nurs'd so long, 
 And charm'd with mercy's sweetest song, 
 His heart with strong affections waim'd, 
 His love provok'd, his fears alarm'd — 
 Like him, who freed the chosen band, 
 Like him, who op'd the promis'd land, 
 His footsteps verging on the grave, 
 His blessing thus the Prophet gave. 
 
 " priz'd beyond expression here, 
 As sons belov'd, as daughters dear. 
 Your father's dying voice receive, 
 My counsels hear, obey, and live ! 
 
 " For you my ceaseless toils ye know, 
 My care, my faithfulness, and woe. 
 For you I breath'd unnumber'd prayers; 
 For you I shed unnumber'd tears ; 
 To living springs the thirsty led, 
 The hungry cheer'd with living bread, 
 Of grief allay'd the piercing smart, 
 And sooth'd with balm the doubting heart; 
 The wayward flock forbade to roam, 
 And brought the wandering lambkin home. 
 
 " And now, my toils, my duties done. 
 My crown of endless glory won, 
 Ev'n while invited to the skies, 
 My wing begins through heaven to rise, 
 One solemn labour still is due, 
 To close a life, cousum'd for you. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Then rise, and let salvation call 
 Your time, your thoughts, your talents all! 
 
 " For this, the sacred page explore, 
 Consult, and ponder, o'er and o'er ; 
 The words of endless life discern; 
 The way, the means, the motives learn ; 
 The hopes, the promises, enjoy, 
 That ne'er deceive, that cannot cloy; 
 Alarms to Guilt's obdurate mind ; 
 Perennial bliss to Faith assign'd; 
 The precepts, by Messiah given; 
 His life, the image bright of Heaven : 
 His death, self-ruin'd man to save ; 
 His rise, primitial, from the grave ; 
 Beyond all other love, his love ; 
 His name, all other names above. 
 All duties to be learu'd, or done, 
 All comforts to be gain'd, or known, 
 To do, to gain, unceasing strive. 
 The book of books explore, and live. 
 
 " When smiles the Sabbath's genial morn, 
 Instinctive to the Temple turn ; 
 Your households round you thither bring, 
 Sweet off ring to the Saviour King. 
 There, on the mercy-seat, he shines, 
 Receives our souls, forgets our sins, 
 And welcomes, with resistless charms, 
 Submitting rebels to his arms. 
 That chosen, bless'd, accepted day, 
 Oh never, never cast away !" 
 
 " Let order round your houses reign, 
 Religion rule, and peace sustain ; 
 Each morn, each eve, your prayers arise, 
 As incense fragrant, to the skies ; 
 In beauteous groupe, your children join, 
 And servants share the work divine : 
 The voice, as is the interest, one. 
 And one the blessing wrestled down. 
 
 " Each toil devote, each care, and pain, 
 Your children for the skies to train. 
 
TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 
 
 365 
 
 Allure, reprove, instruct; reclaim, 
 Alarm, and warn, commend, and blame ; 
 To virtue force with gentle away, 
 And guide, and lead, yourselves, the way. 
 Teach tliem, profaneness, falsehood, fraud. 
 Abuse to man, affronts to God, 
 All things impure, obscene, debas'd, 
 Tho' oft with high high examples grac'd, 
 To shun beyond the adder's breath, 
 When hissing instantaneous death ; 
 But justice, truth, and love, to prize, 
 Beyond the transports of the skies." 
 
 " Teach them, that, brighter than the sun, 
 Th' All-searching Eye looks flaming on, 
 Each thought, each word, each act, descries, 
 And sees the guilty motives rise ; 
 A Witness, and a Judge, that day, 
 Whose light shall every heart display. 
 Live what you teach — the heavenly Seer, 
 Who spake, as man ne'er spake, when here. 
 Taught all things just, and wise, and true 
 Shone a divine example too. 
 
 "To all, around, your blessings leml, 
 The sick relieve, the poor befriend, 
 The sad console, the weak sustain, 
 And soothe the wounded spirit's pain. 
 To you, think every blessing given, 
 To shed abroad the alms of Heaves, 
 To blunt the stings of human woe, 
 And build his kingdom, here below. 
 Let gentle Peace around you reign, 
 Her influence spread, her cause sustain: 
 To railing, answers mild return ; 
 Let love, oppos'd to anger, burn ; 
 Contention, ere begun, suppress, 
 And bid the voice of party cease. 
 The taleful tongue, the meddling mind. 
 The jealous eye, the heart unkind, 
 Far distant, far, from you remove; 
 But ope your doors to Truth and Love : 
 The meek esteem, the humble praise, 
 And Merit from her footstool raise. 
 
 " By every act of peace, and love, 
 Tims win your way to climes above. 
 In this great work, see all things strive 
 Nature toils that you may live : 
 
 " Lo, to aid you to the skies, 
 Seasons roll, and suns arise ; 
 Promis'd, see the seed-time come, 
 And the harvest shouted home 1 
 
 "All things, in their solemn round. 
 Morn, with peace and beauty crown'U, 
 Eve, with sweet, returning rest, 
 Toil, with health and plenty bless'd, 
 Help you on the ascending road, 
 Pointing, leading, still to God : 
 Joys to endless rapture charm; 
 Woes, of endless woe, alarm. 
 
 "All things toil, that you may live — 
 Rulers peace and freedom give: 
 Seers diviner peace proclaim. 
 Glorious to th' Unutter'd Name, 
 Good, to guilty mortals given, 
 Source of endless joy to heaven. 
 
 " See the Sabbath's peaceful morn, 
 (Sabbaths still for you return), 
 Opes the Temple to your feet, 
 Chaunting sounds of Seraphs sweet — 
 Heaven unfolds, and God is near, 
 Sinners haste, and enter here — 
 Grace and truth, from worlds above, 
 Fruits of suffering, dying love, 
 
 From the Sacred Spirit come, 
 Wilder'd flocks inviting home. 
 
 " Hark, what living music plays ! 
 Catch the themes of heavenly praiss ; 
 Themes, that tune seraphic strings, 
 Notes, the bless'd Redeemer sings. 
 
 " ' Rise, my sous, and hither haste I 
 Wintry time is overpass'd. 
 See afar the rains have flown ! 
 See immortal spring begun ! 
 Streams with life and rapture flow ; 
 Fruits with life and rapture glow ; 
 Love the door of life unbars ; 
 Triumphs crown your finish'd wars : 
 Fondly wait impatient skies, 
 O'er you to renew their joys. 
 
 " 'Are you naked? here behold 
 Robes of light, and crowns of gold I 
 Famish'd ? an eternal feast ' 
 Weary ? everliving rest ! 
 Friendless? an Almighty Friend! 
 Hopeless ? transports ne'er to end ! 
 
 " ' Children, penitents, arise ; 
 Hasten to your native skies : 
 Your arrival all things sing ; 
 Angels meet you on the wing; 
 Saints with fairer beauty shine ; 
 Brighter years in heaven begin ; 
 Round the Sun, that lights the skies, 
 More refulgent glories rise.' 
 
 " Thus, O my sons! Messiah's voice 
 Allures to never dying joys. 
 That voice of endless love receive ; 
 Those counsels hear, obey, and live. 
 
 " Thus, from the climes beyond the tomb 
 If God permit my soul to come, 
 Again my little flock to view, 
 To watch, and warn, and quicken you, 
 With transport shall my bosom glow, 
 To see each house an heaven below, 
 My sons ambitious of the skies, 
 And future saints, and angels rise. 
 And O, what brighter bliss shall bloom, 
 To hail you victors o'er the tomb ; 
 To guide you, all th' unmeasur'd waj', 
 And welcome to the gates of day; 
 To hear your blessed Euge sound, 
 And see th' immortals smile around ; 
 To stand, to shine, b}' you confess'd 
 Your friend, your earthly saviour bless'd ; 
 To mingle joys, all joys above, 
 And warm with ever-bright'ning love!" 
 
 He spoke. The filial tear around, 
 Responsive, trickled to the sound ; 
 He saw their hearts to wisdom won, 
 And felt his final duty done — 
 " Jesus ! my soul receive" — he cried, 
 And smil'd, and bow'd his head, and died. 
 
 ANN ELIZA BLEECKEE. 
 Ann Eliza, the youngest daughter of Mr. Brandt 
 Schuyler, was born in the city of New York in 
 October, 1752. "Though in her early years,"' 
 her admiring biographer remarks, " she never 
 displa3 r ed any partiality for school, yet she 
 was passionately fond of books, insomuch that 
 she read with propriety any book that came to 
 hand long before the time that children in com- 
 mon pass their spelling-books." 
 
 In the year 1769 she married Mr. John J. 
 Bleccker, of ISTew Rochelle, and removed with 
 him to Poughkeepsie where they resided a year 
 
366 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF. AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Ann Eliza Bleecker. 
 
 or two, and then settled at Tomhaniok, " a beau- 
 tiful solitary little Ullage eighteen miles above Al- 
 bany." Here they remained until the tidings of 
 the expedition of Burgoyne from Canada reached 
 them, when Mr. Bleecker repaired to Albany to 
 provide a more secure residence for his family than 
 their lonely rural retreat afforded. The morning 
 after his departure news reached his wife that the 
 enemy were within two miles of the village, "burn- 
 ing and murdering all before them." " Terrified 
 beyond description she rose from the breakfast 
 table, and taking her Arbella on her arm, and 
 her other daughter (about four years old) by the 
 hand, she set off on foot, with a young mulatto 
 girl, leaving the house and furniture to the mercy 
 of the approaching savages. The roads were 
 crowded with carriages loaded with women and 
 children, but none could afford her assistance — 
 distress was depicted on every countenance, and 
 tears of heartfelt anguish moistened every cheek. 
 They passed on — no one spoke to another — and 
 no sound but the dismal creaking of burdened 
 wheels and the trampling of horses interrupted 
 the mournful silence. After a tedious walk of four 
 or five miles, she obtained a seat for the children 
 upon one of the wagons, and she walked on to 
 Stony Arabia, where she expected to find many 
 friends ; but she was deceived — no door was open 
 to Tier, whose house by many of them had been 
 made use of as a home — she wandered from house 
 to house, and at length obtained a place in the 
 garret of a rich old acquaintance, where a couple 
 of blankets, stretched upon some boards, were 
 offered her as a bed; she, however, sat up all 
 night, and the next morning, Mr. Bleecker com- 
 ing from Albany, met with them and returned to 
 that city, from whence they set off with several 
 other families by water."* They descended the 
 river as far as Bed Hook, where they resided 
 until the surrender of Burgoyne, when they re- 
 turned to their rural home, the melancholy ex- 
 cursion having been further saddened by the 
 death of Mrs. Bleecker's eldest child, mother, and 
 only surviving sister. 
 
 In 1781, Mr. Bleecker, while occupied in his 
 fields, was captured and carried off with two of 
 bis laborers by a party from Canada. These 
 occurrences were so frequent that the family 
 were at no loss to account for his disappearance, 
 
 * Life by Mrs. Fangerus. 
 
 and Mrs. Bleecker again set off for Albany in 
 quest of aid, " but by a wonderful train of events 
 Mr. Bleecker was retaken by a party from Ben- 
 nington, after having passed the last habitation 
 on this side of the Green Mountains, and when 
 his conductors for the first time had considered 
 themselves as perfectly secure," and returned in 
 safety at the end of six days. 
 
 In the spring of 1783 she visited New York, 
 but time and the war had caused so many changes 
 among her old associates, that the visit was pro- 
 ductive of more pain than pleasure to her sensi- 
 tive mind. She returned to Tomhanick, where 
 she was soon after taken sick, and, her delicate 
 frame offering feeble obstacles to the progress of 
 disease, died on the twenty-third of November 
 of the same year. 
 
 Mrs. Bleecker's poems were written as the 
 occasion suggested them to her mind, without a 
 view to publication. She possessed a pleasant 
 vein of sportive fancy, and many of her composi- 
 tions of this class were much admired by the few 
 friends to whom she showed them ; but in the fre- 
 quent attacks of despondency to which her deli- 
 cate organization was subject, she destroyed " all 
 the pieces which were not melancholy as herself." 
 Her graver compositions are upon topics suggest- 
 ed by her family bereavements, and are tenderly 
 though somewhat formally expressed: Her light- 
 er pieces and her correspondence (in which she 
 evidently took great pleasure) are the most pleas- 
 ing and characteristic of her literary productions. 
 
 Several of her poems were printed in the ear- 
 lier numbers of the New York Magazine, and a 
 collection of her stories and "poetics" in a vo- 
 lume, with a few of her letters, published in 
 1793 under the supervision of her daughter, Mar- 
 garetta, who added a number of essays and verses 
 from her own pen. This lady was born in the 
 city of New York in 1771, and passed her early 
 years in Tomhanick. After her mother's death, 
 her father removed to New York, where, against 
 her parent's wish, she married in 1791 Peter 
 Faugeres, a physician of that city. He was a 
 worthless fellow, and in a few years dissipated 
 her large fortune. After the death of her father 
 in 1795, the pair were reduced to extreme desti- 
 tution. Faugeres died of the yellow fever in 
 1798, and the widow supported herself as a 
 teacher until her death, January 9, 1801. 
 
 In 1795, Mrs. Faugeres offered a tragedy enti- 
 tled Beluarius to the John Street Theatre. The 
 management declined its production. It was 
 afterwards published, and is of slight literary 
 merit. Among her verses are the Birth-day of 
 Columbia and an historical and patriotic descrip- 
 tion of the Hudson, in which New York is ad- 
 dressed, 
 
 Pride of Columbia I Eboracia fair I 
 
 to sin. L***. 
 Dear brother, to these happy shades repair, 
 And leave, Oh leave the city's noxious air : 
 I'll try description, friend — methinks I see 
 'Twill influence your curiosity. 
 
 Before our door a meadow flies the eye, 
 Circled by hills, whose summits crowd the sky; 
 The silver lily there exalts her head 1 , 
 And op'ning roses balmy odours spread, 
 While golden tulips flame beneath the shade. 
 
PHILLIS WHEATLEY. 
 
 367 
 
 In short, not hiu with her painted how. 
 
 Nor varied tints an evening sun can show, 
 
 Can the gay colours of the flow'rs exceed, 
 
 Whose glowing leaves diversify this mead: 
 
 And when the blooms of Flora disappear, 
 
 The weighty fruits adorn the satiate year: 
 
 Here vivid cherries bloom in scarlet pride, 
 
 And purple plums blush by the cherries' side; 
 
 The sable berries bend the pliant vines, 
 
 And smiling apples glow in crimson rinds ; 
 
 Ceres well pleas'd, beholds the furrowed plain, 
 
 And 8how'rs her blessings on th' industrious swain ; 
 
 Plenty sits laughing in each humble cot; 
 
 None wish for that which heaven gives them not. 
 
 But sweet Contentment still with sober charms, 
 
 Encircles us within her blissful arms ; 
 
 Birds unmolested chauut their early notes, 
 
 And on the dewy spray expand their throats; 
 
 Before the eastern skies are streak'd with light, 
 
 Or from the arch of Heaven retreats the night, 
 
 The musical inhabitants of air. 
 
 To praise their Maker, tuneful lays prepare. 
 
 Here by a spring, whose glassy surface moves 
 
 At ev'ry kiss from Zephyr of the groves, 
 
 While passing clouds look brighter in the stream, 
 
 Your poet sits and paints the rural scene. 
 
 TO MISS CATITARINE TEN EYOK. 
 
 Come and see our habitation, 
 
 Condescend to be our guest ; 
 Tho' the veins of warring nations 
 
 Bleed, yet here secure we rest. 
 
 By the light of Ci/nthia's crescent, 
 Playing thro' the waving trees; 
 
 When we walk, we wish you present 
 To participate our bliss. 
 
 Late indeed, the cruel savage 
 Here with looks ferocious stood ; 
 
 Here the rustic's cot did ravage, 
 
 Stain'd the grass with human blood. 
 
 Late their hands sent conflagration 
 Rolling thro' the blooming wild, 
 
 Seized with death, the brute creation 
 Mourn'd, while desolation smil'd. 
 
 Spiral flames from tallest cedar 
 Struck to heav'n a heat intense; 
 
 They canccll'd thus with impious labour, 
 Wonders of Omnipotence. 
 
 But when Conquest rear'd her standard, 
 
 And the Aborigines were fled, 
 Peace, who long an exile wandcr'd, 
 
 Now returned to bless the shade. 
 
 Now JEolus blows the ashes 
 
 From sad Terra's blackeu'd brow, 
 
 While the whistling swain with rusheJ 
 Eoofs his cot, late levcll'd low. 
 
 From the teeming womb of Nature 
 Bursting flow'rs exhale perfume ; 
 
 Shady oaks, of ample stature, 
 Cast again a cooling gloom. 
 
 Waves from each reflecting fountain, 
 
 Roll again unmixed with gore, 
 And verging from the lofty mountain, 
 
 Fall beneath with solemn roar. 
 
 Here, embosom'd in this Eden, 
 Cheerful all our hours are spent; 
 
 Here no pleasures are forbidden, 
 Sylvan joys are innocent. 
 
 PHILLIS WHEATLEY. 
 The poems of Phillis Wheatley were published in 
 London in 1773, in a thin duodecimo volume, with 
 a copper-plate portrait, from which our engrav- 
 ing is taken, and with the full title, Poems on 
 Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. By 
 Phillis Wlicaflcy, Negro Servant to Mr. John 
 Wheatley, of Boston, inNew England. The dedi- 
 cation to the Eight' Honorable the Countess of 
 Huntingdon hears date, Boston, June 12, 1773, 
 when she was about to visit London with a mem- 
 ber of her master's family, and points to the 
 influential Methodist connexion by which she was 
 lionized on her arrival in that city.* A Preface 
 puts forward the old plea, which, under the cir- 
 cumstances, looks like a jest, of the poems being 
 " written originally for the amusement of the 
 author, as they were the products of her leisure 
 moments. She had no intention ever to have 
 published them; nor would they now have made 
 their appearance, but at the importunity of many 
 of her best and most generous friends." A let- 
 ter, " sent by the author's master to the pub- 
 lisher," follows, in which John Wheatley, dating 
 Boston, November 14, 1772, states that " Phillis 
 was brought from Africa to America, in the year.' 
 17(51, between seven and eight years of age, with- 
 out any assistance from school education, and by 
 only what she was taught in the family, she, in 
 sixteen months' time from her arrival, attained 
 the English language, to which she was an utter 
 stranger before, to such a degree, as to read any, 
 the most difficult parts of the Sacred writings, to 
 
 ??/Cm //n^fJy 
 
 * Among tho attentions which Phillis "Wheatley received in 
 London was tho gift from the Lord Mayor Broofc Watson, of a 
 copy of FouHs's folio Glasgow edition <>f Paradise Lost, which 
 was sold after her death, in payment of her husband's debts. 
 It is now preserved in the library of Harvard College at Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
368 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the great astonishment of all who heard her. As 
 to her writing, her own curiosity led her to it ; 
 and this she learned in so short a time, that in 
 the year 1765 she wrote a letter to the Rev. Mr. 
 Occom, the Indian minister, while in England. 
 She has a great inclination to read the Latin 
 tongue, and has made some progress in it." To 
 certify still further the authority of the book, an 
 "attestation" is added, addressed "to the public," 
 from " the most respectable characters in Bos- 
 ton," at the head of whom is his Excellency Gov. 
 Thomas Hutchinson, with such fellow-witnesses 
 as John Hancock, the Rev. Mather Byles, and 
 the Rev. Mr. Samuel Mather, who testify their 
 full belief that the poems were written by Phillis, 
 : and state the additional fact that " she has been 
 examined by some of the best judges, and is 
 thought qualified to write them." 
 
 To these biographical facts, we may add, from 
 the Memoir prefixed to an edition of the Poems 
 published in Boston in 1834-, written by " a col- 
 lateral descendant of Mrs. Wheatley, who has 
 been familiar with the name and fame of Phillis 
 from her childhood," that the future' poetess was 
 bought in the slave-market of Boston, where she 
 was selected by Mrs. Wheatley for her delicate 
 appearance. She was taught to read and write 
 by one of this lady's daughters, in the family, and 
 grew up as a pet of the household — her accom- 
 plishments reflecting honor on the associations. 
 It does not appear that she was ever formally 
 manumitted. The only recollection which she 
 retained of her life in Africa was a poetical 
 reminiscence of her mother pouring out water 
 before the sun at his rising — a trait of natural 
 devotion in a heathen land. When she was six- 
 teen, in 1770, Phillis became a member of Dr. 
 Sewall's congregation in the Old South Meeting. 
 
 The poems themselves show as marked indica- 
 tions of the feeding-grounds of the readers and 
 imitators of verse in the eighteenth century, as do 
 those of Mistress Ann Bradstreet in the seven- 
 teenth. "What in the earlier day was quaint, 
 rude, and daring, in the latter is smooth, sound- 
 ing and fluent. The formal muse of Pope, and 
 the herd of victims whom he impaled in the 
 Dunciacl, had succeeded in the American colo- 
 nies to the, twisted efforts of Du Bartas. Phillis 
 Wheatley is a very respectable echo of the Papal 
 strains. In the first poem of the volume, ad- 
 dressed To Maecenas, she writes of Homer with an 
 eloquence evidently derived from the glowing 
 translation of the bright-eyed little man at Twick- 
 enham : — 
 
 While Homer paints, lo ! eircumfua'd in air. 
 Celestial Gods in mortal forms appear ; 
 Swift as they move hear each recess rebound, 
 Heav'n quakes, earth trembles, and the shores re- 
 sound. 
 Great Sire of verse, before my mortal eyes, 
 The lightnings blaze across the vaulted skies ; 
 And, as the thunder shakes the hcav'nly plains, 
 A deep-felt horror thrills thro' all my veins. 
 When gentler strains demand thy graceful song, 
 The length'ning line moves languishing along. 
 When groat Patroclus courts Achilles' aid, 
 The grateful tribute of my tears is paid ; 
 Prone on the shore he feels the pangs of love, 
 And stern Pelides tend'rest passions move. 
 
 One of the few allusions which we have found 
 
 in the poems to her birth and condition of slavery 
 is among these verses. She gracefully recalls the 
 African Terence : — 
 
 The happier Terence all the choir inspir'd, 
 His soul replenish'd, and his bosom fir'd ; 
 But say, ye Muses, why this partial grace, 
 To one alone of Afrit's sable race ; 
 From age to age, transmitting thus his name 
 With the first glory in the rolls of fame? 
 
 The longest piece of classicality in the volume 
 is a paraphrase of the story of Kiobe and her 
 Children, from Ovid, in which there is one line, 
 at least, which would do honor to any pen. 
 Apollo is preparing the slaughter of the sons in 
 the race-course, the moment before that arrowy 
 devastation : — 
 
 With clouds incompass'd glorious Phoebus stands; 
 Tlic feather d vengeance quivring in his hands. 
 
 This is not a translation of anything in Ovid, 
 for that writer has neglected so striking a posi- 
 tion for his Deity. Apollo, in the Metamorphoses, 
 goes to work at once in the most business-like 
 manner, and covers the field with the slain in the 
 shortest possible time. Another touch of the 
 poetic flight of the arrow is added to the original 
 text in the death of Sipylus : — 
 
 Then didst thou, Sipylus, the language hear 
 Of fate portentous whistling in the air. 
 
 Certainly, even with the assistance of a master, 
 it was a most generous acquisition for a female 
 African slave to appreciate that fine classic story 
 in this way. 
 
 The remaining poems are far from mediocrity. 
 A large number of them belong to the class of 
 occasional verses addressed to her friends on 
 various family afflictions ; so that she was for the 
 time a kind of poet-laureate in the first domestic 
 circles of Boston. Nor is the University of Cam- 
 bridge, in New England, forgotten. The earnest 
 religious feeling of the Methodists is everywhere 
 visible. The lines, To S. M., a Young African 
 Painter, on seeing his works, refer to Scipio 
 Moorhead, a servant of the Rev. John Moorhead, 
 of Boston, who exhibited some talent for draw- 
 ing. The initials of the lady to whom the Fare- 
 well to America is addressed, belong to Mrs. 
 Susanna Wright, a lady of some note for her skill 
 in waxwork. By the favor of Mr. S. F. Haven, 
 of Worcester, to whom we are indebted for the 
 last two items of information, we have before us 
 the original manuscript of two of the poems, To 
 ths University of Cambridge, and the lines On 
 the Death of the See. Dr. Sewall, written in the 
 author's remarkably round neat hand. The 
 earliest verses dated in the collection are those 
 addressed To the King's Most Excellent Majesty, 
 marked 1768. From this manuscript it appears 
 that the lines on Harvard were written in 1767. 
 
 On her return from England, after the publica- 
 tion, of the poems, the Wheatley family was 
 broken up by death, and Phillis married a colored 
 man, who seems, to have been a showy fellow, 
 passing, according to one account, as a lawyer, 
 another as a grocer, and a third a barber. He 
 fell into poverty during the Revolution, and his 
 wife suffered with him till she died in Boston, 
 Dec. 5, 1784. It was one tiling dreaming with 
 Ovid, and another living with " Doctor Peters." 
 
PHILLIS WHEATLEY. 
 
 369 
 
 The poems of Phillis Wheatley having been 
 published in a volume eleven years before her 
 death, and that edition of 1773 having been fol- 
 lowed in subsequent ones,* the occasional verses 
 which she published afterwards yet remain to be 
 collected. Of these we present several to our 
 readers. The most important of them are the 
 lines to General Washington, in 1775, which fol- 
 low with the letter that accompanied them.t 
 
 Sir: 
 
 Phillis Wheatley to Gen. Washington. 
 
 I have taken the freedom to address your 
 Excellency in the enclosed Poem, and entreat your 
 acceptance, though I am not insensible of its inaccu- 
 racies. Your being appointed by the Grand Conti- 
 nental Congress to be Generalissimo of the armies 
 of Nortli America, together with the fame of your 
 virtues, excite sensations not easy to suppress. Your 
 generosity, therefore, I presume, will pardon the 
 attempt. Wishing your Excellency all possible suc- 
 cess in the great cause you are so generously en- 
 gaged in, I am 
 
 Your Excellency's most obedient humble servant, 
 
 PHILLIS WHEATLEY. 
 
 Providence, Oct. 26, 1775. 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY GEN. WA8niNGT0N. 
 
 Celestial choir ! enthron'd in realms of light. 
 Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write. 
 While freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms, 
 She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms. 
 See mother earth her offspring's fate bemoan, 
 And nations gaze at scenes before unknown ! 
 See the bright beams of heaven's revolving light 
 Involved in sorrows and the veil of night! 
 
 The goddess comes, she moves divinely fair, 
 Olive and laurel binds her golden hair: 
 Wherever shines this native of the skies, 
 Unnumber'd charms and recent graces rise. 
 
 Muse ! bow propitious while my pen relates 
 How pour her armies through a thousand gates, 
 As when Eolus heaven's fair face deforms, 
 Enwrapp'd in tempest and a night of storms; 
 Astonish'd ocean feels the wild uproar, 
 The refluent surges beat the sounding shore; 
 Or thick as leaves in Autumn's golden reign, 
 Such, and so many, moves the warrior's train. 
 In bright array they seek the work of war, 
 Where high unfurl'd the ensign waves in air. 
 Shall I to Washington their praise recite? 
 Enough thou know'st them in the fields of fight. 
 Thee, first in place and honours, — we demand 
 The grace and glory of thy martial band. 
 F.im'd for thy valour, for thy virtues more, 
 Hear every tongue thy guardian aid implore! 
 
 One century scarce perform'd its destined round, 
 When Gallic powers Columbia's fury found ; 
 
 * Besides the Boston edition, published by G. W. Light, to 
 which we have alluded, we have before us one reprinted from 
 the London edition by Barber and Southwiek, for Thomas 
 Spencer, bookseller, Market street, Albany, in 1793. A separate 
 brief memoir, by B. B. Thatcher, was also issued at Boston, by 
 Light, in 1884. 
 
 + Washington mentions coming across Phillis Wlieatley's 
 poem and letter, " in searching over a parcel of papers," in a 
 letter to Joseph Read, Camb./Feb. 10, 1776. Mr. Sparks says 
 he lias not been able to find, the poem and letter among Wash- 
 ington's papers, and that " they have doubtless been lost. It 
 might be curious," he adds. u to see in what manner she 
 would eulogize liberty and the rights of man. while herself, 
 nominally at least, in bondage."— Washington's Writings, iii. 
 299. The poem and letter were probably given by Washing- 
 ton to the printer. 
 VOL. I. — 24 
 
 And so may you, whoever dares disgrace 
 The land of freedom's heaven-defended race! 
 Fix'd are the eyes of nations on the scales, 
 For in their hopes Columbia's arm prevails. 
 Anon Britannia droops the pensive head, 
 While round increase the rising hills of dead. 
 Ah! cruel blindness to Columbia's state! 
 Lament thy thirst of boundless power too late. 
 Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side, 
 Thy ev'ry action let the goddess guide. 
 A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine, 
 With gold unfading, Washington ! be thine. 
 
 This was Washington's reply : — 
 
 Cambridge, February 2d, 1776. 
 Miss Phillis: 
 
 Your favour of the 26th October did not reach 
 my hands till the middle of December. Time 
 enough, you will say, to have given an answer ere 
 this. Granted. But a variety of important occur- 
 rences continually interposing to distract the mind 
 and withdraw the attention, I hope will apologize 
 for the delay, aud plead my excuse for the seeming 
 but not real neglect. I thank you most sincerely for 
 your polite notice of me, iu the elegant lines you 
 enclosed ; and however undeserving I may be of 
 such encomium and panegyric, the style and manner 
 exhibit a striking proof of your poetical talents; iu 
 honour of which, and as a tribute justly due to you, 
 I would have published the poem, hail I not been 
 apprehensive that, while I only meant to give the 
 world this new instance of your genius, I might have 
 incurred the imputation of vanity. This, and no- 
 thing else, determined me not to give it place in the 
 public prints. If you should ever come to Cam- 
 bridge, or near head-quarters, I shall be happy to 
 see a person so favoured by the muses, and to whom 
 Nature has been so liberal and beneficent in her 
 dispensations. I am, with great respect, your obe- 
 dient humble servant, 
 
 George Washington: 
 
 The lines and letter of Phillis Wheatley were 
 published in the Pennsjlvania Magazine or Ame- 
 rican Monthly Museum for April, 1776. 
 
 In Jan., 1784, the year other death, she wrote 
 an Elegy of fifty-two lines, To the Memory of 
 that Greed Divine, the Reverend anil Learned Dr. 
 Samuel Cooper, a copy of which is preserved in 
 the Boston Athenseum. It is dedicated Totho 
 Church and Congregation assembling in Brattle 
 street, by their Obedient Humble Servant, Phillis 
 Peters. We have also met with the following of 
 the same year, in the American Antiquarian 
 Society, in four small quarto pages printed at 
 Boston by Warden and Russell : — 
 
 LIBEnTT AND PEACE. 
 
 Lo freedom eomes. Th' prescient muse foretold, 
 All eyes th' accomplish'd prophecy behold: 
 Her port describ'd, " She moves divinely fair, 
 Olive and laurel bind her golden hair." 
 She, the bright progeny of Heaven, descends, 
 And eveiw grace her sovereign step attends ; 
 For now kind Heaven, indulgent to our prayer, 
 In smiling peace resolves the din of war. 
 Fix'd in Columbia her illustrious line, 
 And bids in thee her future councils shine. 
 To every realm her portals open'd wide, 
 Receives from each the full commercial tide. 
 Each art and science now with rising charms, 
 Th' expanding heart with emulation warms. 
 
3 TO 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 E'en great Britannia sees with dread surprise, 
 And from the dazzling splendors turns her eyes. 
 Britain, whose navies swept th' Atlantic o'er, 
 And thunder sent to every distant shore; 
 E'en thou, in manners cruel as thou art, 
 The sword resign'd, resume the friendly part. 
 For Gallia's power espous'd Columbia's cause, 
 And new-born Rome shall give Britannia laws, 
 Nor unremember'd in the grateful strain, 
 Shall princely Louis' friendly deeds remain ; 
 The generous prince th' impending vengeance eyes, 
 Sees the tierce wrong and to the rescue flies. 
 ' Perish that thirst of boundless power, that drew 
 On Albion's head the curse to tyrants due. 
 But thou appeas'd submit to Heaven's decree, 
 That bids this realm of freedom rival thee. 
 Now sheathe the sword that bade the brave atone 
 With guiltless blood for madness not their own. 
 Sent from th' enjoyment of their native shore, 
 Ill-fated — never to behold her more. 
 From every kingdom on Europa's coast 
 Throng'd various troops, their glory, strength, and 
 
 boast. 
 With heart-felt pity fair Hibernia saw 
 Columbia menac'd by the Tyrant's law : 
 On hostile fields fraternal arms engage, . 
 And mutual deaths, all dealt with mutual rage : 
 The muse's ear hears mother earth deplore 
 Her ample surface smoke with kindred gore : 
 The hostile field destroys the social ties, 
 And everlasting slumber seals their ej'es. 
 Columbia mourns, the haughty foes deride, 
 Her treasures plunder'd and her towns destroy'd: 
 Witness how Charlestown's curling smokes arise, 
 In sable columns to the clouded skies. 
 The ample dome, high-wrought with curious toil, 
 In one sad hour the savage troops despoil. 
 Descending peace the power of war confounds; 
 From every tongue celestial peace resounds: 
 As from the east th' illustrious king of day, 
 With rising radiance drives the shades away, 
 So freedom comes array'd with charms divine, 
 And in her train commerce and plenty shine. 
 Britannia owns her independent reign, 
 Hibernia, Scotia and the realms of Spain; 
 And great Germania's ample coast admires 
 The generous spirit that Columbia fires. 
 Auspicious Heaven shall fill with fav'ring gales, 
 Where e'er Columbia spreads her swelling sails: 
 To every realm shall peace her charms display, 
 And heavenly freedom spread her golden ray. 
 
 The two following are printed from the author's 
 manuscript : — ■ 
 
 TO THE TTN-IVEKSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, "WROTE EN 17C7. 
 
 While an intrinsic ardor bids me write, 
 The muse doth promise to assist my pen. 
 Twas but ere now I left my native shore, 
 The sable land of error's darkest night ; 
 There, sacred Nine! no place for you was found: 
 Parent of mercy, 'twas thy powerful hand 
 Brought me in safety from the dark abode. 
 
 To you, bright youths, he points the heights of 
 
 heav'n, 
 To you the knowledge of the depths profound, 
 Above, 'contemplate the ethereal space, 
 And glorious systems of revolving worlds. 
 
 Still more, ye sons of science ! you've received 
 The pleasing sound by messengers from heav'n, 
 The Saviour's blood for your Redemption flows : 
 See him with hands stretched out upon the cross, 
 Divine compassion in his :bosom glows; 
 
 He hears ievilers with oblique regard — 
 What condescension in the Son of God? 
 
 When the whole human race by sin had fall'n : 
 He deigned to die, that they might rise again, 
 To live with him beyond the starry sky, 
 Life without death and glory without end. 
 
 Improve your privileges while they stay : 
 Caress, redeem each moment, which with haste 
 Bears on its rapid wing eternal bliss. 
 Let hateful vice, so baneful to the soul, 
 Be still avoided with becoming care; 
 Suppress the sable monster in its growth. 
 Ye blooming plants of human race divine 
 An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe, 
 It present sweetness turns to endless pain, 
 And brings eternal ruin on the sotd. 
 
 ON THE DEATn OF THE EEV. DR. SEWALL, 17G9. 
 
 Ere yet the morning heav'd its orient head, 
 Behold him praising with the happy dead. 
 Hail! happy saint, on the immortal shore, 
 We hear thy T warning and advice no more; 
 Then let each one behold with wishful eyes 
 The saint ascending to his native 6kies, 
 From hence the prophet wings his rapturous way 
 To mansions pure, to fair celestial day. 
 
 Then begging for the spirit of his God, 
 
 And panting eager for the bless'd abode, 
 
 Let ev'ry one with the same vigour soar 
 
 To bliss and happiness unseen before; 
 
 Then be Christ's image on our minds impress'd, 
 
 And plant a Saviour in each glowing breast, 
 
 Thrice happy thou, arrived at joy at last, 
 
 What compensation for the evil past ! 
 
 Thou Lord, incomprehensible, unknown 
 
 To sense, we bow at thy exalted throne 1 
 
 While thus we beg thy excellence to feel, 
 
 Thy sacred spirit in our hearts reveal, 
 
 And make each one of us that grace partake, 
 
 Which thus we ask for the Redeemer's sake. 
 
 " Sewall is dead," swift pinion'd fame thus cry'd. 
 
 Is Sewall dead? my trembling heart reply'd. 
 
 what a blessing in thy flight deny'd! 
 
 But when our Jesus had ascended high, 
 
 With captive bands he led captivity ; 
 
 And gifts received for such as knew not God, 
 
 Lord, send a pastor for thy churches' good. 
 
 ruined world ! bereft of thee, we cry'd 
 (The rocks, responsive to the voice, reply'd), 
 How oft for us this holy prophet pray'd ; 
 But ah ! behold him in his clay-cold bed, 
 By duty urged my weeping verse to close, 
 I'll on his Tomb an Epitaph compose. 
 
 Lo! here a man bought with Christ's precious blood, 
 Once a poor sinner, now a saint with God ; 
 Behold! ye rich and poor, and fools and wise, * 
 
 Nor let this monitor your hearts surprise! 
 I'll tell you all what this great saint has done, 
 Which makes him brighter than the glorious sun: 
 Listen, ye happy, from your seats above, 
 
 1 speak sincerely, and with truth and love; 
 He sought the paths of virtue and of truth ; 
 'Twas this which made him happy in his youth. 
 In blooming years he found that grace divine, 
 Which gives admittance to the sacred shrine. 
 Mourn him, ye irtdigent, whom he has fed; 
 Seek yet more earnest for the living Bread 
 
 E'en Christ, your Bread, what cometh from above 
 
 Implore his pity, and his grace and love. 
 Mourn him, ye youth, whom he hath often told 
 God's bounteous mercy from the times of old. 
 I, too, have cause this mighty loss to mourn, 
 For this my monitor will not return. 
 
BENJAMIN THOMPSON. 
 
 371 
 
 Now, this faint semblance of his life complete; 
 He is, through Jesus, made divinely great, 
 And left a glorious pattern to repeat. 
 But wheu shall we to this bless'd state arrive ? 
 When the same graces in our hearts do thrive. 
 
 The following arc from the volume collected 
 by the author : — 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE F.EV. MR. GEORGE WITITEFIELD, 1770. 
 
 Hail, happy saint, on thine immortal throne 
 Possest of glory, life, and bliss unknown. 
 We hear no more the music of thy tongue, 
 Thy wonted auditories cease to throng. 
 Thy sermons in unequall'd accents flow'd, 
 And ev'ry bosom with devotion glow'd : 
 Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin'd 
 Inflame the heart, and captivate the mind. 
 Unhappy, we the setting sun deplore, 
 So glorious once, but ah ! it shines no more. 
 
 Behold the prophet in his tow'ring flight I 
 He leaves the earth for heaven's unmeasur'd height, 
 And worlds unknown receive him from our sight. 
 There Whilefield wings with rapid course his way, 
 And sails to Zlon through vast seas of day. 
 Thy pray'rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries 
 Have pierc'd the bosom of thy native skies. 
 Thou, moon, hast seen, and all the stars of light, 
 How lie has wrestled with his God by night. 
 He pray'd that grace in ev'ry heart might dwell, 
 He long'd to see America excell ; 
 He charg'd its youth that ev'ry grace divine 
 Should witli full lustre in their conduct shine ; 
 That Saviour which his soul did first receive, 
 The greatest gift that e'en a God can give, 
 He freely offer'd to the num'rous throng, 
 That on his lips with list'ning pleasure hung. 
 
 "Take him, ye wretched, for your only good, 
 Take him, ye starving sinners, for your food; 
 Ye thirsty, come to tins life-giving stream, 
 Ye preachers, take him for your joy T ful theme; 
 Take him, my dear Americans, he said, 
 Be your complaints on his kind bosom laid: 
 Take him, ye Africans, he longs for you, 
 Impartial Saviour is his title due: 
 Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood, 
 You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God." 
 
 Great Countess* we Americans revere 
 Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere ; 
 New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn, 
 Their more than father will no more return. 
 
 But, tho' arrested by the hand of death, 
 Whitefield no more exerts his lab'ring breath ; 
 Yet let us view him in th' eternal skies, 
 Let ev'ry heart to this bright vision rise ; 
 While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust, 
 Till life divine re-animates his dust. 
 
 A FAREWELL TO AMERICA. 
 
 To Jfrs. SusannaWrigM, 
 
 I. • 
 
 Adieu, New England's smiling meads 
 
 Adieu, the flow'ry plain ; 
 I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring, 
 And tempt the roaring main. 
 
 n. 
 In vain for me the fiow'rets rise, 
 
 And boast their gaudy pride, 
 While here beneath the northern skies 
 
 I mourn for health deny'd. 
 
 * The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was 
 Chaplain. 
 
 Celestial maid of rosy hue, 
 
 let me feel thy reign! 
 I languish till thy face I view, 
 
 Thy vanish'd joys regain. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Susannah mourns, nor can I bear 
 
 To see the crystal show'r, 
 Or mark the tender falling tear 
 
 At sad departure's hour ; 
 v. 
 Nor unregarding can I see 
 
 Her soul with grief opprest : 
 But let no sighs, no groans for me, 
 
 Steal from her pensive breast. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In vain the feathered warblers sir.g, 
 In vain the garden blooms, 
 
 And on the bosom of the spring 
 Breathes out her sweet perfumes. 
 
 VII. 
 
 While for Britannia 's distant shore 
 We 6weep the liquid plain, 
 
 And witli astonish'd eyes explore 
 The wide extended main. 
 
 vm. 
 Lo, Health appears ! celestial dame ; 
 
 Complacent and serene, 
 With Hebe's mantle o'er her frame. 
 
 With soul-deliglitiiuj mien. 
 
 To mark the vale where London lies 
 With misty vapours crown'd, 
 
 Which cloud Auroras thousand dyes. 
 And veil her charms around. 
 
 Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow? 
 
 So slow thy rising ray i 
 Give us the famous town to view 
 
 Thou glorious king of day ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 For thee, Britannia, I resign, 
 
 New England's smiling fields; 
 To view again her charms divine, 
 
 What joy the prospect yields! 
 
 xn. 
 But thou, temptation, hence awav, 
 
 With all thy fatal train ; 
 Nor once seduce my soul awajr, 
 
 By thine enchanting strain. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield 
 
 Secures their souls from harms, 
 And fell Temptation on the held 
 
 Of all its pow'r disarms I 
 Boston, May, 7, 1775. 
 
 BENJAMIN THOMPSON, 
 
 Better known by his title of Count Eumford, 
 was a native of Wolmrn, Massachusetts. He was 
 born March 26, 1753. After receiving a common- 
 school education, he was placed with a physician, 
 Dr. Hay. He indicated an aptness for the 
 mechanic arts, amusing himself by making surgi- 
 cal instruments, and afterwards, when employed 
 as a clerk in a store, by manufacturing fireworks, 
 the latter experiment leading to an explosion by 
 
372 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 which he was severely burned, and for a time 
 deprived of sight. lie showed little taste for 
 business pursuits. He attended the course of phi- 
 losophical lectures established at Cambridge about 
 1769, as a charity scholar, walking nine miles and 
 back every day for the sake of the instruction 
 and pleasure they afforded him. 
 
 (/O (/yi-i is /lstyr>7 
 
 *u<rv\~ 
 
 In 1772 he engaged in school-keeping in Brad- 
 ford, Massachusetts, and soon after at Eumford, 
 now Concord, N. H., where he improved his cir- 
 cumstances by marrying a widow, Mrs. Rolfe. 
 
 He was with the American army at Lexington, 
 and at Cambridge on the arrival of Washington 
 as commander-in-chief, but afterwards became 
 identified with the royalist side. He sailed for 
 England in January, 1776. After a residence of 
 several years in that country, where he became 
 known as a scientific man, and held a post in the 
 office of the department of American affairs, he 
 was sent, near the close of the war, to New York, 
 where he raised a regiment of dragoons and 
 became a lieutenant-colonel. 
 
 In 1784 he returned to England, and was 
 knighted by George III. In consequence of Ids 
 scientific reputation, he received an invitation 
 from the Bavarian government to remove to that 
 country. He accepted the proposal, and resided 
 for some years in Munich, where he introduced 
 several reforms in the police service. One of his 
 most successful efforts was in the treatment of the 
 beggars, with whom the streets of Munich were 
 infested. On a given day, sallying out with a 
 proper military force, he swept these vagrants 
 from the streets, and by establishing houses of 
 industry, brought many of them to adopt thrifty 
 habits. He was made a Count by the Elector 
 Palatine, the title Romford being his own selec- 
 tion, in compliment to his former residence, and 
 received decorations from many of the courts of 
 Europe. Visiting England, he projected the 
 Royal Institution, and suggested Humphrey Davy, 
 then but twenty-two, as the head of its chemical 
 department. In 1802, he went to Paris, and 
 married a second wife,* the widow of Lavoisier, 
 from whom he was soon separated. In the enjoy- 
 ment of a pension from the King of Bavaria, he 
 resided at Auteuil, near Paris, till his death, 
 August 20, 1814. His funeral oration before the 
 Institute was delivered by Cuvier.t 
 
 * His first. " ■whom he appears to have deserted, died in New 
 Hampshire, in 1792." — Sabine's American Loyalists. 644. 
 
 t An elegant and expensive marble monument was erected in 
 
 the English garden at Munich, during Count Rurnford's absence 
 
 from Bavaria, bearing the following inscription in German : — 
 
 Stay, wanderer. 
 
 At the creative fiat of Charles Theodore 
 
 Rumford. the friend of mankind, 
 
 by genius, taste, and love inspired. 
 
 Changed this once desert place 
 
 into what thou now beholdest. 
 
 And on the opposite side : — 
 
 To him 
 
 who rooted out the greatest of public evi's, 
 
 idleness and mendicity; 
 
 Relieved and instructed the poor, 
 
 and founded many institutions 
 
 for the educating of our youth. 
 
 By his will he bequeathed one thousand dollars 
 annually, and the reversion of other sums, to the 
 " University of Cambridge, in the State of Massa- 
 chusetts, in North America, for the purpose of 
 founding, under the direction and management of 
 the Corporation, Overseers, and Government of 
 that University, a new Institution and Professor- 
 ship, in order to teach, by regular courses of aca- 
 demical and public lectures, accompanied with 
 proper experiments, the utility of the physical 
 and mathematical sciences, for the improvement 
 of the useful arts, and for the extension of the 
 industry, prosperity, happiness, and well-being 
 of society." In December, 1816, the Rumford 
 Professorship was established in Harvard Univer- 
 sity, and Dr. Jacob Bigelow appointed the first 
 professor. In his Inaugural, after reviewing the 
 progress of physical science, and the advantages 
 of New England culture, he pronounced a judi- 
 cious eulogy on the founder, with this general 
 summary of his various philosophical improve- 
 ments in private and political economy : — 
 
 " In the prosecution of them he was led to the 
 observation of many curious phenomena of light 
 and caloric, with which the world has been 
 made acquainted. The application of these to use, 
 and the various contrivances he originated, to 
 increase the convenience, economy, and comforts 
 of living, have given a character to his writings, 
 and are everywhere associated with his name. 
 His pursuits might even be embodied into a 
 science, for their object is everywhere known ; a 
 science conversant with a multiplicity of details, 
 but possessing unity of design ; a science humble 
 in the sphere of its operations, but noble in its 
 ultimate destiny ; a science which every man 
 must practise, but which philosophers and phi- 
 lanthropists must extend; one, which should it 
 ever demand a definition, would be found to be 
 the science — of clothing, of warming, and of 
 nourishing mankind." 
 
 His daughter, by permission of the King of 
 Bavaria, bore the title Countess of Rumford. She 
 came to America after her father's death, and 
 lived at Concord, where she died in 1852. Her 
 will secured the fine estate on which she resided 
 to the purposes of an asylum for indigent children. 
 His Essays, Political, Economical, and Philosophi- 
 cal* were published in London, and were re- 
 printed in Boston, in 1798. The several chapters, 
 which are somewhat curiously arranged, cover a 
 wide sphere of philanthropy. There are specula- 
 tions and calculations on the treatment of beg- 
 gars, in which he gives an account of his expe- 
 riences in Munich, of the foundation and regulation 
 of the Houses of Industry established under his 
 direction, the improvement wrought in morals 
 
 Go. wanderer, 
 
 and strive to equal him 
 
 . in genius and activity, 
 
 and us 
 
 in gratitude. 
 
 * Essays, Political, Economical, and Philosophical. By Ben- 
 jamin Count of Rumford, Knight of the Orders of the'White 
 
 ' Eagle, and St. Stanislaus ; Chamberlain. Privy Counsellor of 
 State, and Lieutenant-General in the Service of his Most Serene 
 Highness the Elector Palatine, Reigning Duke of Bavaria; 
 
 \ Colonel of his Regiment of Artillerv. and Commander in Chief 
 of the General Staff of his Army; F.R.S. Acad. P.. Iliber. 
 Berol. Elec. Boicce. Falat. et Amor. Soe. The first American, 
 from the Third London Edition Boston: Printed by Manning 
 & Loring, for David West, March, 1798. 
 
DAVID HUMPHREYS. 
 
 373 
 
 and manners of the paupers by the kind treat- 
 ment they received. A large space is devoted to 
 a discussion of cheap food, one of the chapters on 
 this subject being headed, " Of the Pleasure of 
 Eating, and of the means that may be employed 
 for increasing it." 
 
 Joel Barlow, in the Mountains of Savoy, when 
 he retired for a while from the luxuries of Paris, 
 wrote a poem for the consolation of his frugal 
 countrymen at home, on the joys and associations 
 of Hasty Pudding. As a pendant to that quaint 
 production, the reader may desire to possess him- 
 self of Count Rumlbrd's scientific handling of the 
 6ame article : — 
 
 In regard to the most advantageous method of 
 using Indian Corn as food, I would strongly recom- 
 mend, particularly when it is employed for feeding 
 the pour, a dish made of it that is in the highest 
 estimation throughout America, and which is really 
 very good, and very nourishing. This is called 
 hasty-pudding ; and it is made in the following man- 
 ner: A quantity of water, proportioned to the 
 quantity of hasty-pudding intended to be made, is 
 put. over the fire in an open iron pot, or kettle, and 
 a proper quantity of salt for seasoning the pudding 
 being previously dissolved in the water, Indian meal 
 is stirred into it, by little and little, with a wooden 
 spoon with a long han/lle, while the water goes on 
 to be heated and made to boil; great care being 
 taken to put in the meal by very small quantities, 
 and by sitting it slowly through the fingers of the 
 left hand, and stirring the water about very briskly 
 at the same time with the wooden spoon, with the 
 right hand, to mix the meal with the water in such 
 a manner as to prevent lumps being formed. The 
 meal should be added so slowly, that, when the 
 water is brought to boil, the mass should not be 
 thicker than water-gruel, and half an hour more, .at 
 least, should be employed to add the additional 
 quantity of meal necessary for bringing the pudding 
 to be of the proper consistency ; during which time 
 it should be stirred about continually, and kept con- 
 stantly boiling. The method of determining when 
 the pudding has acquired the proper consistency is 
 this ; the wooden spoon used for stirring it being 
 placed upright in the middle of the kettle, if it falls 
 down, more meal must, be added ; but if the pudding 
 is sufficiently thick and adhesive to support it in a 
 vertical position, it is declared to be proof; and no 
 more meal is added. If the boiling, instead of being 
 continued only half an hour, be prolonged to three 
 quarters of an hour, or an hour, the pudding will be 
 considerably improved by this prolongation. 
 
 This hasty-pudding, when done, may be eaten in 
 various ways. It may be put, "while hot, by spoon- 
 fuls into a bowl of milk, and eaten with the milk 
 with a spoon, in lieu of bread ; and used in this way 
 it is remarkably palatable. It may likewise be eaten, 
 while hot, with a sauce composed of butter and 
 brown sugar, or butter and molasses, with or with- 
 out a few drops of vinegar; and however people 
 who have not been accustomed to this American 
 cookery may be prejudiced against it, they will find 
 upon trial that it makes a most excellent dish, and 
 one which never fails to be much liked by those who 
 are accustomed to it. The universal fondness of 
 Americans for it proves that it must have some 
 merit ; for in a country which produces all the deli- 
 cacies of the table in the greatest abundance, it is 
 not to be supposed that a whole nation should have 
 a taste so depraved as to give a decided preference 
 to any particular species of food which has not 
 something to recommend it. 
 
 The manner in which hasty-pudding is eaten with 
 butter and sugar, or butler and molasses, in America, 
 is as follows : The hasty-pudding being spread out 
 equally upon a plate, while hot, an excavation is 
 made in the middle of it, with a spoon, into which 
 excavation a piece of butter, as large as a nutmeg, is 
 put; and upon it, a spoonful of brown sugar, or 
 more commonly of molasses. The butter being soon 
 melted by the heat of the pudding, mixes with the 
 sugar, or molasses, and forms a sauce, which, being 
 confined in the excavation made for it, occupies the 
 middle of the plate. The pudding is then eateu 
 with a spoon, each spoonful of it being dipt into the 
 sauce before it is carried to the mouth ; care being 
 had in taking it up, to begin on the outside, or near 
 the brim of the plate, and to approach the centre by 
 regular advances, in order not to demolish too soon 
 the excavation which forms the reservoir for the 
 sauce. 
 
 Fireplaces and chimneys are one of his impor- 
 tant topics, and a volume is in great part devoted 
 to the construction of cooking apparatus, illus- 
 trated with diagrams and engravings. 
 
 The style of these essays is plain but clear. His 
 suggestions are extremely valuable, and anticipate 
 many of the ideas of Soyer and other authors on 
 dietetics of the present day. 
 
 DAVID HUMPHEEYS. 
 
 David Humphreys, a soldier of the Revolution, 
 who wrote patriotic and martial poetry in the 
 camp, the friend and household companion of 
 Washington, was born, the son of a Congrega- 
 tional clergyman, the Rev. Daniel Humphreys, in 
 Derby, Connecticut, in 1753. He was educated 
 at Yale College, where he fell in with Dwight 
 and Trumbull, with whom he formed a personal 
 and literary friendship, which was not neglected 
 in after life. At the beginning of the war he 
 entered the army, becoming attached to Putnam's 
 stalf as major, and in 1780 became aide, with the 
 rank of colonel, in Washington's start'; or as he 
 himself recites these military incidents of his 
 career in verse : — 
 
 With what high chiefs I play'd my early part, 
 With Parsons first, whose eye, with piercing ken, 
 Heads through the hearts the characters of men ; 
 Then how I aided, in the foll'wing scene, 
 Death-daring Putnam — -then immortal Greene — 
 Then how great Washington my youth approv'd, 
 In rank preferred, and as a parent lov'd. 
 
 To Putnam, Humphreys showed his gratitude by 
 writing his life — a smooth and complimentary 
 piece of biography, which certainly anticipates 
 no modern doubts of the bravery of " Old Put."* 
 His intercourse with Washington did not end 
 with the war. He accompanied him on his re- 
 tirement to Virginia, residing with him more 
 than a year, and again returning after his visit to 
 Europe, to live in this privileged house in 1788, 
 until Washington became President, when Hum- 
 phreys travelled with him to New York. Of his 
 
 * An Essay on the Life of the Honorable Major-General 
 Israel Putnam : addressed to the State. Society of the Cincin- 
 nati in Connecticut In the dedication to Colonel Wadsworth, 
 Which is dated Mount Vernon, in Virginia, Juno 4, 17SS, the 
 author says, "the inclosed manuscript justly claims indulgence 
 for its venial errors, as it is tiie first effort in biography that 
 has been made on this continent." Colonel Humphreys tor- 
 gets the labors of the Mathers in this line. 
 
374 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 domestic intimacy with Washington, Humphreys, 
 in his Mount Vernon, an Ode, has left a grateful 
 reminiscence. Indeed, in his verses the reader is 
 never long out of sight of Washington. His gra- 
 titude never tires of expressing itself, and this is 
 a most amiable feature of his character. The man 
 was formed for friendship. His countenance is 
 full of benevolence, which in his long bachelor 
 days — before he married Miss Bulkier, an Eng- 
 lish lady of wealth at Lisbon, when he was 
 about forty-five — overflowed in kind remembran- 
 ces of his associates. In a pleasant poetical 
 epistle written to a young lady in Boston, and 
 dated at New Haven in 1780, he celebrates a 
 sleigh-ride journey which brought him among his 
 friends in Connecticut. 
 
 Some days elaps'd, I jogg'd quite brave on 
 
 And found my Trumbull at New Haven ; 
 
 Than whom, more humour never man did 
 
 Possess — nor lives a soul more candid — 
 
 But who, unsung, would know hereafter, 
 
 The repartees, and peals of laughter, 
 
 Or how much glee those laughters yield one, 
 
 Maugre the system Chesterfieldian ! 
 
 Barlow I saw, and here began 
 
 My friendship for that spotless man ; 
 
 Whom, though the world does not yet know it, 
 
 Great nature form'd her loftiest poet. 
 
 But Dwight was absent at North-Hampton, 
 
 That bard sublime, and virtue's champion. 
 
 To whom the charms of verse belong, 
 
 The father, of our epic song. 
 
 During his war scenes he had written his Ad- 
 dress to the Armies of the Un ited States of America 
 in 1782, when he was encamped at Peekskill, and 
 the foe was in possession of New York and 
 Charleston. In this address he refers to President 
 Davies's celebrated early prophecy of the great- 
 ness of Washington in Virginia, in the old French 
 war. 
 
 Oh ! raised by heaven to save th' invaded state, 
 So spake the sage long since thy future fate.* 
 
 His battle-pieces are in an animated style, and 
 that he could fight as well as write, is witne>sed 
 by the sword which Congress voted him for his 
 bravery at the siege of Yorktown, of the stan- 
 dards taken at which place he was the honored 
 bearer to the government.! His poem, the Ad- 
 dress, was translated into French by the accom- 
 plished courtier and soldier of the early period 
 of the war, the Marquis de Chastellux. J From 
 the pictures of war in this production, the death- 
 
 * Ante, -p. 271. 
 
 t "This memorable event, his presenting the standards, was 
 painted by a Danish artist, when the poet and soldier was in 
 Europe, between 17S4 and 17SI1, as Secretory of Legation to 
 Mr. Jefferson." — Durdap's Am. Theatre, p. 89. 
 
 % Marquis de Chastellux to Franklin, Paris, June 21. 17SG. — 
 "When you were in France, there was no need praising the 
 Americans. We had only to say, look, here is their represent- 
 tedive. But however worthily your place may have since 
 been filled, it is not unreasonable to arouse anew the interest 
 of a kind-hearted but thoughtless nation, and to fix. from time 
 to time, its attention upon the great event to which it has had 
 the happiness of contributing. Such lias been my motive in 
 translating Colonel Humphreys's poem. My success has fully 
 equalled, and even surpassed, my expectation. Not only has 
 the public received the work with favor, but it has succeeded 
 perfectly at court, especially with the king and queen, who 
 have praised it highly. 
 
 "I have taken more pains to render my work an agreeable 
 one to read, than to make it an exact and faithful translation." 
 — Sparks's Works of Franklin, x. 2G3. 
 
 scenes of Scammel and Laurens, the author ani- 
 mates the soldiery by a view of the future bounty 
 lands of the West, in a description, the tranquil 
 contrast of which to the opening passages was 
 much admired by a French critic. The poem was 
 noticed in England, Chastellux speaking of its 
 having been read there in clubs, to which the 
 public was admitted. 
 
 In 1784, Humphreys, in the capacity of Secrc- 
 
 ^y^^J^e^/^ 
 
 tary of Legation, sailed for Europe with Jeffer- 
 son then proceeding to join his fellow commis- 
 sioners, Franklin and Adams, in Paris. The 
 vessel, the Coarrier de V Europe, left Boston in 
 July, and Kosciusko was one of the passengers. 
 Humphreys, always ready with his verses for the 
 occasion, wrote on board ship a poetical epistle 
 of the voyage to his friend Dr. Dwight, in which 
 he celebrates 
 
 Our Polish friend, whose name still sounds so hard. 
 To make it rhyme would puzzle any bard ; 
 That youth, whom bays and laurels early erown'd, 
 For virtue, science, aits, and arms renown'd. 
 
 The description of the cabin scenery would ap- 
 pear to have anticipated the glories of a Collins 
 steamer. 
 
 See the great cabin nigh, its doors unfold. 
 Show fleeting forms from mirrors fix'd in gold I 
 O'er painted ceilings brighter prospects rise, 
 And rural scenes again delight our eyes. 
 
 Showing how a little elegance may be more profit- 
 able to a man with a faculty of being pleased, 
 than a great display to a dull observer. Facts are 
 so sumptuous now, on a voyage to Liverpool, that 
 there is no room left for the imagination, and the 
 man who should write verses about plush or 
 gilded carving would be justly accounted a snob. 
 Dwight met this epistle by another dated 
 Greenfield, the next year, in whioh ho takes a 
 
DAVID HUMPHREYS. 
 
 375 
 
 higher strain of eloquence, and cautions his 
 friend against the seductions of Europe. His 
 picture of the Travelled Ape in this production, is 
 one of the most vigorous passages of American 
 satire. A Poem on the Happiness of America, 
 addressed to the Citizens of the United States, 
 was written hy Humphreys during his residence 
 abroad, and is the longest of his productions, 
 extending to mo -e than a thousand lines. It puts 
 Washington's Farewell to the Army in verse, 
 celebrates the purity and simplicity of American 
 life, glances at the men of the old Continental 
 Congress. 
 
 His list'ning sons the sire shall oft remind, 
 "What parent sages first in Congress join'd; 
 The faithful Hancock grac'd that early scene, 
 Great Washington appear'd in godlike mien, 
 Jay, Laurens, Clinton, skill'd in ruling men, 
 And he, who earlier, held the farmer's pen. 
 'Twas Lee, illustrious at the father's head, 
 The daring way to independence led. 
 The self-taught Sherman urg'd Ids reasons clear, 
 And. all the Livingstons to freedom dear; 
 What countless names in fair procession throng, 
 With Rtttledge, Johnson, Nash demand the song! 
 
 And urges a naval crusade against the Algerines, 
 in those days the tyrants of the sea, and conclud- 
 ing poetically, and prophetically as it turned out 
 when Decatur took hold of them, with a brilliant 
 triumph over those marauders. In Humphreys's 
 volume of 1804, the copy of this poem is set 
 down as the tenth edition. Several of its topics 
 are again handled in the author's Poem on the 
 Future Glory of the. United States of America ; 
 indeed a certain monotony of subjects and treat- 
 ment runs through all his verses. He had little 
 variety in thought or execution. 
 
 Humphreys returned in 1780 to Connecticut, 
 where he was elected to the State Legislature, 
 appointed to the command of a regiment for the 
 western service, and where he joined his poetical 
 friends in the composition of the Anarchiad.* 
 Wc next find him on his second residence at 
 Mount Vernon, about this time employing his 
 leisure in translating, or, as his title-page calls it, 
 "imitating" from the French of M. de Mierre, a 
 tragedy (with a very happy ending) entitled, The 
 Widow of Malabar, which was acted hy Hallam's 
 old American Company at Philadelphia, in 1790. 
 It is a showy sketch of a play for stage purposes, 
 full of intensity in italics, and shrieks ascending 
 to small pica capitals. The ladj-, having just buried 
 a husband whom she never loved, is about to be 
 sacrificed, according to the custom of the country, 
 on the funeral pile. The young Brahmin whom 
 the high priest, in a brief summary stage style, 
 orders to look to the performance of the cere- 
 mony, turns out her brother, which is crisis 
 number one: then there is opportunely an in- 
 vading.army on hand, with one of whose officers 
 the lady had once been in love when travelling 
 from the Ganges. The preparation goes on with 
 passionate arguments and expostulations touching 
 the rite pro and con. The widow is at the pile, 
 which she has ascended, when at the last moment 
 for interruption the French general steps into the 
 rescue, and the curtain falls, but not until a very 
 
 * As the chief hand in this production was borne by Hop- 
 kins, we have placed our account of it in our notice of hiin. 
 
 clever epilogue written by the author of M'Fingal 
 is recited, which laughs at the agreeable termina- 
 tion of the painful affair, and pleasantly tells the 
 audience, with a travesty of Pope's verses, how 
 much better off Columbia's daughters are than 
 ladies subjected to such heathen dispensations. 
 
 For here, ye fair, no servile rites bear sway, 
 Nor force ye — (though ye promise) — to obey : 
 Blest in the mildness of tins temp'rate zone, 
 Slaves to no whims, or follies — but your own. — 
 Here custom, cheek'd in ev'ry rude excess, 
 Confines its influence to the arts of dress, 
 O'er charms eclips'd the side-long hat displays, 
 Extends the hoop, or pares away the stays, 
 Bedecks the fair witli artificial gear, • 
 Breast-works in front, and bishops in the rear : — 
 The idol rears, on beauty's dazzling throne, 
 Mankind her slaves, and all the world her own; 
 Bound by no laws a husband's whims to fear, 
 Obe} r in life, or burn tipon his bier ; 
 She views with equal eye, sublime o'er all, 
 A lover perish — or a lap-dog fall — 
 Coxcombs or monkeys from their chains broke 
 
 loose — 
 And now a husband dead — and now a goose. 
 
 Mrs. Henry, who recited the prologue, had a 
 word to the men, winch marks the time. 
 
 Your vict'ries won — your revolution ended — 
 Your constitution newly made — and mended — 
 Your fund of wit — your intellectual riches — 
 Plans in the closet — in the senate speeches — 
 Will mark this age of heroes, wits, and sages, 
 The first in story to the latest ages ! — 
 Go on — and prosper with your projects blest, 
 Till your millennium rises in the west: — 
 We wish success to your politic scheming, 
 Bule ye the world! — and then— be rul'd by 
 women ! — 
 
 Humphreys also wrote a comedy, which he 
 failed in hi9 attempts to get upon the stage. 
 Dunlap, who saw the author and the play in 
 Boston in 1805, relates how Humphreys en- 
 deavored to persuade the manager, Bernard, to 
 bring it out, how "it was extremely unlike those 
 comedies Bernard owed his fame to, and repaid 
 by imparting the vivifying influence of his art," 
 and how " the wary comedian heard the poet 
 read, drank his Madeira, said ' very well ' now 
 and then — but never brought out the play." 
 
 In 1794 Humphreys was appointed the first 
 American ambassador to Lisbon,* wdiere he re- 
 sided for six years till 1797, when he became 
 
 * Of Humphreys's diplomatic business the author of M'Fingal 
 has some pleasant raillery in a letter to Oliver Wolcott, dated 
 Hartford, December 9, 17S9: — "Pray, congratulate Colonel 
 Humphreys, in my name, ou his late promotion in tlfe diplo- 
 matic line. If I understand the matter rightly, he holds the 
 same post which Cl'ispe promised George in the Vicar of Wake- 
 field. You remember Crispe told him there was an embassy 
 talked of from the Synod of'Petinsylvania to the Chickasaw 
 Indians, and he would use his interest to fret, him appointed 
 secretary. Tell him not to be discouraged too much at his 
 want of success. The President has tried him on M'G-illivray 
 first, and he did not suit the skull of the savage, bul^we cannot 
 argue from that circumstance that he could not fit as easy as a 
 full-bottomed wig upon the fat-headed, sot-headed, and crazy- 
 headed sovereigns of Europe. Tell hint this story also for his 
 comfort, and to encourage his hopes of speedy employment: A 
 king being angry with an ambassador, asked hit t whether his 
 master had no wise men at court, and was therefore obliged to 
 send him a fool ? ' Sire,' said the other. ' my master litis many 
 wise men about his court, bat he conceived me the most pro- 
 per ambassador to your Majesty.' Upon this principle I am 
 in daily expectation of hearing that lie is appointed minister 
 plenipo. to George, Louis, or the stadtholder." — Gibbss Me- 
 moirs of the Administrations of Washington aud John Adams. 
 
376 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 minister to Spain, a post which he held till he 
 was succeeded by Pinckney in 1802. He then 
 returned to America, and engaged in the impor- 
 tation of merino sheep from Spain. He wrote a 
 dissertation on the subject in prose, ami employed 
 its capabilities in verse, in his poem On, the In- 
 dustry of the United States of America, which 
 was composed, he tells us, " on the delightful 
 banks of the Tagus, where his days were plea- 
 santly passed in the enjoyment of health, happi- 
 ness, and content." 
 
 Oh, might my guidance from the downs of Spain, 
 
 Lead a white flock across the western main ; 
 
 Fam'd like the bark that bore the Argonaut, 
 
 Should be the vessel with the burden fraught ! 
 
 Clad in the raiment my Merinos yield, 
 
 Like Cineinnatus fed from my own field ; 
 
 Far from ambition, grandeur, care and strife, 
 
 In sweet fruition of domestic life ; 
 
 There would I pass with friends, beneath my trees, 
 
 What rests from public life, in letter'd ease. 
 
 His wish was gratified. He imported a hun- 
 dred of the " white flock," a fact which the Mas- 
 sachusetts Agricultural Society records on a me- 
 dal. When Madison, in 1809, took his oath of 
 office as president, he was -dressed in a full suit 
 of American woollens, of which Colonel Hum- 
 phreys's manufactory furnished the coat, and 
 Chancellor Livingston's the waistcoat and small- 
 clothes.* He was also employed in agricultural 
 improvements. The village of Humphreysville, 
 situated on Naugatuc river, in Connecticut, the 
 seat of a considerable manufacturing interest, was 
 named after him. He was a native of the town- 
 ship. 
 
 Ilurnpbreysville. 
 
 Humphreys appears to have been something 
 of a courtier at this time, keeping up an ac- 
 quaintance with foreign princes by his dedica- 
 tions. His Lore of Country, in celebration of 
 the twenty-third anniversary of Independence, 
 which he wrote in Spain, and published on his 
 return, is an admirable Fourth of July oration in 
 verse, full of revolutionary story and patriotism. 
 His last poetic tribute to his friend, and chief in- 
 spirer of his song, was rendered in a Poem on the 
 
 * National Intelligencer, quoted by Hildretb, Second Series, 
 iii. 149. 
 
 Death, of General Washington, pronounced at the 
 house of the American legation at Madrid, on the 
 4th July, 1800. He had already written a letter 
 to Mrs. Washington, dated on the 22d February 
 — the day, says he, " signalized by his birth, and 
 which was accustomed to be celebrated with 
 heartfelt festivity throughout the United States ;" 
 — and so may it ever be ! 
 
 In 1812 he was appointed to the command of 
 two regiments of Connecticut soldiery, the " Ve- 
 teran Volunteers." The rest of his life was 
 passed in retirement. He died at New Haven, 
 February 21, 1818. 
 
 PTTT>-ASI"S ADVEXTCEE Wim TITE WOLF. — FEOM THE LIFE OP 
 GENEEAL PCT>~A.\L 
 
 In the year 1139, he removed from Salem to Pom- 
 fret, an inland fertile town in Connecticut, forty 
 miles east of Hartford. Having here purchased a 
 considerable tract of land, he applied himself suc- 
 cessfully to agriculture. 
 
 The first years on a new farm are not, however, 
 exempt from disasters and disappointments, which 
 can only be remedied by stubborn and patient in- 
 dustry. Our farmer, sufficiently occupied in build- 
 ing an house and barn, felling woods, making fences, 
 Bowing grain, planting orchards, and taking care of 
 his stock, had to encounter, in turn, the calamities 
 occasioned by drought in summer, blast in harvest, 
 loss of cattle in winter, and the desolation of his 
 sheep-fold by wolves. In one night he had seventy 
 fine sheep and goats killed, besides many lambs and 
 kids wounded. This havock was committed by a 
 she-wolf, which, with her annual wheljis, had for 
 several years infested the vicinity. The young were 
 commonly destroyed by the vigilance of the hunt- 
 ers, but the old one was too sagacious to lonie within 
 reach of gun-shot : upon being closely pursued, she 
 would generally fly to the western woods, and re- 
 turn the next winter with another litter of whelps. 
 
 This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable 
 nuisance that Mr. Putnam entered into a combina- 
 tion with five of his neighbours to hunt alternately 
 until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, 
 were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, 
 that, having lost the toes from one foot by a steel- 
 trap, she made one track shorter than the other. 
 By this vestige the pursuers recognised, in a light 
 snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having 
 followed her to Connecticut river, and found she 
 had turned back in a direct course towards Pomfret, 
 they immediately returned, and by ten o'clock the 
 next morning the blood-hounds had driven her into 
 a den, about three miles distant from the house of 
 Mr. Putnam. The people soon collected with dogs, 
 guns, straw, fire, and sulphur, to attack the com- 
 mon enemy. With this apparatus, several unsuc- 
 cessful efforts were made to force her from the den. 
 The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused 
 to return. The smoke of blazing straw had no 
 effect. Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with 
 which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the 
 retirement. Wearied with such fruitless attempts, 
 (which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night,) 
 Mr. Putnam tried once more to make his deg enter, 
 but in vain. He proposed to his negro man to go 
 down into the cavern and shoot the wolf: the negro 
 declined the hazardous service. Then it was that 
 the master, angry at the disappointment, and de- 
 claring that he was ashamed to have a coward in 
 his family, resolved himself to destroy the ferocious 
 beast, lest she should escape through some unknown 
 fissure of the rock. His neighbours strongly remon- 
 strated against the perileus enterprise: but he. 
 
DAVID HUMPHREYS. 
 
 377 
 
 knowing that wild animals were intimidated by fire, 
 and having provided several strips of birch-hark, 
 the only combustible material which he could ob- 
 tain that would afford light in this deep and dark- 
 some cave, prepared for his descent. Having, ac- 
 cordingly, divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, 
 and having a long rope fastened round his legs, by 
 which he might be pulled back, nt a concerted sig- 
 nal, he entered head-foremost, with the blazing torch 
 in his hand. 
 
 The aperture of the den, on the east side of a very 
 high ledge of rocks, is about two feet square ; from 
 thence it descends obliquely fifteen feet, then run- 
 ning horizontally about ten more, it ascends gradu- 
 ally sixteen feet towards its termination. The sides 
 of this subterraneous cavity are composed of smooth 
 and solid rocks, which seem to have been divided 
 from each other by some former earthquake. The 
 top and bottom are also of stone, and the entrance, 
 in winter, being covered with ice, is exceedingly 
 slippery. It is in no place high enough for a man 
 to raise himself upright, nor in any part more than 
 three feet in width. 
 
 Having groped his passage to the horizontal part 
 of the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in 
 front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch. 
 It was silent as the house of death. None but mon- 
 sters of the desert had ever before explored this so- 
 litary mansion of horror. He, cautiously proceed- 
 ing onward, came to the ascent, which he slowly 
 mounted on his hands and knees, until he discovered 
 the glaring eye-balls of the wolf, who was sitting at 
 the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of 
 fire, she gnashed her teeth, and gave a sullen growl. 
 As soon as he hiid made the necessary discovery, he 
 kicked the rope as a signal for pulling him out. The 
 people at the mouth of the den, who had listened 
 with painful anxiety, hearing the growling of the 
 wolf, and supposing their friend to be in the most 
 imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity 
 that his shirt was stripped over his head, and his 
 skin severely lacerate! After he had adjusted his 
 clothes, and loalel his gun with nine buck-shot, 
 holding a torch in one hand, and the musket in 
 the other, he descended the second time. When he 
 drew nearer than before, the wolf, assuming a still 
 more fierce and terrible appearance, howling, roll- 
 ing her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her 
 head between her legs, was evidently in the atti- 
 tude, and on the point of springing at him. At the 
 critical instant he levelled and fired at her head. 
 Stuunel with the shock, and suffocated with the 
 smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of 
 the cave. But having refreshed himself, and per- 
 mitted the smoke to dissipate, he went down the 
 third time. Once more he came within sight of the 
 wolf, who appearing very passive, he applied the 
 torch to her nose, and perceiving her dead, he took 
 hold of her ears, and then kicking the rope (still tied 
 round his legs) the people above, with no small ex- 
 ultation, dragged them both out together. 
 
 I have offered these facts in greater detail, be- 
 cause they contain a display of character ; and be- 
 cause they hnve been erroneously related in several 
 European publications, and very much mutilated in 
 the history of Connecticut, a work as replete with 
 falsehood as destitute of genius, lately printed in 
 Loudon. 
 
 MOtTNT VEItNON : AN ODE.* 
 
 By broad Potowmaek's azure tide, 
 Where Vernon's mount, in sylvan pride, 
 Displays its beauties far, 
 
 * "Written at Mount Vornou, August, 1786. 
 
 Great Washington, to peaceful shades, 
 Where no unhallow'd wish invades, 
 Retir'd from fields of war. 
 
 Angels might see, with joy, the sage, 
 Who taught the battle where to rage, 
 
 Or quench'd its spreading flame, 
 On works of peace employ that hand, 
 Which wav\l the blade of high command, 
 
 And hew'd the path to fame. 
 
 Let others sing his deeds in arms, 
 
 A nation sav'd, and conquest's charms : 
 
 Posterity shall hear, 
 'Twas nunc, return'd from Europe's eou; ts, 
 To share his thoughts, partake his sports, 
 
 And sooth his partial ear. 
 
 To thee, my friend, these lays belong: 
 Thy happy seat inspires my song, 
 
 With gay, perennial blooms, 
 With fruitage fair, and cool retreats, 
 Whose bow'ry wilderness of sweets 
 
 The ambient air perfumes. 
 
 Here spring its earliest buds displays, 
 Here latest on the leafless sprays , 
 
 The plumy people sing ; 
 The vernal show'r, the rip'ning year, 
 Th' autumnal store, the winter drear, 
 
 For thee new pleasures bring. 
 
 Here lapp'd in philosophic ease, 
 Within thy walks, beneath thy trees 
 
 Amidst thine ample farms, 
 No vulgar converse heroes hold, 
 But past or future scenes unfold, 
 
 Or dwell on nature's charms. 
 
 What wondrous ajra have we seen, 
 Plac'd on this isthmus, half between 
 
 A rude and polish'd state ! 
 We saw the war tempestuous rise, 
 In arms a world, in blood the skies, 
 
 In doubt an empire's fate. 
 
 The storm is calm'd, seren'd the heav'n. 
 And mildly o'er the climes of ev'n 
 
 Expands th' imperial day: 
 ' God, the source of light supreme, 
 Shed on our dusky morn a gleam, 
 
 To guide our doubtful way 1 
 
 " Restrain, dread Pow'r, our land from crimes I 
 What see"ks, though blest beyond all times, 
 
 So querulous an age ? 
 What means to freedom such disgust ; 
 Of change, of anarchy the lust, 
 
 The fickleness aud rage ?" 
 
 So spake his country's friend, with sighs, 
 To find that country still despise 
 
 The legacy he gave — 
 And half he fear'd his toils were vain, 
 And much that man would court a chain, 
 
 And live through vice a slave. 
 
 A transient gloom o'ercast his mind : 
 Yet, still on providence reclin'd, 
 
 The patriot fond believ'd, 
 ■ That pow'r benign too much had done, 
 To leave an empire's task begun, 
 
 Imperfectly achiev'd. 
 
 Thus buoy'd with hope, with virtue blest, 
 Of ev'ry human bliss possess'd. 
 
 He meets the happier hours: 
 His skies assume a lovelier blue, 
 His prospects brighter rise to view, 
 
 And fairer bloom his flow'rs. 
 
578 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 THE 8HEPHEED : A SONG. 
 
 (Translated from the French.) 
 
 It rains, it rains, my fair, 
 
 Come drive your white sheep fast : 
 To shelter quick repair, 
 
 Haste, shepherdess, make haste. 
 
 I hear the water pours, 
 
 With patt'ring on the vines: 
 
 See here ! see here ! it lours — 
 See there the lightning shines. 
 
 The thunder dost thou hear? 
 
 Loud roars the rushing storm: 
 Take (while we run, my dear,) 
 
 Protection from ray arm. 
 
 I see our cot, ah, hold ! 
 
 Mamma and sister Nance, 
 To open our sheep-fold, 
 
 Most cheerily advance. 
 
 God bless my mother dear, 
 
 My sister Nancy too ! 
 I bring my sweetheart here, 
 
 To sleep to-night with you. 
 
 Go dry yourself, my friend, 
 And make yourself at home — 
 
 Sister, on her attend : 
 
 Come in, sweet lambkins, come. 
 
 Mamma, let's take good care 
 
 Of all her pretty sheep ; 
 Her little lamb we'll spare 
 
 More straw whereon to sleep. 
 
 'Tis done — now let us haste 
 To her ; — you here, my fair I 
 
 Undress'd, oh, what a waist ! 
 My mother, look you there. 
 
 Let's sup ; come take this place, 
 
 You«hall be next to me ; 
 This pine-knot's cheerful blaze 
 
 Shall shine direct on thee. 
 
 Come taste this cream so sweet, 
 
 This syllabub so warm; 
 Alas! you do not eat: 
 
 You feel e'en yet the storm. 
 
 'Twas wrong— I press'd too much 
 Your steps, when on the way ; 
 
 But here, see here, your couch — * 
 There sleep till dawn of day, 
 
 With gold the mountain tips: — 
 Good-night, good-night, my dove! 
 
 Now let me on your lips 
 Imprint one kiss of love. 
 
 Mamma and I will come, 
 As soon as morn shall shine, 
 
 To see my sweetheart home, 
 And ask her hand for mine. 
 
 THE MONKET, 
 
 Who shaved himself and his Fi 
 
 A Falle. 
 Addressed to the Hon. 
 
 iends. 
 
 A man who own'd a barber's shop 
 At York, and shav'd full many a fop, * 
 A monkey kept for their amusement ; 
 He made no other kind of use on't — 
 This monkey took great observation, 
 Was wonderful at imitation, 
 And all he saw the barber do. 
 He mimie'd straight, and did it too. 
 
 It chanc'd in shop, the dog and cat, 
 While friseur din'd, demurely sat, 
 Jacko found naught to play the knave in, 
 So thought he'd try his hand at shaving. 
 Around the shop in haste he rushes, 
 And gets the razors, soap, and brushes ; 
 Now puss he fix'd (no muscle miss stirs) 
 And lather'd well her beard and whisker's, 
 Then gave a gash, as he began — 
 The cat cry'd " waugh!" and off she ran. 
 
 Next Towser's beard he tried his skill in, 
 Though Towser seem'd somewhat unwilling: 
 As badly here again succeeding, 
 The dog runs howling round, and bleeding. 
 
 Nor yet was tir'd our roguish elf; 
 He'd seen the barber shave himself; 
 So by the glass, upon, the table, 
 He rubs' with soap his visage sable, 
 Then with left hand holds smooth his jaw, — 
 The razor in his dexter paw ; 
 Around he flourishes and slashes, 
 Till all his face is seam'd with gashes. 
 His cheeks dispatch'd — his visage thin 
 He cock'd, to shave beneath his chin; 
 Drew razor swift as he could pull it, 
 And cut, from ear to ear, his gullet. 
 
 Moral. 
 Who cannot write, yet handle pens, 
 Are apt to hurt themselves and friends. 
 Though others use them well, yet fools 
 Should never meddle with edge tools. 
 
 JAMES THACHEE, 
 
 The author of the American Medical Biogra- 
 phy, was born at Barnstable, Mas-achusetts, in 
 1754, of a New England family, which figures 
 conspicuously in the lists of Harvard College. 
 The close of his medical education with Dr. 
 Abner llersey, a noted Massachusetts physician, 
 brought him to the opening of the War of Inde- 
 pendence. He eagerly stepped forward in the 
 cause, and secured the post of surgeon's mate in 
 the provincial hospital at Cambridge. He next 
 became attached to one of the Eastern regiments, 
 and was engaged in the hospital duties after the 
 field at Saratoga. He was afterwards stationed at 
 the Highlands of the Hudson, and was at West 
 Point in 1780, at the tiriie of the treason of 
 Arnold, and witnessed the execution of Andre. ' 
 He was also present at the surrender of Corn- 
 wallis. Of these and other incidents of the cam- . 
 paigns, he gave an interesting account, in his 
 Military Journal during the American Revolu- 
 tionary War, from 1775 to 1783, which was pub- 
 lished in 1824. After the war he settled in 
 Plymouth, Massachusetts, where he remained 
 engaged in the practice of his profession, and in 
 the composition of his numerous writings, till his 
 death, at the advanced age of ninety-one, in May, 
 184-4. Besides the Military Journal already men- 
 tioned, he was the author of an American New 
 Dispensatory, 1810 ; Observations on Hydrojjho- 
 bia, 1821 ; the Modern Practice of Physic, 1817 ; 
 the American Orchardist, 1822 ; a Practical 
 Treatise on the Management of Bees, 1829 ; an 
 Essay on Demonology, Ghosts, Apparitions, and 
 Popular Superstitions, 1831 ; a History of Ply- 
 mouth, 1832; besides various contributions to the 
 journals on medical and scientific topics. His 
 American Medical Biography, or Memoirs of 
 Eminent Physicians who have flourished in 
 
COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 
 
 379 
 
 America, was published in two volumes, in 1828, 
 a work of diligence and authority which has 
 always commanded the respect of the profession. 
 The American Medical Biography, by Dr. Stephen 
 W. Williams,* may be regarded as a supplement 
 to this work. 
 
 COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 
 Fkom an intimation in the records of Trinity 
 church it would appear that, as early as the year 
 1700, it was the intention of the colonial govern- 
 ment, then represented by Lord (Jornbury, to 
 provide a site for a college on the island of New 
 York. The subject appears further to have oc- 
 cupied the attention of Ijishop Berkeley when his 
 Bermuda plan had failed. In 17413 a provincial 
 act was passed for raising money for the purpose 
 by lottery ; and in the next few years a sum ga- 
 thered in this way of more than three thousand 
 four hundred pounds, which was placed in the 
 hands of trustees, a majority of whom were mem- 
 bers of the Church of England, and a part of 
 whom belonged to the vestry of Trinity church. 
 The opposition to this Church of England interest 
 for a long time thwarted the plans of the college. 
 It was led by Mr. William Livingston, who agi- 
 tated the subject in his periodical, " The Indepen- 
 dent Reflector," striving to defeat the proposed 
 royal charter, and substitute another institution, 
 under an act of Assembly, to take possession of 
 the funds. The charter of King's College was, 
 however, granted on the 31st of October, 1754, 
 and Livingston again bent his efforts to set up 
 his own plan of a college. His opposition ended 
 simply in diverting one half of the funds set apart 
 to the city corporation, by which the college was 
 so tar the loser. Dr. Samuel Johnson had been 
 in the meantime invited from his parish at Strat- 
 ford to take charge of the new institution. A 
 better choice could not have been made. A 
 native of Guilford, Connecticut, and a graduate 
 of Yale, he was one of the young clergymen of 
 that region who accompanied President Cutler, 
 to England for Episcopal ordination. He returned 
 to Stratford a missionary of the Society for the 
 Propagation of the Gospel. He had become the 
 friend of Berkeley, whose theory of Idealism he 
 
 Bamuol Johnson. 
 
 'American Medical Biography: or Memoirs of Eminent 
 Physicians, embracing principally those who have died since 
 the publication of Dr. Thacher's work on the same subject. 
 Svo., Greenfield, Mass. 1S40. 
 
 adopted, and invited his liberality to Yale. The 
 University of Oxford had conferred on him the 
 degree of doctor in divinity. Dr. Franklin was 
 anxious that he should take charge of the Univer- 
 sity of Pennsylvania. With such honorable asso- 
 ciations he arrived at New York in his fifty- 
 eighth year. 
 
 Bishop Berkeley, who was acquainted with the 
 wishes of the friends of learning for a college in 
 New York, wrote from his see of Cloyne to 
 Johnson, in 1749. Anticipating the future spe- 
 ciality of the college, its attention to classical 
 studies, lie impressed upon the man marked out 
 for its president, that "the Greek and Latin 
 classics be well taught. Be this the first care as 
 to learning!" To this he added an injunction 
 for the principal care of" good life and morals ;" 
 recommends that the institution should start well, 
 with the infusion of " a good taste into the so- 
 ciety," by a handsome provision for its president 
 and fellows, and suggested that "small premiums 
 in books, or distinctions in habit, may prove use- 
 ful encouragements to the students."* 
 
 The college was organized in May, 1755, when 
 Trinity church conveyed to its governors the land 
 inclosed by Church, Barclay, and Murray streets 
 to the Hudson river.* The only conditions of ' 
 the gift were that the president should always be 
 a member of the Church of England, and that its 
 liturgy should be used hi the service of the col- 
 lege. Beyond this there was to be no exclusion 
 for religious opinion. The college seal was adopt- 
 ed from a device prepared by the president. 
 
 Application was made to England for funds. 
 James Jay went over as applicant, and associated 
 with Dr. Smith, provost of the college in Phila- 
 delphia. A large sum was collected for both insti- 
 tutions. On the 23d of August the first stone of 
 the college building was laid by the governor, 
 Sir Charles Hardy, who had favored the object 
 at the outset, on his first arrival. The first Com- 
 mencement was held in 1758. The original build- 
 ing, the central portion of the present edifice, was 
 completed in 1700. The president, soon contem- 
 plating retirement from age, made application to 
 Archbishop Seeker, in England, for an assistant, 
 who might succeed to his office. Myles Cooper, 
 a young graduate of Oxford, a man of learning 
 and of some taste in poetry, was selected. Dr. 
 Johnson retired to Stratford, when Cooper be- 
 came president, in 1763, and pa-sed his days in 
 his ministry, till his death in 1772 at the age of 
 seventy-five. He wished at the close of his days 
 that he might die like his friend Berkeley, to 
 whom death came suddenly in the quiet of his 
 home, and a similar end was vouchsafed him.t 
 The poetical inscription on the monument over 
 his remains at Stratford, was written by Dr. 
 Cooper : — 
 
 If decent dignity, and modest mien, 
 
 The cheerful heart, and countenance serene ; 
 
 If pure religion arid unsullied truth, 
 
 His age's solace, and his search in youth ; 
 
 In charity, through all the rnce lie ran, 
 
 Still wishing well, and doing good to man ; 
 
 If learning free from pedantry and pride ; 
 
 * The letter is in the Appendix of Chandler's Life. 
 t Chandler's Life, p, 134. 
 
380 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 If faith and virtue 'walking side by side ; 
 
 If well to mark his being's aim and end, 
 
 To shine through life the father and the friend ; 
 
 If these ambition in thy soul can raise, 
 
 Excite thy reverence or demand thy praise, 
 
 Reader, ere yet thou quit this earthly scene, 
 
 Revere his name, and be what he has been. 
 
 Johnson's life was written by his friend Dr. 
 Chandler, the zealous advocate of episcopacy, but 
 did not appear till 1805* 
 
 Besides a number of discourses and other writ- 
 ings on church topics, Dr. Johnson published, in 
 1740, a System of Morality and a Compendium 
 of Logic and Metaphysics, treatises with which 
 Benjamin Franklin was so pleased that he printed 
 them together in a volume in 1755, which was 
 reprinted in London, where also a third edition 
 appeared in 1754, corrected by the author, with 
 a preface by Dr. William Smith, afterwards pro- 
 vost of the College of Pennsylvania. An Eng- 
 lish and Hebrew Grammar, being the first short 
 rudiments of the two languages taught together, 
 to which is added a Synopsis of all the Parts of 
 Learning, appeared from his pen in London, in 
 1757.+ 
 
 The name of the second^ president, Myles Coo- 
 per, being somewhat prominently connected with 
 the Revolutionary era in New York, and his 
 story furnishing several notable anecdotes, it may 
 be of interest to state particularly what is known 
 of his life and writings. 
 
 Myles Cooper came over to America in 1762. 
 lie brought a letter from Archbishop Seeker, 
 who had chosen him, at the request of the col- 
 lege, as a competent assistant and successor to 
 President Johnson. The amiable and useful friend 
 to America, Dr. Fotliergill, had a hand in this 
 appointment.! He was then but twenty-seven 
 years of age ; a youthful incumbent of so grave 
 an office, in which he was fully installed the fol- 
 lowing year. Cooper was born in 1735. -He 
 took the degree of Master of Arts at the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford in 1760, and the next year pub- 
 lished a volume of poems by subscription at that 
 city.§ They are occasional verses, amatory and 
 bacchanalian, full of the spirit of the old English 
 gentleman who sang of Chloe, Delia, and Silvia ; 
 put old stories of cuckoldry into epigrams, and 
 wrote heroic little poems on ladies' gaiters ; at 
 times subsiding into tranquillity in an ode to 
 Contentment, or some touching lines to a Sing- 
 ing Bird in Confinement, and rising — if it be 
 rising — into dull stanzas on sacred subjects ; for 
 all of these things did Myles Cooper in his salad 
 days at Oxford, before he came to America to 
 confront "sons of liberty" on the Hudson. It is 
 not likely that he brought many copies of his 
 
 * Thomas Bradbury Chandler was born in Woodstock, Con- 
 necticut, and was a graduate of Yale. He was ordained in Eng- 
 land in 1751, and became rector at Eiizabethtown, New Jersey, 
 on bis return. He died at the age of sixty-four, in 1790. His 
 chief writings were controversial, against Chauucy of Boston, 
 in defence of Episcopacy. 
 
 t An Historical Sketch of Columbia College, in the City of 
 New York, 184li, by N. F. Moore, late President. A small 
 volume compactly filled with important information. We 
 have been greatly indebted to its faithful narrative throughout 
 this notice. 
 
 t M'Vickar's Life of Bard, 29. 
 
 § Poems on Several Occasions, by Myles Cooper, M.A., of 
 Queen's College, Oxford. 8peB rut animi nostra iimoreminor. 
 —Ovid. Oxford. Printed by W. Jackson. Svo. 
 
 Poems over for the use of the students and the 
 eyes- of sober Dr. Johnson of Connecticut, with 
 the letter of the archbishop. Some of his verses 
 are censurable, though the taste of the age al- 
 lowed publications then to gentlemen which the 
 more delicate standard of the present day would 
 reject. 
 
 It was one of the doctor's notions in his book 
 that power, bower, tower, should be printed 
 when they made one syllable in poetry, -powre, 
 bowre, towre, and he modestly states in his un- 
 settled, apologetic preface, that some of his poems 
 were imitations, and others were written by his 
 friends. 
 
 In this old British period the young president's 
 manners and convivial habits were much admired. 
 He was a member of a literary club, which, " like 
 those of modern days, mixed up a little literature 
 with a great deal of conviviality."* 
 
 On the breaking out of the Pievolution, Myles 
 Cooper, with Seabnry and Auchmuty, were active 
 on the Tory side in writing and scheming. Cooper 
 is said to have had a hand in the tract, a publi- 
 cation of the times — A Friendly Address to all 
 reasonable Americans, on the subject of our Poli- 
 tical Confusions ; in ichich the necessary conse- 
 quences of violently opposing the King's troops, 
 and of a 'general Non- Importation are fairly 
 stated ; which one of his pupils, the young Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, who had matriculated at the 
 college in 1774, answered with signal ability. He 
 is twice -mentioned in M'Fingal. 
 
 Cooper became exceedingly obnoxious to the 
 
 * M'Yickar's Life of Bard, 100. " Among its members were 
 Dr. Samuel Bard, Kenipe, attorney-general, Baehe, Joues, 
 Middleton, and Sherbrooke." 
 
COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 
 
 381 
 
 people, as one of the Tory plotters, and in April, 
 1775, he and his friends received a significant 
 hint from a published letter, signed " Three Mil- 
 lions," to " fly for their lives, or anticipate their 
 doom by becoming their own executioners."* 
 
 On the night of May 10, of that year, after 
 Hamilton and his youthful companions had de- 
 stroyed the guns on the Battery, and one of their 
 comrades had fallen, the mob became incensed, 
 and proceeded to expel Dr. Cooper from the col- 
 lege. Hamilton and Troup, students, ascended 
 the steps, and, to restrain the rioters, Hamilton 
 addressed them " on the excessive impropriety of 
 their conduct, and the disgrace they were bring- 
 ing on the cause of liberty, of which they pro- 
 fessed to be the champions." Dr. Cooper, who 
 mistook the case and thought he was exciting the 
 people, cried out from an upper window, "Don't 
 listen to him, gentlemen ; he is crazy, he is crazy" 
 — but Hamilton kept them engaged till the Tory 
 president escaped.t He made his way half-dressed 
 over the college fence, and wandered about the 
 shore of the Hudson till near morning, when he 
 found shelter in the old Stuyvesant mansion in 
 the Bowery, where he passed the day, and was 
 at night taken on board the Kingfisher, Captain 
 James Montagu, an English ship-of-war in the 
 harbor, in which he sailed to England. J He kept 
 the anniversary of these events next year by writ- 
 ing a poem, full of the circumstances, which he 
 published in the Gentleman's Magazine for July, 
 1776. It is a favorable specimen of his poetical 
 powers. 
 
 STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE EVENING OF TITE 10TH OP MAT, 
 1776, BY AN EXILE FEOM AMEKICA. 
 
 To thee, God, by whom I live, 
 The tribute of my soul to give 
 
 On this eventful day, 
 To thee, God, my voice I raise ; 
 To thee address my grateful praise. 
 
 And swell the duteous lay. 
 
 Now has this orb unceasing run 
 Its annual circuit round the sun, 
 
 Since when the heirs of strife, 
 Led by the pale moon's midnight ray, 
 And bent on mischief, urged their way. 
 
 To seize my guiltless life. 
 
 At ease my weary limbs were laid, 
 And slumbers sweet around me shed 
 
 The blessings of repose : 
 Unconscious of the dark design, 
 1 knew no base intent was mine, 
 
 And therefore feared no foes. 
 
 When straight, a heav'n-directed youth, 
 Whom oft my lessons led to truth, 
 
 And honour's sacred shrine, 
 Advancing quick before the rest, 
 With trembling tongue my ear addrest, 
 
 Yet sure in voice divine : 
 
 " Awake ! awake ! the storm is nigh — 
 This instant rouse — this instant fly — 
 
 The next may be too late — 
 Four hundred men, a murderous band, 
 Access, importunate, demand, 
 
 And shake the groaning gate." 
 
 • Force's American Archives, Fourth. Series, ii. 3S9. 
 + Life of Hamilton, by John 0. Hamilton, vol. i. 
 t Prest. N. F. Moore's Historical Sketch of Columbia Col- 
 lege, p. Gl, and Appendix. 
 
 I wake — I fly — while loud and near, 
 Dread execrations wound my ear, 
 
 And sore my soul dismay. 
 One avenue alone remained, 
 A speedy passage there I gained, 
 
 And winged my rapid way. 
 
 That moment, all the furious throng, 
 An entrance forcing, poured along, 
 
 And filled my peaceful cell ; ' 
 Where harmless jest, and modest mirth. 
 And cheerful laughter oft had birth, 
 
 And joy was wont to dwell. 
 
 Not e'en the Muses' hallowed fane* 
 Their lawless fury can restrain, 
 
 Or check their headlong haste; 
 They push them from their solemn seats, 
 Profane their long revered retreats, 
 
 And lay their Pindus waste. 
 
 Nor yet content — but hoping still 
 Their impious purpose to fulfil, 
 
 They force each yielding door; 
 And while their curses load my head 
 With piercing steel they probe the bed. 
 
 And thirst for human gore. 
 
 Meanwhile along the sounding shore, 
 Where Hudson's waves incessant roar, 
 
 I work my weary way; 
 And skirt the windings of the tide, 
 My faithful pupil by my side, 
 
 Nor wish the approach of day. 
 
 At length, ascending from the beach, 
 With hopes revived, by morn I reach 
 
 The good Palemon's cot ; 
 Where, free from terror and affright, 
 I calmly wait the coming night 
 
 My every fear forgot. 
 
 'Twos then I scaled the vessel's side,-)* 
 Where all the amities abide, 
 
 That mortal worth can boast ; 
 Whence, with a longing, lingering view, 
 I bade my much loved York adieu, 
 
 And sought my native coast. 
 
 Now, all composed, from danger far, 
 I hear no more the din of war, 
 
 Nor shudder at alarms ; 
 But safely sink each night to rest, 
 No malice rankling through my breast, 
 
 Iii Freedom's fostering arms. 
 
 Though stript of most the world admires, 
 Yet, torn by few untamed desires, 
 
 I rest in calm content ; 
 And humbly hope a gracious Lord 
 Again those blessings will afford 
 
 Which once his bounty lent. 
 
 Yet, still, for many a faithful friend, 
 Shall, day by day, my vows ascend 
 
 Thy dwelling, O my God! 
 "Who steady still in virtue's cause, 
 Despising faction's mimic laws, 
 
 The paths of peace have trod. 
 
 Nor yet for friend* alone — for all, 
 
 Too prone to heed sedition's call, 
 
 Ileal- me, indulgent Ucav'n ! 
 
 * ne alludes to the college edifice converted into a military 
 hospital, and which a note on this passage intended for his 
 English readers describes as — "an elegant edifice, since con- 
 verted into common barracks. 1 ' 
 
 t The Kingfisher, Captain James Montngu. 
 
3S2 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " may they oast their arms away, 
 To Thee and George submission pay, 
 Repent, and be forgiven." 
 
 Upon bis arrival in England Dr. Cooper be- 
 came one of the ministers of the English Chapel 
 in Edinburgh,* in which capacity he died at that 
 city, suddenly, May 1, 1785. The epitaph which 
 he wrote for himself is characteristic : — 
 
 Here lies a priest of English blood, 
 
 'Who, living, lik'd whate'er was good ; 
 
 Good company, good wine, good name, 
 
 Yet never hunted after fame ; 
 
 But as the first he still preferr'd, 
 
 So here he chose to be interr'd, 
 
 And, unobscur'd, froni crowds withdrew 
 
 To rest among a chosen few, 
 
 In humble hopes that Sovereign love 
 
 Will raise him to be blest above. 
 
 His portrait, which hangs in the college library, 
 was engraved for a biographical article in the 
 American Medical and Philosophical Begister.i 
 It exhibits his happy constitutional temperament. 
 
 Upon the flight of Dr. Cooper in 1775, the 
 Rev. Benjamin Moore was appointed president 
 pro tern., but the college education was soon en- 
 tirely interrupted by the Revolution. The build- 
 ing was taken possession of as a military hospital ; 
 the library, containing many valuable works from 
 the University of Oxford and other sources, was 
 removed and almost destroyed, but a few of the 
 books coming to light many years afterwards in a 
 room of St. Paul's chapel. There were conse- 
 quently no graduates from 1776 to 1784. On the 
 restoration of peace the iron crown was removed 
 from the cupola of King's College, which hence- 
 forth, by the act of 1784, and under the new or- 
 ganization of trustees established in 1787, became 
 Columbia College. The first student who pre- 
 sented himself after the Revolution was Devvitt 
 Clinton; one of the last who left the college be- 
 fore it was Alexander Hamilton. John Ran- 
 dolph, of Virginia, appears among the early stu- 
 dents of the restoration. 
 
 A new president was appointed in 1787, "Wil- 
 liam Samuel Johnson, of Stratford, son of the 
 first incumbent. He was fifty years of age at the 
 time, was a graduate of Yale arid Harvard, had 
 been a delegate to Congress of 1705 at New York, 
 and agent of Connecticut in England, where he 
 formed the acquaintance of such men as Seeker, 
 Berkeley, Lowth, and others, including the levia- 
 than Dr. Samuel Johnson, who became his corre- 
 spondent on his return to America. He was a 
 Fellow of the Royal Society, and had the degree 
 of doctor of divinity from Oxford. Among other 
 honors and offices he was delegate to the Con- 
 vention of the Constitution of the United States, 
 and exercised an important influence in its deli- 
 berations. While Congress sat in New York he 
 represented his native state in that body, assist- 
 ing with Ellsworth in the formation of the judi- 
 ciary, and on its removal to Philadelphia resigned 
 his senatorship, and occupied himself exclusively 
 with the government of the college till Ins with- 
 drawal in 1800 from the infirmities of years. He 
 
 * Arnnt's Hist. Edinburgh, p. 2S6. 
 t Vol. iii. 29?. 
 
 died in Stratford, in 1810, at the age of ninety- 
 two. Verplanck has applied to his retirement 
 the lines of Dr. Johnson : — ■ , 
 
 The virtues of a temperate prime, 
 Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime 
 And age that melts with unperceived decay, 
 And glides in pious innocence away ; 
 Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, 
 Whose night congratulating conscience cheers, 
 The general fav'rite as the geueraV friend, 
 Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?* 
 
 The Rev. Charles Wharton, of Philadelphia, 
 was elected his successor, but immediately resign- 
 ing, the Rt. Rev. Benjamin Moore was chosen, 
 arid held the office from 1801 to 1811. 
 
 The Rev. William Harris succeeded Bishop 
 Moore for a period of eighteen years, till 1829. 
 For the first six years of his administration Dr. 
 John M. Mason was in a manner associated with 
 the office, with the title of provost, an officer 
 who, in the absence of the president, was to sup- 
 ply his place. 
 
 The Hon. William A. Duer, elected at the close 
 of 1829, discharged the duties of the office till 
 1812. 
 
 William Alexander Duer was born September 
 8, 1780, at Rhinebeck, Dutchess county, New 
 York. His father was Commissary-General for 
 the Northern Department, and a member of the 
 Committee of Public Safety. After the declara- 
 tion of peace, 1783, he began the study of law 
 with the eminent Peter S. Duponcean, in Phila- 
 delphia, and continued it with the late Nathaniel 
 Pendleton of New York. During the quasi war 
 with France of 1798, he obtained the appoint- 
 ment of midshipman in the Navy, and served 
 under Decatur. On the adjustment of the 
 French question he resumed his law studies with 
 Pendleton, and being admitted to the bar in 
 1802, shortly afterwards formed a connexion in 
 business with Edward Livingston, who was then 
 district attorney and mayor of the city, which 
 continued until the latter's removal to New Or- 
 leans. He then formed a professional partner- 
 ship with his brother-in-law, Beverly Robinson. 
 About this period he made his first essays in 
 authorship as a contributor to a partisan weekly 
 paper, the Corrector, conducted by Dr. Peter 
 Irving, and enlisted in the support of Burr. It 
 was a temporary affair, and the parties engaged 
 in it were by no means committed subsequently 
 to any disaffection towaids the high character 
 of General Hamilton. Mr. Duer shortly after 
 joined Livingston at New Orleans, and devoted 
 himself to the study of the Spanish civil law. 
 He was successful, but was induced by the cli- 
 mate and his marriage with a lady of New York, 
 the daughter of William Denning, a prominent 
 Whig of the Revolution, to resume his practice 
 in the latter city. In his new position he con- 
 tributed literary articles to his friend Dr. Iving's 
 newspaper, the Morning Chronicle. He next 
 opened an office in his native town, Rhine- 
 beck, and in 1814 was elected to the State As- 
 sembly. In this position he was appointed chair- 
 man of a committee on colleges, academies, and 
 
 * Quoted in'Vcrplanek's Art. on Prest Johnson in Knapp'e 
 Am. ljiog. 
 
COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 
 
 383 
 
 other interests of science and literature, and suc- 
 ceeded in the passage of a bill which is the 
 original of the existing law on the subject of the 
 common school income. He was also chairman 
 of the important committee which arraigned the 
 constitutionality of the state law vesting the 
 right of river-navigation in Livingston and Ful- 
 ton* He continued in the legislature till 1817. 
 Daring this time he bore a prominent part in 
 laying the foundation of the present canal legis- 
 lation, and employed his efforts to check abuses 
 growing out of the old lottery system. In 1822, 
 with the adjustment of the courts under the new 
 constitution, he was appointed judge of the Su- 
 preme Court in the third circuit, and held the 
 office for seven years, till his appointment to the 
 presidency of Columbia College. In his new 
 administration he soon arranged a better dis- 
 tribution of college studies, and added one hour 
 daily by the system to the time of instruction, 
 taking charge himself of the exercises of the 
 Freshman class in English composition, and de- 
 livering to the seniors a course of lectures on 
 the constitutional jurisprudence of the United 
 States. These "outlines" were published in 
 1833, and subsequently revised and issued in 
 Messrs. Harper's "Family" and "School Dis- 
 trict" libraries. Dr. Doer's presidency of the 
 college, which closed with his retirement in ill 
 health in 1842, win marked by his high-toned 
 and gentlemanly administration of its affairs. 
 His courtesy, while it called for little exercise of 
 discipline, secured him the respect of the stu- 
 dents. During this period, at the request of the 
 corporation, he delivered a eulogy upon President 
 Monroe, which was pronounced in the open air 
 from the portico of the City Hall. Since his re- 
 tirement President Duer has resided at Morris- 
 town, Njw Jersey. His restored health and lei- 
 sure have given him opportunity for literary 
 pursuits, which he has availed himself of to 
 write the life of his maternal grandfather Lord 
 Stirling, which has been published as a volume 
 of their collections by the Historical Society of 
 New Jersey. In 1817 he delivered in the col- 
 lege chapel an address before the literary socie- 
 ties of Columbia, which has been published; and 
 in 1848 an historical address of interest before 
 the St Nicholas Society, in which he reviews 
 his early reminiscences of New York, and de- 
 scribes the scenes connected with the inaugura- 
 tion of Washington. This was published, and 
 forms a valuable contribution to American histo- 
 rical memoirs. 
 
 Judge Duer was succeeded by Nathaniel F. 
 Moore, who held the office till the autumn of 
 1849, when he resigned it and retired to private 
 life. 
 
 Nathaniel F. Moore was born at Newtown, 
 Long Island, on the 25th of December, 1782. 
 His father, William Moore, removed to New 
 York in the following autumn, and there con- 
 tinued to reside in the practice of his profession, 
 as a highly respected physician, until 1824. Na- 
 thaniel was prepared for college by Mr. Samuel 
 Rudd. He pursued his studies at Columbia Col- 
 lege, and took his degree of A.B. in the year 1802, 
 
 * Art. Fitch's and Fulton's Steam-Navigation. — Putnam's 
 Monthly Mag., Jan., 1SS5. 
 
 during the presidency of his uncle, the Rt. Rev. 
 Bishop Moore. On this occasion he delivered the 
 salutatory addres->, with an oration, De Astrono- 
 
 ' rnim Laudibus. After leaving college Mr. Moore 
 studied law under Beverly Robinson, and was 
 admitted to the bar in 1S05. In the year 1817 
 he was appointed adjunct professor of the Greek 
 and Latin languages in his alma mater, and soon 
 after, in 1820, he succeeded Dr. Wilson as pro- 
 fessor in the same department. In 1825 he re- 
 
 '. ceived from Columbia College the degree of 
 LL.D., which in this conferred on him another 
 mark of her approbation of his faithful and valu- 
 
 : able services. In 1835 he resigned his professor- 
 ship and made a visit to Europe. On Ids return 
 in 1837 the college purchased his valuable libra- 
 
 : ry, and appointed him librarian, an office which 
 he held only long enough to reorganize the libra- 
 
 | ry, incorporate his own books therewith, and 
 make a catalogue of the whole collection. In 
 
 : 1839 he again went abroad, and, on this occa- 
 
 \ sion, he visited Greece, Egypt, and the Holy 
 Land. Dr. Moore has not been a voluminous 
 writer, but he has made some very valuable ad- 
 ditions to the clas-ical publications of this coun- 
 try, particularly in the work entitled Ancient 
 Mineralogy. He published also Remarks on the 
 Pronunciation of the Greek Language, in reply 
 to a pamphlet of Mr. Pickering's on the same 
 subject ; Lectures on the Greek Language and 
 Literature, and An Historical Sketch of Colum- 
 bia College, besides several smaller pamphlets 
 and essays. 
 
 The successor of Dr. Moore in the presidency, 
 Charles King, the second son of Rufus King, was 
 born in the City of New York, March 16, 1789. 
 His mother was Mary ALop, of an eminent family 
 of the state. He removed with his family to 
 England in 1796, when Rufus King was appoint- 
 ed by Washington minister to the English court. 
 He received there the principal part of his edu- 
 cation. After passing a year or two at a prepa- 
 ratory school, near London, he was sent with his 
 brother John A. King to Harrow, one of the large 
 public schools of England. Alter five years spent 
 at that school, where among the companions of 
 about his own age were Lord Byron and the late 
 Sir Robert Peel, he went to Paris, and passed a 
 year at one of the chief schools in that city, a 
 school under the special patronage of the Em- 
 press Josephine, two of whose nephews, the'Tas- 
 cher de la Pageries, were among the scholars. 
 
 At Paris he witnessed the early scenes of the 
 Empire, the review of the troops, and the de- 
 parture for the campaign which was decided at 
 Austerlitz. From these scenes of war he was 
 withdrawn on the return of Rufus King to tho 
 United States, to take his place, in pursuance of 
 an arrangement made with Sir Francis Baring 
 of London, the eminent banker and friend of his 
 father, as a clerk in the house of Hope & Co. at 
 Amsterdam. At the close of the year 1806 he 
 returned to his native country after an absence 
 of ten years, and was soon admitted a clerk in 
 the mercantile house of Archibald Grade. In 
 1810 he married the eldest daughter of Mr. Gra- 
 de, and became partner with him in his emi- 
 nently prosperous career of commerce, which 
 terminated disastrously, however, in 1823, when 
 the partnership was dissolved. 
 
384 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 During the war of 1812 Mr. King was twice 
 called into the military service of the United 
 States. In the autumn of 1813 he was chosen 
 one of the representatives from the city, to the 
 legislature of the state; but after serving one 
 term declined a re-election. Called by the affairs 
 of his house to Europe he spent two years there, 
 accompanied by his family, returning to the Uni- 
 ted States in 1817. 
 
 Two years after this date, in 1819, appeared 
 the first number of the New York American, 
 which was in the commencement conducted by 
 James A. Hamilton, Johnston Verplanck, and 
 Charles King. The paper was bold and aggres- 
 sive, and made itself feared. At the close of the 
 first year Messrs. Hamilton and King withdrew 
 from any active and responsible connexion with 
 the paper to the more pressing calls of their re- 
 spective avocations, and Mr. Verplanck remained 
 sole editor. He converted the weekly into a 
 daily T paper, still preserving its first name. 
 
 At that time the newspapers of the city were 
 the old Gazette of Lang and Turner, and the Mer- 
 cantile Advertiser of Butler, both mainly ad- 
 vertising sheets and records of ship-news, with 
 perhaps a column or two daily of general in- 
 telligence. The Daily Advertiser by Theodore 
 Dwight, and the National Advocate by M. M. 
 Noah, were the two political morning papers. 
 The evening papers were the Evening Post by 
 "William Coleman, the Commercial Advertiser by 
 Zachariah Lewis and William L. Stone, and the 
 Columbian by Charles Holt, and afterwards Na- 
 thaniel H. Carter. Among these, but very dif- 
 ferent in tone and aims from all of them, the 
 New York American took its place. For three 
 years Mr. Verplanck conducted the paper, at the 
 end of which time Mr. King, whose commercial 
 career was ended, became again his associate, 
 and after a few months, upon Mr. Verplanck re- 
 tiring into the country, the sole proprietor and 
 editor of the New York American. It remained 
 under his exclusive charge and management until 
 1847, when it was merged in the New York 
 Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 But although sole editor, Mr. King had many 
 and able correspondents and contributors. Among 
 them were Joseph Blunt and Nathaniel B. Blunt, 
 Charles F. Hoffman, A. Robertson Bodgers, Cu- 
 ban C. Verplanck, John and William A. Duer, 
 Kudolph Bunner, Edmund H. Pendleton, John 
 A. Dix, Henry Carv, the Rev. Dr. Bethune, Ri- 
 chard Ray ; and among its correspondents from 
 AYashington, Rufus King, John Quiney Adams, 
 Henry Clay, Senator Mills of Mass., Senator 
 Johnson of Louisiana, and Henry R. Storrs of 
 the House of Representatives. 
 
 One position the American always held. At 
 a period when coarse personalities were the ha- 
 bitual language of editorial contests, it always 
 treated its newspaper opponents as impersonali- 
 ties, directing its arguments, in its often very 
 plain talk, against the newspaper by name and 
 not against the editor. In another walk the 
 American led the way to a liberal improvement 
 of the newspaper, now generally adopted, in its 
 full literary articles, in which each Saturday the 
 books of the week were passed under review 
 with copious extracts. Its independence, allied 
 with a due sense of responsibility, were features 
 
 of Mr. King's editorship. The journal, too, was 
 governed by a principle of taste involving a high 
 question of morals, in its careful abstinence from 
 vulgar and vicious means of excitement. It care- 
 fully rejected horrors, both physical and moral, 
 from its columns ; while the contrary practice, 
 leading to immediate profit, has too frequently 
 prevailed to the corruption of the public mind. 
 
 After a brief editorial connexion with the 
 Courier and Enquirer, Mr. King, in the spring of 
 1848, withdrew to private life. 
 
 In November of that year he was elected Pre- 
 sident of Columbia College, and immediately en- 
 tered upon the duties of that office, which he still 
 occupies. 
 
 For the preceding ten or twelve years Mr. 
 King had been a resident of the State of New 
 Jersey, at Elizabethtown, whence he daily came 
 to New York. His residence in New Jersey gave 
 additional significance to the degree of LL.D., 
 which was conferred upon him at a special ses- 
 sion of the college at Princeton, immediately 
 upon his election to the presidency of Columbia 
 College. A few weeks afterwards Harvard Col- 
 lege, where his father had been graduated nearly 
 seventy years before, also conferred upon him the 
 like degree of doctor of laws. 
 
 Of the old Profe-sors of this institution, the 
 Rev. Dr. John C. Kunze held a Professorship of 
 ancient languages from 1784 to 1787, and from 
 1792 to 1795. He was a native of Saxony, and 
 had been educated at the Halle orphan-house and 
 studied theology at the University of that city. 
 From Halle he was called, in 1771, to the service 
 of the Lutheran congregations, in Philadelphia, 
 of St. Michael's and Zion's churches, where he 
 continued fourteen years. He was one of the 
 first of his educated countrymen in America to 
 urge the propriety of educating the German youth 
 in English. By maintaining a contrary course, 
 the German and Dutch congregations, where the 
 preaching was kept up in those languages, lost 
 many of their members. From Philadelphia Dr. 
 Kunze came to New York, and took charge of 
 the German Lutheran church. At this time he 
 composed a hymn-book of German hymns trans- 
 lated into English verse, in which he mostly pre- 
 served the metre of the original. He also com- 
 posed a liturgy and catechism in English. His 
 position in New York, and the estimate set upon 
 his learning, may be judged of from his appoint- 
 ments in Columbia College. On the formation of 
 a second synod of the American Lutheran Church, 
 he was elected its first President, a position which 
 he accepted to carry out his liberal views in 
 adopting the use of the Engli>h language in 
 churches and in education. The benevolence of 
 his character was celebrated. He died in 1807, 
 after twenty-four years passed with his congrega- 
 tion at New York.* 
 
 Of John Kemp, the Professor of Mathematics 
 and Natural Philosophy from 1786 to his death 
 in 1812, Professor Eenwiek, in his alumni address, 
 speaks in high terms, attributing to him an im- 
 portant influence in moulding the views of De 
 
 * History of the American Lutheran Church, from its com- 
 mencement, in the year of our Lord 10S5, to the year 1S42. 
 By Ernest L. Hazelius. D.D.. Professor of Theology in the 
 Theological Seminary of the Lutheran Synod of S. C.,' pp. 1L0, 
 132. 
 
COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 
 
 385 
 
 Witt Clinton on topics of internal improvement 
 and national policy* Kemp's interest in the sub- 
 ject led him, in 1810, to make a journey to Lake 
 Erie, to satisfy himself of the project of the canal, 
 which he pronounced, in advance of the surveys, 
 entirely practicable. Kemp served the college for 
 a long period and with signal ability. 
 
 Peter Wilson was Professor of the Greek and 
 Latin languages, with a short interval of service, 
 from 1789 to 1820, when he retired on a pension. 
 He was a native of Scotland, and was educated 
 at Aberdeen. lie prepared a Greek Prosody 
 which was long in use, and edited Sallust. 
 
 Verplanck speaks of Dr. John Bowden, the 
 Professor of Moral Philosophy and Logic from 
 1801 till 1817, " with a pupil's grateful remem- 
 brance, as a scholar, a reasoner, and a gentleman," 
 and commemorates " his pure taste, his deep and 
 accurate erudition, his logical acnteness, and the 
 dignified rectitude of his principles and charac- 
 
 ter."t 
 
 The Rev. Dr. John M'Vickar, whose occupa- 
 tion of the Professorship of Moral Philosophy, 
 Rhetoric, and Belles Lettres, dates from 1817, was 
 born in 1787, and was a graduate of the college 
 with the class of 1804. He then passed some 
 time at Cambridge, in England: He was settled 
 as a clergyman at Hyde Park, from 1811 to 
 1817. 
 
 In 1822, Professor M'Vickar paid an amiable 
 tribute to the family with which he had become 
 connected in marriage, by the publication of A 
 Domestic Narrative of the Life of Samuel Bard, 
 one of the old New York celebrities, the physi- 
 cian of Washington, whose father had been the 
 companion of Franklin. This domestic narrative 
 belongs to a valuable class of compositions in 
 reference to the early history of the country, 
 which are seldom executed with the same skill. 
 Its picture of the old New York society, and of 
 the friends gathered around its subject in his re- 
 tirement at Hyde Park, is of permanent interest. 
 
 Dr. Bard deserves mention in the history of 
 education in America, for his services to Colum- 
 bia College after the war, in his lectures on 
 Natural Philosophy, one of the fruits of his dis- 
 cipline at Edinburgh in the great days of its 
 University ; his earlier establishment of the Medi- 
 cal School in New York, then attached to the 
 College, of which he was Professor of the Theory 
 and Practice of Medicine from 1707 to 1776 ; his 
 services to other medical institutions of the city ; 
 and his occasional addresses, chiefly on topics 
 connected with his profession. He died at Hyde 
 Park, May 24, 1821, in his eightieth year, twenty- 
 four hours after the death of his wife, with whom 
 ho had lived for fifty-five years. 
 
 In 1825, Dr. M'Vickar published a volume, 
 Outlines of Political Economy. In 1834, he pub- 
 lished a memoir of Bishop Hobart with the title 
 Early Years, followed in 1836 by The Pro- 
 fessional Years of Bishop Hobart. He is also 
 the author of numerous essays, addresses, reviews, 
 and occasional publications. He has hold impor- 
 tant positions in the church and the diocese, and 
 is a member of the Standing Committee. Of late 
 
 * Discourse on Do "Witt Clinton, pp. IT, 20. 
 
 t Address before (he Phitolexian and Pcithologian Societies, 
 1SS0. By Gulian C. Verplanck. 
 ' VOL. I. — 25 
 
 years he has been chaplain to the station of the 
 United States forces at Governor's Island. As a 
 college professor, Dr. M'Vickar has pursued the 
 higher interests of the subjects intrusted to his 
 hands with signal tact and ability. His course 
 of instruction is eminently clear and practical, 
 while he quietly but efficiently leads the student 
 in the discipline of taste and philosophy. 
 
 The connexion of Dr. Charles Anthon with 
 the college, which has so greatly promoted and 
 established its repute for classical studies, dates 
 from the year 1820, when at the age of twenty- 
 three, having been a graduate of the college in 
 1815, and divided his law studies of the interim 
 with ancient literature, he was appointed adjunct 
 professor of Greek and Latin languages. In 1830 
 he took the title of Jay professor of these studies, 
 and in 1835, on the resignation of Dr. Moore, 
 succeeded to the leading chair in these depart- 
 ments. A grammar-school, in union with the 
 college, having been projected in 1S27, and hav- 
 ing gone into successful operation in the building 
 on the college grounds in Murray street erected 
 for the purpose, Professor Anthon, in 1830, 
 succeeded the first rector, John D. Ogilby, a good 
 scholar, and with a warm generous nature, who 
 subsequently entered the Episcopal ministry, and 
 became eminent, as Professor of Ecclesiastical 
 History, in the General Protestant Episcopal The- 
 ological Seminary at New York. 
 
 The long series of Professor Anthon's classical 
 publications dates from this time, commencing 
 with an edition of Horace, in two octavo volumes, 
 in 1830, laden with the rich stores of learning of 
 this fruitful topic, and enlivened by the enthusi- 
 astic labor of the youthful scholar. It was by 
 far the best specimen of scholarship in this walk 
 of literature which the country had then seen, 
 and still maintains its place as a valuable library 
 edition, while in a slightly curtailed form it is 
 generally in use with teachers and pupils. To 
 the Horace succeeded similar annotated editions 
 of Sallust, Cicero, Cassar, the yEneid, the Ec- 
 logues, and Georgics, six books of the Iliad, the 
 Germania and Agricola of Tacitus, Xenophon's 
 Anabasis and Memorabilia, the Treatise on Old 
 Age and Tusculan Disputations of Cicero* 
 
 Among other services to classical studies was 
 Anthon's displacement of the old meagre edition 
 of Lempriere's Dictionary, which, at the date of 
 his Jay professorship, was the best work in use of 
 its kind. It was lirst enlarged by him in several 
 editions — each an improvement on the previous 
 one — and afterwards entirely superseded by his 
 Classical Dictionary in 1841. In his works in 
 illustration of the ancient languages and litera- 
 ture; his several elementary and other gram- 
 mars ; his volumes on the composition and pro- 
 sody of both tongues ; his manuals of Ancient 
 Geography, and his Greek and Roman Antiqui- 
 ties, he has brought together the amplest stores 
 of foreign scholarship. 
 
 A glance at the old copies of Lempriere, and 
 at the grammars and other books of classical in- 
 struction in use in the country in the first quar- 
 
 * Tho first publishers of Dr. Anthon's books were G. and C. 
 Carvill, in Broadway. In 1888, the extensive classical S"rioa 
 "was undertaken by the Harpers, and now forms one of the 
 largest sections of the volume of their trade catalogue. 
 
386 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ter of the century, will show the rapid develop- 
 ment which dates from the beginning of Dr. 
 Anthon's labors. In the preface to his present 
 Classical Dictionary, he tells us of the surprise 
 created with the trade, when, in 1825, he pro- 
 posed making some alterations in the text of 
 Lempriere, and how he received for answer, 
 that " one might as well think of making altera- 
 tions in the Scriptures as in the pages of Dr. 
 Lempriere." When an opportunity was once 
 gained to exhibit the new stores of German and 
 English acquisition, the progress was rapidly on- 
 ward. The books of Dr. Anthon became dis- 
 tinguished for the fulness and accuracy of their 
 information, and still hold their ground by their 
 ample illustrations of the text. As a critic of 
 the ancient languages he is ingenious and acute, 
 while his scholarship and reading cover the vast 
 field of classical investigation in various depart- 
 ments of philosophy, history, art, and literature. 
 The personal influence and resources of Dr. 
 Anthon, his vivacity and quickness of illustration, 
 are commensurate with these extended labors, 
 which sit lightly upon an iron constitution. He 
 still, as rector of the grammar-school and in his 
 Professor's chair, pursues and enlivens the daily 
 toil of tuition, communicating to hi-; pupils an 
 enthusiasm for his favorite studies. His literary 
 labors in the illustration of the classics are still 
 in progress; editions of Ovid's Metamorphoses 
 and Terence's Comedies having been interrupted 
 only for a short time, by the tire which destroyed 
 the premises of the Messrs. Harper, in Decem- 
 ber, 1853. 
 
 Professor James Renwick, a graduate of the 
 College of the year 1807, filled the chair of Na- 
 tural and Experimental Philosophy and Chemis- 
 try from 1820 to 1854. During this time he 
 occupied a prominent position as a man of science 
 through his contributions to the journals and 
 leading reviews, his lectures before scientific asso- 
 ciations, and his occasional engagements in pub- 
 
 he services. He was one of the United States 
 Commissioners in the survey of the North-Eastern 
 boundary. His writings are numerous. He 
 published works on Chemistry, Natural Philoso- 
 phy, Practical Mechanics, and a Treatise on the 
 Steam-Engine, which are in use as College text- 
 books. To Sparks's series of American Biogra- 
 phies he contributed the Lives of Piittenhouse, 
 Robert Fulton, and Count Rumford; and to 
 Harpers' Family Library a Life of DeWitt Clin- 
 ton, whose " Character and Public Services" he 
 had made the subject of a discourse before the 
 Alumni of the College in 1829. 
 
 Dr. Henry J. Anderson received his appoint- 
 ment as Professor of Mathematics, Analytical 
 Mechanics, and Physical Astronomy, in 1825, and 
 resigned it in 1843. His highly trained scientific 
 culture did honor to the institution. In 1828 
 he contributed to the American Philosophical So- 
 ciety a paper on the Motion of Solids on Surfaces, 
 in the two Hypotheses of perfect sliding and per- 
 fect rolling, with a particular Examination of 
 their small oscillatory motions.* Since his re- 
 tirement from the College he has travelled in 
 Europe, and been attached to Lieut. Lynch's Ex- 
 ploring Expedition to the Dead Sea and the River 
 Jordan, as the geologist of the company. His 
 Geological Reconnoksance of part of the Holy 
 Land, made in April and May. 1848, including 
 the Regions of the Libanus, Northern Galilee, 
 the Valley of the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, has 
 been published by the Government. 
 
 Professor Henry Drisler, adjunct professor of 
 Greek and Latin, has been connected with the 
 College since 1843. His frequent association 
 with Dr. Anthon in the preparation of his edi- 
 tions of the classics appears from the introduc- 
 tions to those works, while his edition of the 
 Greek-English Lexicon of Liddell and Scott, 
 bearing date 1846, is an additional proof of the 
 fidelity of his scholarship. 
 
 The real estate owned by Columbia College is 
 
 valuable, though heretofore its income has not 
 greatly profited from this source. It consists of 
 the real estate in the third ward of the city now 
 occupied by the College, which is estimated at 
 
 Columbia College. 
 
 more than half a million of dollars; and of the 
 
 * Transactions Am. Philos. Soc. Hi., New Series, 1SS0, rp. 
 315-3S2. 
 
THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY: NEW YORK SOCIETY LIBRARY. 
 
 38T 
 
 property in the nineteenth ward, once occupied 
 as the Botanic Garden, which was granted to the 
 College by the Legislature in 1814. The latter, 
 now lying in the Fifth Avenue, includes twenty- 
 one acres, comprising two hundred and twenty- 
 five building lots, exclusive of the streets, and is 
 set down in round numbers at four hundred 
 thousand dollars in value. This has been hither- 
 to unproductive, but is now in process of grading 
 by the College, and will soon yield a large in- 
 come. In addition to this real estate the College 
 derives a rent of upwards of nineteen thousand 
 dollars from other property in the third ward, 
 under lease. The annual expenditures of the 
 College, for the last fifteen years, have been about 
 twenty-two thousand dollars; and the income 
 from students, who pay an annual fee of ninety 
 dollars each, about nine thousand dollars.* 
 
 THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY— THE NEW YORK SO- 
 CIETY LIBRARY. 
 
 The three oldest public library associations in the 
 country, disconnected with colleges, are the Li- 
 brary Company of Philadelphia, the Library So- 
 ciety of Charleston, S. C, and the New York So- 
 ciety Library. Of the first we have already spoken. 
 The second was founded in 1748 by an association 
 of seventeen young men, who in that year uni- 
 ted in raising a fund to "collect new pamphlets" 
 and magazines published in Great Britain. They 
 remitted ten pounds to England, and by the close 
 of the same year expanded their. plan to that of a 
 public library. In 1750 their numbers had in- 
 creased to one hundred and sixty. A charter 
 was obtained in 1755 ; a bequest of the valuable 
 library of John M'Kenzie, an eminent lawyer of 
 the city, received in 1771 ; and the vested fund, 
 exclusive of the amount expended in books, 
 amounted in 1778 to £20,000. On the fifteenth 
 of January, of the same year, the collection was 
 destroyed by fire, only 185 out of from five to six 
 thousand volumes being preserved, with about 
 two thirds of the M'Kenzie collection. As its 
 other property was greatly depreciated during 
 the war, but little remained of the institution at 
 the peace. In 1792 a new collection was com- 
 menced, which in 1808 amounted to 4,500, and 
 in 1851 to 20,000 volumes. A building, origi- 
 nally the Bank of South Carolina, was purchased 
 for the use of the institution in 1840. 
 
 The New York Society Library was chartered 
 in 1754. The foundation of the collection may, 
 however, be dated back, in advance of all other 
 American institutions of a similar kind, to the 
 commencement of the century, the Rev. John 
 Sharp, chaplain to the governor of the province, 
 the Earl of Bellamont, having in 1700 given a 
 number of volumes for the use of the public, 
 which were deposited in a room provided for the 
 purpose. Those of the collection which remain 
 are preserved in the library, and consist of pon- 
 derous tomes of theology, bearing the autograph 
 of the original donor. 
 
 Nothing more is known of the history of the 
 collection until twenty-nine years later, when the 
 Rev. Dr. Millington, rector of Newington, Eng- 
 land, bequeathed his library to the Society for 
 
 the Propagation of the Gospel, by whom it was 
 presented to the New York library. The entire 
 collection remained without further additions of 
 importance in the hands of the corporation, who 
 do not appear to have been good curators of the 
 books intrusted to them. 
 
 The establishment of King's College, 1754, 
 seems to have led a number of eminent citizens 
 ) to unite in an association to form a library " for 
 j the use and ornament of the city, and the advan- 
 tage of our intended college." Funds were col- 
 I lected, and a number of books purchased, which 
 ; were placed in the same room witli those already 
 in the possession of the city. In 1772 a charter 
 ! was obtained, and the institution assumed the 
 title it has since borne of " The New York Society 
 Library." In 1774 the records of the society 
 were broken off, and not resumed until fourteen 
 years after. During the occupation of the city 
 by the British the soldiery were in the habit, in 
 the words of a venerable citizen, who remem- 
 bered the circumstance, of "carrying off books 
 in their knapsacks, which they sold for grog."* 
 Little or nothing is said to have been left of the 
 collection at the peace but the folios, which either 
 proved too bulky for the knapsacks or too heavy 
 for the backs of the pilferers, or were perhaps too 
 dry for exchange for fluids on any terms what- 
 ever. In December, 1788, the shareholders at 
 last bestirred themselves, issued a call, came to- 
 gether, elected officers, and in the next year ob- 
 tained a renewal of their charter. 
 
 The room in the old city hall, on the site of 
 the present custom-house at the corner of Wall 
 and Nassau streets, being found too small for the 
 convenient accommodation of the collection, ad- 
 ditional subscribers were obtained, and a spacious 
 and elegant building erected for its exclusive ac- 
 commodation in Nassau street, opposite the Mid- 
 dle Dutch church, now the post-office, to which 
 it was removed in 1795. 
 
 In 1836 the rapid growth of the city, and the 
 entire abandonment of its lower portion to mer- 
 cantile purposes, rendered a removal of the li- 
 brary desirable. The building was sold, and a 
 new edifice erected at the corner of Broadway and 
 Leonard streets. In 1853 another removal was 
 deemed advisable. The building was sold to the 
 Messrs. Appleton, by whom the lower floor was 
 converted into the finest and largest retail book- 
 store in the United States, and probably in the 
 world, thus preserving in a measure the literary 
 associations of the locality. The library was re- 
 moved to apartments in "the Bible-House, which 
 it still occupies. Laud has been purchased at the 
 corner of Thirteenth street and University place 
 for a new edifice, which has not yet been com- 
 menced. 
 
 A catalogue of the library was printed before 
 the Revolution, but no copies have been pre- 
 served, nor is the extent of the collection at that 
 time known. A catalogue was printed in 1793, 
 when the library contained five thousand vo- 
 lumes. The collection increased to thirteen thou- 
 sand in 1813, to twenty-five thousand in 1838. 
 The last catalogue, published in 1S50, states the 
 
 * Report of Committee of the Senate, March 10, 1S55. 
 
 * Reminiscences of New York, by John Pintard, published 
 in the New York Mirror. 
 
3S8 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 number of volumes at that time to be thirty- 
 five thousand. The number is now forty thou- 
 sand. 
 
 The original price of shares was fixed at five 
 pounds, the shares being perpetual, but subject 
 to an annual payment of ten shillings. The 
 present price is twenty-five, with an annual 
 payment of six dollars. The number of mem- 
 bers in 1793 was nine hundred, it is now one 
 thousand. 
 
 The proprietors elect annually fifteen of their 
 number as trustees, to whom the entire charge 
 of the affairs of the corporation is intrusted. 
 
 John Forbes filled the office of librarian from 
 1794 to 1824. He was succeeded by his son, the 
 present librarian, Philip J. Forbes, to whom the 
 institution is under obligations for his long ser- 
 vices as a faithful curator of its possessions, and a 
 judicious co-operator with the trustees for their 
 increase. 
 
 The collection includes valuable files of the 
 newspapers and periodical publications of the pre- 
 sent century, and good editions of classic writers 
 of every language. In 1812 the society received 
 a valuable donation from Francis B. Winthrop, 
 Esq., of a collection of early theological and sci- 
 entific works, mostly in the Latin language, col- 
 lected by his ancestor John "Winthrop, the first 
 governor of Connecticut. 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA. 
 Tins institution is an illustration of the growth 
 and development of liberal education in the city 
 of Philadelphia. It had its origin mainly in the 
 efforts of Franklin, by whose exertions the 
 Academy of Philadelphia was organized, and went 
 into operation in 1750. A public school had been 
 established in 1689 by the Society of Friends, at 
 which Latin and mathematics were taught, and of 
 which George Keith was the first teacher. In 
 1743 Franklin, sensitive to the wants of the 
 times, communicated the plan of an Academy, as 
 he states in his autobiography, to the Rev. Rich- 
 ard Peters, which he revived in 1749 in conjunc- 
 tion with Thomas Hopkinson and others, when 
 he issued his pamphlet entitled " Proposals rela- 
 tive to the Education of Youth in Pennsylvania," 
 the publication of which he tells us, in his politic 
 way, he took care to represent, in his introduc- 
 tion, " not as an act of mine, but of some public- 
 spirited gentleman, avoiding as much as I could, 
 according to my usual rule, the presenting myself 
 to the public as the author of any scheme for 
 their benefit." A body of trustees was formed, 
 including the most influential men of the city, 
 among whom were Franklin himself, James Logan, 
 Thomas Hopkinson, Richard Peters, Jacob Duche, 
 Philip Syng, Charles "Willing, and others, " men 
 of character and standing and learning; orwhere, 
 as with the greatest of them, mere scholarship 
 was wanting, of masculine intelligence, and pure, 
 vigorous American mother wit;" while "the 
 master spirit then, as the master spirit in every 
 effort to do public good, from the hour when he 
 landed penniless at Market-street wharf, till the 
 distant day when, at the end of almost a century, 
 he was carried amidst mourning crowds and toll- 
 ing bells to his modest and almost forgotten grave, 
 was Benjamin Franklin. His mind conceived and 
 
 his energy achieved the first Philadelphia college."* 
 Franklin has himself told the story of his adroitness 
 in taking advantage of the arrival of Whitefield to 
 secure a permanent location for the school. A 
 building was erected to provide accommodation 
 for travelling preachers under similar circum- 
 stances with the great Methodist, and was placed 
 under the control of members of the several de- 
 nominations. One of them was a Moravian, who 
 had not given satisfaction to his colleagues ; and 
 on his death it was resolved to leave that sect out, 
 and as there was no religious variety to draw 
 from, Franklin secured his election on the ground 
 of being of no sect at all. Having thus attained 
 a position in both boards, he effected a junction 
 of the school and the meeting-house in the same 
 building, and to this day, in the present halt- of 
 the University, accommodation is afforded, if 
 called for by itinerant preaehers.t In 1751 the 
 academy opened in the new building with masters 
 in Latin, English, and mathematics. Charles 
 Thomson, the future Secretary of Congress, was 
 during four years a tutor in the school. In 1753 
 a charter was obtained for " the Trustees of the 
 Academy and Charitable School in the Province 
 of Pennsylvania." Logic, rhetoric, natural and 
 moral philosophy were added to the instructions, 
 and the Rev. William Smith, then full of youth- 
 ful ardor in the cause of education, was employed 
 to teach them. An additional charter in 1755 
 conferred the power of granting degrees, and in- 
 stituted a faculty with the title of "The Provost, 
 Yice-Provo s t, and Professors of the College and 
 Academy of Philadelphia, in the province of 
 Pennsylvania." By this act the Rev. William 
 Smith was appointed the first Provost, and the 
 Rev. Francis Alison Vice-Provost. Both, by 
 disposition, education, and experience, were well 
 fitted for the calling, 
 
 William Smith. 
 
 William Smith was born in Scotland, and was 
 a graduate of the University of Aberdeen in 
 1747. After his arrival in this country he was 
 for more than two years tutor in the family of 
 
 * Address before the Alumni of the University of Pennsyl- 
 vania, by William B. Heed, Nov. 10, 1849. 
 
 + History of the Univ. Pa., by Geo. B. Wood, M.D. Me- 
 moirs Hist. Soc. Pa. iii. 179, a source from which our sketch 
 of the College is mostly derived. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 389 
 
 Col. Martin of Long Island. During this time Up 
 revisited England and was ordained to the 
 ministry. 
 
 He early gave his attention to the subject of 
 education, for in 1753,* when King's College was 
 about being organized in New York, he drew up 
 and published an ingenious essay entitled A 
 General I lea of the College of Mirania, addressed 
 "to the Trustees by law appointed for receiving 
 proposals relating to the establishment of a Col- 
 lege in New York." He visited England, and 
 received his ordination there in 1753. 
 
 Before the College charter was obtained in 
 Philadelphia he was placed at the head of the 
 Academy, May 25, 1754, and was, as we have 
 seen, constituted the first Provost of the College. 
 In the published collection of his Discourses there 
 is a sermon from his pen preached in Christ 
 Church, Philadelphia, Sept. 1, 1754, on the death 
 of a pupil of the Senior Philosophy Class, Wil- 
 liam Thomas Martin, which is accompanied by 
 verses written by Francis Hopkinson, Samuel 
 Magaw, Jacob Duehe, and Paul Jackson who 
 became a classical tutor in the College, who were 
 among the first graduates in the year 1757. 
 Other discourses and addresses at various inter- 
 vals show Dr. Smith to have been a man of sci- 
 ence, of literature, of patriotism, and of Christian 
 devotion. O.ie of the earliest of his writings was 
 A Philosophical Meditation and Religious Ad- 
 dress to the Supreme Being, which was intended 
 for the use of young students in philosophy, and 
 published in London in 175-t, in a volume with a 
 treatise on Ethics by the Rev. Dr. Johnson, the 
 first President of King's College. From October, 
 1757, to October, 1758, he published a series of 
 eight essays in the American Magazine at Phila- 
 delphia, with the title of The Hermit. They 
 exhibit a warmth of feeling and a taste for letters 
 ready to ripen into the pursuits of the scholar 
 and divine. In 1758 he wrote an Earnest Address 
 to the Colonies stimulating the country for its 
 defence against the French. He preached also 
 several sermons on occasion of that war and on 
 the opening of the Revolution a military discourse, 
 June 23, 1775, in which he assisted the American 
 cause. He also delivered an oration in memory 
 of General Montgomery, at the request of Con- 
 gress, in 1776. This was an eloquent production, 
 as was also his Eulogiuin on Benjamin Franklin 
 pronounced before the American Philosophical 
 Society, March 1, 17111. t 
 
 The Rev. Francis Alison, who filled the office 
 of Vice-Provost the corresponding period with 
 the Provost-ship of Dr. Smith, was born in Ire- 
 land in 1705, was educated at the University of 
 Glasgow, and reaching America in 1735, was ap- 
 pointed to the charge of a Presbyterian Church 
 
 * This is the date also given to a Poem by the Rev. Mr. 
 Smith, 0:1 visiting the Academy of Philadelphia; printed in 
 folio, aud of nearly three huudred lines. It is mentioned by 
 Fisher in his account of the early poets of Pennsylvania, who 
 also speaks of the Provost's habit of " inciting and encouraging 
 every boyish attempt at rhyme in the College; so that every 
 coinmeucemont or exhibition, every occasion of general re- 
 joicing or grief, was an opportunity for the public pronuncia- 
 tion of dialogues, odes, or elegies, some of which possess great 
 beauty and animation, and are far above the ordinary capacity 
 of Collegians." 
 
 t These were published in the posthumous edition of his 
 Works in Philadelphia in two volumes in 1808. Thero were 
 two London editions of his Discourses in the author's life- 
 time, in 1759 aud 1702. 
 
 at New London, in Chester county, Pennsylvania. 
 There he opened a school, and had for Ids pupils 
 several youths who afterwards became distin- 
 guished. He was first Rector and then Master 
 of the Latin School at Philadelphia. He then 
 became first Vice-Provost of the College in 1755, 
 and held the office at his death in 1777. Besides 
 these engagements Dr. Alison was colleague in 
 the ministry of the First Presbyterian Church 
 with Dr. Ewing. 
 
 Provost Smith made two visits to England 
 while in charge of the college. On one of these, 
 in 175'..), undertaken we are told " to escape the 
 resentment of the Pennsylvania legislature,"* 
 with which he had become at odds by his sympa- 
 thies with the proprietors, he received the title of 
 Doctor of Divinity from the University of Oxford ; 
 and in 1762 he was united with James Jay of 
 Now York in solicitation for funds which were 
 divided between the colleges in New York and 
 Philadelphia; the latter receiving the sum of six 
 thousand pounds sterling. The College had been 
 sustained by numerous donations, legacies, and 
 gifts, which its benevolent feature of a charity 
 school facilitated. 
 
 The College rapidly grew into fame under 
 Smith's administration; the aggregate of stu- 
 dents was large, and the number from other pro- 
 vinces and the West Indies became so considera- 
 ble that a special building, in 1762, was erected 
 for their accommodation, the trustees readily rais- 
 ing the funds by a lottery. 
 
 From 1753 to 1773, in this ante-revolutionary 
 period, the studies in oratory and English litera- 
 ture were directed by the Rev. Ebenezer Kinners- 
 ley, who attained separate distinction by his share 
 in the electrical experiments of Franklin. He 
 exhibited the phenomena of electricity in public 
 lectures through the Colonies, and visited the 
 West Indies. His apparatus was bought by the 
 College after his decease. The Medical School 
 which has become of such high distinction, dates 
 from the appointment of Dr. Morgan in 1765 
 as professor of the theory and practice of physic. 
 Dr. William Shippen's chair of anatomy and sur- 
 gery was created the same year, and the appoint- 
 ments of Dr. Kuhn, Professor of Botany and 
 Materia Medica, and of Dr. Benjamin Rush of 
 Chemistry, followed. In 1767, the Medical 
 School, wbich has since attained such high dis- 
 tinction, was regularly organized, and the next 
 year degrees were conferred. 
 
 At a later period in Smith's career difficulties 
 grew up between the trustees and the legislature 
 representing the popular interest. The Provost 
 had been attached to the proprietors in the politi- 
 cal agitations of the times, and it was charged, 
 though apparently without reason, that it was 
 the design of the trustees, some of whom were 
 represented to be of monarchical inclination, to 
 defeat the original liberal object of the charter, 
 by making a Church of England institution of the 
 College. Tiiis prejudice or hostility took shape 
 in 1779 in an act of the Legislature which an- 
 nulled the charter of the College, took away the 
 funds, and created a new institution, with libe- 
 
 * Wood's History", p. 1S9. At one time ho was placed under 
 I arrest, and bis classes attended him at his place of confiuo- 
 meut. 
 
390 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 ral grants out of the confiscated estates of 
 the royalists, entitled the University of Penn- 
 sylvania. The old offices were pronounced va- 
 cant in this act, and a new body of trustees 
 appointed. This act produced the usual excite- 
 ment of a proceeding necessarily of a violent 
 revolutionary character, and it was resisted by 
 Dr. Smith and his friends, who procured a law in 
 1789 reinstating the College trustees and faculty in 
 their ancient estates and privileges. The meet- 
 ings for the reorganization of the College were 
 held at the house of Dr. Franklin. Dr. Smith 
 became again Provost, and the medical faculty 
 was strengthened by the addition of Dr. Wistar 
 in Chemistry and the Institutes of Medicine, and 
 Barton in Botany and Natural History. In 1791 
 the old institution finally succumbed, and an act 
 of the Legislature was passed blending the two 
 bodies in the University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Dr. Smith at this time permanently retired from 
 the institution, his age and the old difficulties pre- 
 venting his reappointment. He carried with him 
 the respect of the public and an acknowledgment 
 of his usefulness in an annuity of one hundred 
 pounds for life. He died in 1803, leaving a col- 
 lection of his writings ready for posthumous pub- 
 lication. 
 
 In the charter of the University in 1779 
 the Rev. Dr. John Ewing was created Pro- 
 vost. He was born the son of a farmer in East 
 Nottingham, Maryland, June 22, 1732, and re- 
 ceived his classical education at the school of 
 Francis Alison. He was a graduate of the Col- 
 lege at Princeton in 1752, where he was received 
 as a student of the senior class. He studied theo- 
 logy; and in 1758, when Dr. Smith left the Col- 
 lege of Philadelphia on his visit to Europe, took 
 his place as instructor of the philosophical classes. 
 In 1759 he was called to the ministry of the First 
 Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, which he 
 filled during the remainder of his life. In 1773 
 he visited England to collect funds for the Aca- 
 demy at Newark, in Delaware, and while there 
 had the opportunity of the acquaintance of Dr. 
 Robertson, an interview with Dr. Johnson, in 
 which he overcame the disinclination of that 
 leviathan to a republican from America, and 
 
 meeting Lord North frankly acquainted him with 
 the probable and, as it turned out, prophetic, issue 
 of a contest between England and this country. 
 He received his degree of Doctor of Divinity 
 from the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 In 1777 Dr. Ewing removed from the scenes 
 of the Revolution in Philadelphia to Maryland, 
 and on his return became Provost of the Univer- 
 sity in 1779. He was eminent as a man of sci- 
 ence, and filled the chair of Vice-President of the 
 Philosophical Society. His College lectures on 
 Natural Philosophy were published in 1809.* 
 
 During a portion of his College course from 1779 
 to 1782 the office of Vice-Provost was held by- 
 David Rittenhouse. Ewing's accomplishments 
 are highly spoken of. He was eminent as a 
 mathematician and in the various branches of 
 Natural Philosophy, and profound in metaphysi- 
 cal and classical studies. 
 
 The incumbents of the office of Provost since 
 this period have been Dr. John McDowell, from 
 1806 to 1810; Dr. John Andrews, who had held 
 the Chair of Moral Philosophy since 1789, for 
 the next three } 7 ears ; Dr. Frederick Beasley from 
 1813 to 1828; the present Bishop William H. 
 Delancey from 1828 till 1834; when Dr. John 
 Ludlow succeeded, who was followed by Dr. 
 Henry Vetbake, the present incumbent. He was 
 first connected with the College as Vice-Provost, 
 and was formerly for a short period a lecturer in 
 Columbia College, New York. In 1838, he pub- 
 lished in Philadelphia his Principles of Political 
 Economy, and in 1847 edited the supplementary 
 fourteenth volume of the Encyclopaedia Ameri- 
 cana. 
 
 Dr. John McDowell, before his appointment to 
 the Provostship, occupied the position of Princi- 
 pal of St. John's College in Maryland. 
 
 Dr. John Andrews, born in Maryland in 1746, 
 was educated at the Academy at Philadelphia, 
 and was a graduate of the College in 1765 in the 
 same class with Bishop White. He was ordained 
 by the Bishop of London in 1767, and became a 
 
 * Art. by Robert Walsh, Am. Biog., Am. Quar. P.ev. No. 1. 
 History of First Presbyterian Church by the Eev. Albert 
 Barnes, Am. Quar. Eeg. xiii. 808. 
 
JOEL BAKLOW. 
 
 391 
 
 Missionary of the Society for the propagation of 
 the gospel in foreign parts. He was afterwards 
 rector at Queen Ann's county, Maryland. His 
 political sentiments were with the loyalists, and 
 he removed from his parish to Yorktown, where 
 he kept a school. In 1785 he took charge of a 
 new Episcopal Academy in Philadelphia, and in 
 1791 was made Vice-Provost of the College. In 
 December, 1810, he succeeded Dr. McDow- 
 ell as Provost. He withdrew from the office in 
 1813 in ill health, and died in that year at the age 
 of sixty-seven.* 
 
 The Rev. Frederick Beasley, a presbyter of the 
 Protestant Episcopal Church, was Professor of 
 Moral Philosophy in the University from 1813 to 
 1828, and is favorably known for his metaphysi- 
 cal work in defence of the philosophy of Locke, 
 which he published in 1822, entitled "A Search 
 of Truth in the Science of the Human Mind." 
 He lived many years after his retirement, dying 
 at Elizabethtown, N. J., at the age of sixty-eight, 
 in 1845. 
 
 The present University Buildings in Ninth 
 street, originally erected for the accommodation 
 of Congress, were in 1800 purchased by the Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 The general course of instruction is embraced 
 in the Faculties of Arts and of Medicine, while 
 the original distinctive features of the College,' 
 the Academy or Grammar-school, and the Charity 
 schools, are severally maintained under the orga- 
 nization. 
 
 JOEL BAELOW. 
 Joel Baklow, whose career presents a greater 
 variety of circumstances than the history of any 
 of his fellow litterateurs in the early records of 
 America, was born the son of a respectable 
 farmer, and the youngest of a family of ten 
 children, at Reading, in Connecticut, in the year 
 1755. His father died while he was at school, 
 leaving the son means sufficient to acquire a col- 
 lege education. In 177-i, he was sent to Dart- 
 mouth, and thence removed to Yale, where he 
 found Dwight, who had been installed tutor three 
 years before, ami with whom he shared both his 
 patriotism and his poetry. During the vacations 
 of the college, Barlow was off handling a musket 
 with the militia in the opening scenes of the Revo- 
 lution, being present, it is said, and lighting brave- 
 ly, in the action at White Piains. His poetic first 
 appearance was made on Commencement day, 
 when he took his degree, in 1778, and delivered 
 a poem, The Prospect of Peace, which was pub- 
 lished the same year in New Haven, and which 
 reappeared, with another poem spoken at the 
 college three years afterwards on taking his degree 
 of Master of Arts, in the Litchfield collection of 
 " American Poems " by Elilm II. Smith, in 1793. 
 In 1780, he published an elegy on his friend, the 
 accomplished statesman of Connecticut, Titus 
 Hosmer.t In these early productions, we notice 
 
 * Wood's Historical Discourse. Sabine's Loyalists. 
 
 t Titus Hosmer, the friend of Barlow, was a lawyer and 
 patriot of great distinction in Connecticut, whose education 
 and manners procured him great respect and affection. David 
 D. Field, in his Middietown Historical Address, has given a 
 notice of his career: '-Noah Webster numbered him among 
 the three 'mighties:' and these three he designated as William 
 Samuel Johnson, LL.D., of Stratford, Oliver Ellsworth of 
 
 a certain breadth of philanthropy, and extension 
 of the local limits of American patriotism, which 
 the author, in after life, was destined to display 
 on an ampler field. It is curious to note at this 
 time, in advance of the dreams of the French 
 Revolution, the universal claims of humanity en- 
 gaging his attention. He was even then an enthu- 
 siastic visionary looking for an early Millennium. 
 Ho already saw the advancing conquests of 
 America — 
 
 What wide extent her waving ensigns elnim, 
 Lands yet unknown and streams without a name. 
 
 And celebrated the coming population of Europe. 
 
 On this broad theatre unbounded spread, 
 In different scenes, what countless throngs must 
 
 tread ! 
 Soon as the new-form' d empire, rising fair, 
 Calms her brave sons now breathing from the war, 
 Unfolds her harbors, spreads the genial soil, 
 And welcomes freemen to the cheerful toil. 
 
 With war and discord around him, he sang the 
 universality of peace and union ; nations growing 
 fraternal under the general impulse — 
 
 Till each remotest realm, by friendship join'd, 
 Link in the chain and harmonize mankind, 
 The umou'd banner be at last unfurl'd, 
 And wave triumphant round the accordant world. 
 
 From college Barlow went to the study of law, 
 but the Massachusetts line wanting chaplains, he 
 turned to divinity, and putting himself through a 
 diligent six weeks course of theology, was duly 
 licensed a Congregational minister, and joined the 
 army as Dwight had done before him ; and like 
 Dwight, he cheered the spirits of the soldiery 
 with animating odes from the camp. He remain- 
 ed in the army during the war, meditating and 
 composing his Vision of Columbus, which was a 
 well written poem for the times; some of the 
 difficulties of which, to the scholar, may be esti- 
 mated from Barlow's statement that he had long 
 sought in vain in the country for a copy of Ca- 
 moens' Lusiad, and had not been able to obtain it 
 till his poem was ready for the press. The Vision 
 was published by subscription in 1787, and was 
 reprinted in London and in Paris. The dedication 
 to the first edition was to Louis XVI., in a strain 
 of superfluous eulogy and humility.* 
 
 Windsor, Chief Justice of the United States, and the Hon. 
 Titus Hosmer of Middietown." The general Congress had 
 just conferred the appointment of Judge of a Court of Appeals 
 upon Hosmer, when he died suddenly, August 4, 1780, at the 
 age of forty-four. Barlow, who was encouraged by Hosmer to 
 write his Vision of Columbus, speaks of his orphaned muse on 
 this event: — 
 
 At thy command she first assumed the lyTe, 
 And hop'd a future laurel from thy name. 
 
 How did thy smiles awake her infant song! 
 
 How did thy virtues animate the lay ! 
 Still shall thy fate the dying strain prolong, 
 
 And bear her voice with thy lost form away. 
 
 * If all that he says of the Bourbons is true, the French 
 Revolution ought never to have occurred. ''The illustrious 
 lino of your royal ancestors have been conspicuous in seizing 
 those advantages (proceeding from the discovery of America) 
 and diffusing their happy effects. The great Father of the 
 House of Bourbon will be held in the highest veneration til! 
 his favorite political system shall be realized among the nations 
 of Europe and extended to all mankind. * * Your Majesty's 
 permission, that the unfortunate Columbus may once more 
 enjoy the protection of a royal benefactor, has added a new 
 obligation to those 1 before felt — in common with a grateful 
 country." 
 
392 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 At the close of the struggle he left the church 
 and army together, and returned to the law, 
 settling at Hartford, and engaging in a weekly 
 newspaper, The American Mercury. He was 
 admitted to the bar in 1785, in which year he 
 was also employed by the " General Association " 
 of Connecticut, in the adaptation of Watts's 
 version of the Psalms,* the same task which was 
 subsequently performed by the more orthodox 
 hand of his friend Timothy Dwight. The work 
 was received with satisfaction, and used in the 
 churches by authority. Barlow's additions con- 
 sisted in versions of twelve of the Psalms which 
 Watts had omitted,t and several others were 
 altered by him.J One from his pen was much 
 admired ; this version of Psalm cxxxviii.: — 
 
 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY. 
 
 Along the banks where Babel's current flows 
 Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd, 
 
 While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose, 
 
 Her friends, her children mingled with the dead. 
 
 The tuneless harp that once with joy we strung, 
 When praise employ'd and mirth inspir'd the lay, 
 
 In mournful silence on the willows hung ; 
 
 And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day. 
 
 The barbarous tyrants, to increase the woe, 
 With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim; 
 
 Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow, 
 
 While the3 T blaspheme the great Jehovah's name. 
 
 But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown 
 Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise ? 
 
 * Doctor Watts's Imitation of the Psalms of David, corrected 
 and enlarged, l/y Joel Barlow, to xchich is added a Collection 
 of Hymns ; the whole applied to tlie state of the Christian 
 Church in General. Luke xxtv. — All things must be fulfilled 
 which were written in the . . . Psalins concerning us. Hart 
 ford. Printed by Barlow & Babcock, 17S5. 
 
 t They are tlie 2Sth. 43d, 520, 54th, 59th, 64th, TOtb, 79th, 
 SSth, lifitb, 137th, and 140th. 
 
 X A story is told of an effusion in verse on Barlow the versi- 
 fier of Watts, perpetrated by a local poet of reputation for a 
 knack at extempore rhyming. This personage was Oliver, a 
 cousin of Benedict Arnold, and is commemorated in a History 
 of Norwich, Connecticut, by Miss F. M. Caulkins (1845), where 
 the following is narrated : — " in a booksellers shop in New 
 Haven, he was introduced to Joel Barlow, who had just then 
 acquired considerable notoriety by the publication of an altered 
 edition of Watts a Psalms and Hymns. Barlow asked lor a 
 specimen of his talent; upon which the wandering poet im- 
 mediately repeated the following stanza: — 
 
 You've proved yourself a sinful cre'tur'; 
 You've murdered Watts, and spoilt the metre ; 
 You've tried the Word ol God to alter, 
 And for your pains deserve a halter. 
 
 Oliver was also a sailor and a patriot, and cordially despised 
 the course taken by his cousin Benedict, in betraying his 
 country. Local tradition ascribes to him the following acrostic 
 on the traitors name, and it is even added that being on a visit 
 to his cousin after the war. and called upon by hitn to amuse a 
 
 E arty of English officers with some extemporaneous effusion, 
 e stood up and repeated this Ernulphus curse, which would 
 have satisfied Dr. Slop himself. The composition itself, how- 
 ever, contradicts such a report, as it bears no resemblance 
 to other short and unstudied efforts of the native rhymester, 
 which have been preserved. 
 
 Born for a curse to virtue and mankind. 
 Earth's broadest realm ne'er knew so black a mind. 
 Night's sable veil your crimes can never hide, 
 Each one so great, 'twould glut historic tide. 
 Defunct, your cursed memory will live, 
 Iu all the glare that infamy can give. 
 Curses of ages will attend your name, 
 Traitors alone will glory in your shame. 
 
 Almighty vengeance sternly waits to roll 
 Rivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul — 
 Nature looks shuddering back, with conscious dread. 
 On such a tarnished blot as she has made. 
 Let hell receive you, riveted in chains, 
 Doomed to the hottest focus of its flames. 
 
 hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne. 
 Thou land of glorj-, sacred mount of Praise. 
 
 If e'er my memory lose thy lovely name, 
 If my cold heart neglect my kindred race, 
 
 Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame; 
 ily hand shall perish and my voice shall cease. 
 
 Yet shall the Lord, who hears when Zion calls, 
 O'ertake her foes with terrour and dismay, 
 
 His arm avenge her desolated walls, 
 And raise her children to eternal day. 
 
 To dispose of the literary wares which he had 
 now on hand, the Psalm Book and the Vision, 
 Barlow, who appears with no lack of personal 
 liberality to have been always of a mercantile, 
 speculating turn, opened a book-store at Hartford, 
 which he closed when he had accomplished his 
 purpose, and began the practice of the law. He 
 was at this time associated with Trumbull, 
 Humphreys, and Hopkins, in penning the patriotic 
 effusions of the Anarchiad. In 1787, he delivered 
 an oration on the 4th July at Hartford, in which 
 he urged the adoption of a general government. 
 The law does not appear to have suited his dis- 
 position and temperament ; he is described as too 
 stiff and unyielding for its requirements ; so that 
 when a Land Company was formed, called " The 
 Scioto Company," Barlow accepted a part in its 
 management, and was sent as agent to England 
 in 1788, to dispose of the property. The title to 
 the lands was stolen, and the company were 
 swindlers, but Barlow was unconscious of the 
 skilfully concealed deception. When he found it 
 out he resigned. 
 
 ^y/l*> /' 
 
 ^ 
 
 <^>' 
 
 This foreign journey brought him in contact 
 with the Girondins in Paris, into whose political 
 prospects he warmly entered. His own personal 
 affairs were probably somewhat uncertain. 
 Trumbull, writing to Oliver Wolcott, Dec. 9, 
 1789, says of their friend: "I cannot conceive 
 what Barlow is doing. After being eighteen 
 months abroad, you tell me he has got so far as 
 to see favourable prospects. If he should not 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 393 
 
 effect something soon, I would advise him to 
 write ' The Visions of Barlow,' as a sequel to 
 those of Columbus and McFingal."* On re- 
 visiting London from Paris, in 1791, Barlow pub- 
 lished, at the end of the year, the first part of his 
 Ado ice to the Privileged Orders, and in the Feb- 
 ruary following, a poem, The Conspiracy of Kings, 
 on the alliance against France. These are both 
 vigorous productions. In the first he considers 
 the state of Europe under the five heads of the 
 Feudal system, — the Church, the Military, the 
 Administration of Justice, and Revenue, and 
 Public Expenditure, supporting each topic with 
 great vehemence of statement. 
 
 The poem, with a stirring preface at the be- 
 ginning and uncompromising note at the end, was 
 mainly levelled at Mr. Burke, who is solemnly 
 arraigned as almost exclusively the author of the 
 war with all its train of calamities. This piec3 
 of prose is clear, vigorous, and sonorous, with 
 many of the most striking qualities of expression. 
 If Barlow hail given the same attention to com- 
 position in this department which he bestowed 
 
 ' upon his verses, his reputation would have been 
 greater. He denounces the transfer of Burke 
 from the side of liberty to kingcraft in unmea- 
 sured terms. " Here," says he, " is a man who 
 calls himself a philosopher, not remarkable for his 
 avarice, the delight and ornament of a numerous 
 society of valuable friends, respected by all en- 
 lightened men as a friend of peace and preacher 
 of humanity, living in an age when military 
 
 ■ madness has lost its charms, and men begin to 
 unite in searching the means of avoiding the hor- 
 rors of war; this man, wearied with the happi- 
 ness that surrounds him, and disgusted at the 
 glory that awaits him, renounces all his friends, 
 belies the doctrines of his former life, bewails that 
 the military savageness of the fourteenth century 
 ha* passed away, and, to gratify his barbarous 
 wishes to call it hack, conjures up a war, in which 
 at least two millions of his fellow-creatures must 
 be sacrificed to his unaccountable passion." His 
 verse is hardly equal to this in force, but the 
 reader may be interested in a portrait drawn 
 nearly twenty years after Goldsmith had pencil- 
 led his mild sketch of his friend who 
 
 To party gave up what was meant for mankind. 
 
 But Burke's prophecies were at least as philoso- 
 phical as Barlow's : both had their credulities, and 
 time, which amendeth all things, will correct 
 many errata in their writings. It was Barlow's 
 misfortune to be carried away by French theory*, 
 and set too little value on the sterling though 
 more slowly moving facts of England and 
 America. He confounded the abstract truths of 
 morality with their practical applications among 
 men as exhibited in society. Morals are one 
 thing, men quite another. When he says that 
 " Many truths are as perceptible when first pre- 
 sented to the mind, as an age or a world of expe- 
 rience could make them ; others require only an 
 indirect and collateral experience ; some demand 
 an experience direct and positive ;" and that " it 
 is happy for human nature, that in morals we 
 have much to do with this first class of truths, 
 less with the second, and very little with the 
 
 * Gibbs'a Oliver Wolcott, i. 25. 
 
 third ; while in physics we are perpetually driven 
 to the slow process of patient and positive 
 experience ;" — it may be all very true of moral 
 philosophy as a science, but the remark is value- 
 less as respects the conduct of men in political 
 government — which is of much slower growth, 
 and more painful development than even the 
 tedious facts of physics. A year or two later, 
 when Barlow was preparing for a History of the 
 French Revolution, which he never wrote, he 
 commends to Wolcott the example of that great 
 effort for American imitation. " I do not mean," 
 says he, " that a revolution, or anything like it, 
 will be necessary with us, but that many prin- 
 ciples for the general diffusion of information, the 
 preservation and improvement of morals, and the 
 encouragement of such a degree of equality in 
 the condition of men as tends to their dignity and 
 happiness, will certainly be established by them, 
 and will he equally necessary for us." In French 
 politics Barlow was a visionary, but he shared 
 his enthusiasm with many sober-minded men. 
 
 In 1791, the French philosopher Volney's 
 Ruins or Reflections on the Revolutions of Em- 
 pires was published in Paris, and a translation 
 from Barlow's pen appeared the next year in 
 London. 
 
 Barlow's Letter to the National Convention of 
 France, offering some suggestions in constitution- 
 making, is dated London, Sept. 16 1792. He was 
 then associated with the reformers in England, a 
 member of the Constitutional Society, which 
 body delegated him to carry an address to the 
 Convention, which in turn conferred upon him 
 the honor of French citizenship. It is in these 
 relations that a story is told of a supper at which 
 Barlow was present. The famous song attribut- 
 ed to his pen, in eulogy of the Guillotine, which 
 was afterwards revived to his disadvantage on 
 his return to New England, when he fell among 
 the Federalists, was originally written, it is said, 
 for the amusement of some of his revolutionary 
 friends at Hamburgh, assembled after the execu- 
 tion of Louis XVI. It was a parody on the 
 English national anthem, " God save the king," 
 and ran — 
 
 A BOXG. 
 
 tune — u God save the Guillotine. " 
 Fame let thy trumpet sound, 
 Tell all the world around — 
 
 How Capet full : 
 And when great George's poll 
 Shall in the basket roll, 
 Let mercy then control 
 
 The Guillotine. 
 
 When all the sceptred crew 
 Have paid their homage to 
 
 The Guillotine ; 
 Let freedom's flag advance, 
 Till all the world, like France ! 
 O'er tyrants' graves shall dance, 
 
 And peace begin.* 
 
 * Biographlo tTniverselle, Art, Barlow. Ilildrcth. Second Sc- 
 ries, ii. 551. The sons, with the comments to which Ilildreth 
 alludes, will be found in the Columlian CenUnd, Nov. 1G, 1SC5. 
 
 A somewhat similar effusion to this has been attributed to 
 Akenside, the poet, as an ode written for the Calf Head Club, 
 on theSoth January, the anniversary of the beheading of King 
 Charles I. Freneau prints it in his Jersey Chronicle, pajro 
 33S A calf's head, it is stated, was brought in with a crown 
 of pastry after dinner, with daggers or sharp-pointed knives 
 
334: 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In December, 1T92, he was with the Abbe j 
 Gregoire and a deputation sent to organize the 
 territory of Savoy, whence, from its capital, lie 
 dated A Letter Addressed to the People of Pied- ] 
 mont, on the advantages of the French Revolu- 
 tion, and the necessity of adopting its principles \ 
 in Italy ; a revolutionary proceeding which he 
 varied by the composition of his pleasant Ameri- 
 can dietetic lay, The Hasty Pudding. 
 
 The original American edition of this poem was 
 printed at New Haven in 1796. An advertise- 
 ment dated April of that year sets forth its " re- 
 publican virtue recommended with republican 
 freedom and boldness," and the design expressed 
 in its preface for which " it ought to be owned 
 and studied by every family in New England." 
 The reprint which follows this article preserves 
 the original title and preface, with several pas- 
 sages omitted in later editions.* 
 
 By this time bis pecuniary prospects were im- 
 proving. His position and knowledge of affairs 
 gave him the advantage in the midst of the 
 changing fortunes of the Revolution. In 1795 
 he was employed as a private legal or commercial 
 agent to the north of Europe, and in the same 
 year was appointed consul at Algiers for the pur- 
 pose of negotiating a treaty with the Barbary 
 powers, which he effected with many brave and 
 successful exertions in behalf of the prisoners con- 
 fined there. On returning to Paris he made a 
 fortune in some commercial speculations, and 
 purchased the hotel of the Count Clermont de 
 Tonnerre, where he lived in sumptuous style. 
 During his French residence, the administration 
 of Adams brought Barlow out in opposition to 
 the government at home, in two Letters to the 
 People of the United Statcs.i His language in 
 that time of heated politicians was rash and 
 intemperate. One of Barlow's letters to his 
 brother-in-law Baldwin was obtained from him by 
 Matthew Lyon, the extravagant democratic mem- 
 ber of Congress from Vermont, who published it. 
 It contained violent denunciations of Adams and 
 Washington, and furnished one of the counts of 
 Lyon's arraignment under the sedition law, for 
 which he was thrown into prison. 
 
 In a memoir to the French Government at this 
 time, he denounced the system of privateering, 
 
 to each member. A couple of stanzas of the " ode : ' "will ex- 
 plain their use. 
 
 On this renown'd illustrious day, 
 Let freedom's sons he grind and gay, 
 
 And bigot fools deride, 
 This day a faithless tyrant fell ; 
 Nor warm, nor brave, sunk he to hell. 
 
 But felon-like he died. 
 
 ***** 
 We vow the tyrant justly fell 
 
 To ratify the deed; 
 Without all scruple, doubt or awe. 
 Our shining weapons forth we draw 
 
 And strike this mimic head. 
 
 * We are indebted for this copy as well as for the opportu- 
 nity of presenting a portrait not hitherto engraved, from an 
 original by Vanderlyn, to the Eev. Lemuel G. Olmstead of this 
 city, a gentleman connected by birth and marriage with the fa- 
 milies of three distinguished revolutionary worthies, Joel Bar- 
 low, Timothy Dwight, and Col. Humphreys. He is the grand- 
 nephew of Barlow on the mother's side. He has taken in 
 charge the collection of the writings of Barlow with a view to 
 the publication of a complete edition, which is much needed. 
 
 T Letters from Paris to the Citizens of the United States of 
 America on the System of Policy hitherto pursued by their 
 Government, relative to their Commercial Intercourse with 
 England and France. London, ISOtl. Svo. 
 
 with a view to its prevention in the new constitu- 
 tion. In 1805, having been absent from home 
 seventeen years, Barlow returned to the United 
 States. After a few months of travel, he turned 
 to Washington, and built a fine house for his resi- 
 dence in the district of Columbia, which he called 
 Kalorama. He projected a national academy to 
 be founded by government, but Congress did not 
 act upon his plan. 
 
 As an illustration of the feeling entertained for 
 Barlow at this time by the Federal party in New 
 England, we may give an account of a copy of 
 verses which he produced for a public dinner at 
 Washington, with the treatment they received in 
 Boston. 
 
 On the 14th of January, 1807, a dinner was 
 given at Washington by the citizens to Captain 
 Meriwether Lewis, in congratulation of his safe 
 return from the Rocky Mountains. Robert Brent 
 presided, and Captain Tingey and Colonel Whar- 
 ton were vice-presidents. " At an early period 
 of the entertainment," as the report of the Na- 
 tional Intelligencer* tells us, " the following ele- 
 gant and glowing Stanzas, from the pen of Mr. 
 Barlow, were recited by Mr. Beckley" : — 
 
 ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS. 
 
 Let the Nile cloak his head in the clouds, and defy 
 
 The researches of science and time ; 
 Let the Niger escape the keen traveller's eye, 
 
 By plunging or changing his clime. 
 
 Columbus! not so shall thy boundless domain 
 Defraud thy brave sons of their right: 
 
 Streams, midlands, and shorelands elude us in vain, 
 We shall drag their dark regions to light. 
 
 Look down, sainted sage, from thy synod of Gods ; 
 
 See, inspired by thy venturous soul, 
 Mackenzie roll northward his earth-draining floods, 
 
 And surge the broad waves to the pole. 
 
 With the same soaring genius thy Lewis ascends, 
 
 And seizing the car of the sun, 
 O'er the sky-propping hills and high waters he bends 
 
 And gives the proud earth a new zone. 
 
 Potowmak, Ohio, Missouri had felt 
 
 Half her globe in their cincture comprest ; 
 
 His long curving course has completed the belt. 
 And tamed the last tide of the west. 
 
 Then hear the loud voice of the nation proclaim, 
 
 And all ages resound the decree : 
 Let our Occident stream bear the young hero's name 
 
 Who taught him his path to the sea. 
 * 
 These four brother floods, like a garland of flowers, 
 
 Shall entwine all our states in a band, 
 Conform and confederate their wide spreading 
 powers, 
 
 And their wealth and their wisdom expand. 
 
 From Darien to Davis one garden shall bloom. 
 Where war's wearied banners are furl'd, 
 
 And the far scenting breezes that waft its perfume. 
 Shall settle the storms of the world. 
 
 Then hear the loud voice of the nation proclaim 
 
 And all ages resound the decree : 
 Let our Occident stream bear the young hero's 
 name. 
 
 Who taught him his path to the sea. 
 
 * Jan. 16, 180T. 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 395 
 
 In the Monthly Anthology for March, 1807, 
 appeared the following parody of this affair, 
 complimentary neither to Barlow nor to Jefferson, 
 which is known to be from the pen of John 
 Quiiicy Adams : — 
 
 ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS. 
 
 Good people listen to my tale, 
 
 'Tis nothing but what true is ; 
 I'll tell you of the mighty deeds 
 
 Achieved by Captain Lewis — 
 How starting from the Atlantiek shore 
 
 By fair and easy motion, 
 He journied, all the way by land, 
 
 Until he met the ocean. 
 
 Hekoick, sure, the toil must be 
 
 To travel through the woods, sir; 
 And never meet a foe, yet save 
 
 His person and his goods, sir ! 
 What marvels on the way he found 
 
 He'll tell you, if inelin'd, sir — 
 But /shall only now discdose 
 
 The things he did not find, sir. 
 
 He never with a Mammoth met, 
 
 However you may wonder; 
 Nor even with a Mammoth's bone, 
 
 Above the ground or under — 
 And, spite of all the pains he took 
 
 The animal to track, sir, 
 He never could o'ertake the hog 
 
 With navel on his, back, sir. 
 
 And from the day his course began, 
 
 Till even it was ended, 
 He never found an Indian tribe 
 
 From Welchmen straight descended : 
 Nor, much as of Philosophers 
 
 The fancies it might tickle ; 
 To season his adventures, met 
 
 A mountain, sous'd in pickle. 
 
 He never left this nether world — 
 
 For still he had his reason— 
 Nor once the waggon of the sun 
 
 Attempted he to seize on. 
 To bind a Zone about the earth 
 
 He knew he was not able — 
 Tuey say he did — but, nsk himself, 
 
 He'll tell you 'tis a fable. 
 
 He never dreamt of taming tides, 
 
 Like monkeys or like bears, sir — 
 A school, for teaching floods to flow, 
 
 "YVsis not among his cares, sir — 
 Had rivers ask'd of him their path, 
 
 They had but mov'd his laughter — 
 They knew their courses, all, as well 
 
 Before he came, as after. 
 
 And must we then resign the hope 
 
 These elements of changing ? 
 And must we still, alas! be told 
 
 That after all his ranging, 
 The Captain could discover nought 
 
 But water in the Fountains? 
 Must Forests still be form'd of Trees? 
 
 Of rugged Rocks the Mountains f 
 
 We never will be so fubb'd off, 
 
 As sure as I'm a sinner! 
 Come — let us all subscribe, and ask 
 
 The hero to a dinner — 
 And Barlow stanzas shall indite — 
 
 A bard, the tide who tames, sir — 
 And if we cannot alter things, 
 
 By G — , we'll change their names, sir! 
 
 Let old Columbus be once more 
 
 Degraded from his glory ; 
 And not a river by his name 
 
 Remember him in story — 
 For what is old Discovery 
 
 Compar'd to that which new is? 
 Strike — strike Columbia river out, 
 
 And put in — river Lewis 1 
 
 Let dusky Sally henceforth bear 
 
 The name of Isabella ; 
 And let the mountain, all of salt, 
 
 Be christen'd Monticella — 
 The hog with navel on his back 
 
 Tom Pain may be when drunk, sir — 
 And Joel call the Prairie-dog, 
 
 Which once was call'd a Skunk, sir. 
 
 And when the wilderness shall yield 
 
 To bumpers bravely brimming, 
 A nobler victory than men ; — 
 
 While all our heads are swimming, 
 We'll dash the bottle on the wall 
 
 And name (the thing's agreed on) 
 Our first-rate-ship United States, 
 
 The flying frigate tredon. 
 
 True — Tom and Joel now, no more 
 
 Can overturn a nation : 
 And work, by butchery and blood, 
 
 A great regeneration ; — 
 Yet, still we can turn inside out 
 
 Old Nature's Constitution, 
 And bring a Babel back of nanus — 
 
 Huzza ! for revolution ! 
 
 In 1807 the magnum opus of Barlow, the 
 Columbiad, appeared, dedicated to the author's 
 intimate friend Robert Fulton; the most costly 
 work which had been published in America. It 
 was issued in Philadelphia. It has eleven en- 
 gravings after original designs by Smirke, executed 
 by the best line engravers in London, Colliding, 
 Parker, Anker Smith, Raimbach, and others. 
 Of these, Hester Appearing to Columbus in Prison. 
 The Murder of Lucinda, Cruelty Presiding over 
 the Prison Ship, and The Initiation to the Mys- 
 teries of Isis, may be instanced for the force of 
 the conception and beauty of handling. The por- 
 trait of Barlow prefixed was painted by Fulton, 
 and is admirably engraved. From the dedication 
 we learn that Fulton " designated the subjects to 
 be painted for engravings," and, intent upon the 
 "expensive and splendid decorations" of the 
 work, ordered them to be executed in Barlow's 
 absence, and at his own expense. 
 
 The plan of the ten books of the Colunibiad is 
 simple enough. Columbus is introduced to us in 
 prison, suffering the ingratitude of his country, in 
 Spain, when Hesper appears to him and conducts 
 him to a mount of vision commanding the western 
 continent. The geography of the vast region is 
 described, and Hesper relates at length the story 
 of Mexico and Pern. The colonization of North 
 America by Raleigh and others is passed in review, 
 when we enter upon the old French war and the 
 scenes of the Revolution which form the central 
 portion of the work. The companions of Wash- 
 ington in the struggle have poetical justice done 
 them : — 
 
 Here stood stern Putnam, scored with ancient seal 1 !:, 
 The living records of his country's wars ; 
 Wayne, like a moving tower, assumes his post, 
 Fires the whole field, and is himself a host; 
 
396 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Undaunted Stirling, prompt to meet his foes, 
 And Gates and Sullivan for action rose ; 
 Macdougal, Clinton, guardians of the state, 
 Stretch the nerved aim to pierce the dejjth of fate. 
 
 ****** 
 Bland, Moyland, Sheldon, the long lines enforce 
 With light-arm'd scouts, with solid squares of horse ; 
 And Knox from his full park to battle brings 
 His brazen tubes, the last resort of kings. 
 The long black rows in sullen silence wait, 
 Their grim jaws gaping, soon to utter fate ; 
 When at his word the carbon cloud shall rise. 
 And well-aim'd thunders rock the shores and skies. 
 
 Among the special descriptions of this portion 
 of the poem are the indignant lines on the cruel- 
 ties of the British in the prison-ships, and the 
 employment of the Indians, introducing the story 
 of Miss M'Crea. The battles having been all dis- 
 posed of, including the victories of Saratoga and 
 Yorktown, and a naval action between Degrasse 
 and Graves, with the poetical license of a few 
 additional commanders who were not present, 
 and several valorous incidents which never oc- 
 curred on those occasions, the Columbiad passes 
 from the conquests of war to those of peace. The 
 progress and influences of modern art and science 
 are pointed out, the advantages of the federal go- 
 vernment, and of a larger confederation of nations, 
 with an assimilation and unity of language ; an 
 abandonment of war, and a final blaze of rockets 
 over the emancipation of the world from prejudice 
 and a general millennium of philosophic joy and 
 freedom. 
 
 South of the sacred mansion, first resort 
 The assembled sires, and pass the spacious court. 
 Here in his porch earth's figured genius stands, 
 Truth's mighty mirror poising in his hands ; 
 Graved on the pedestal and chased in gold, 
 Man's noblest arts their symbol forms unfold, 
 His tillage and his trade; with all the store 
 Of wondrous fabrics and of useful lore : 
 Labours that fashion to his sovereign sway 
 Earth's total powers, her soil, and air, and sea; 
 Force them to yield their fruits at his known call, 
 And bear his mandates round the rolling ball. 
 Beneath the footstool all destructive things, 
 The mask of priesthood and the mace of kings, 
 Lie trampled in the dust ; for here at last 
 Fraud, folly, error, all their emblems cast. 
 Each envoy here unloads his wearied hand 
 Of some old idol from his native land ; 
 One flings a pagod on the mingled heap, 
 One lays a crescent, one a cross to sleep ; 
 Swords, sceptres, mitres, crowns and globes and 
 
 stars, 
 Codes of false fame and stimulants to wars, 
 Sink in the settling mass; Eince guile began, 
 These are the agents of the woes of man. 
 Now the full concourse, where the arches bend, 
 Pour thro' by thousands and their scats ascend. 
 Far as the centred eye can range around, 
 Or the deep trumpet's solemn voice resound, 
 Long rows of reverend sires sublime extend, 
 And cares of worlds on every brow suspend. 
 High in the front, for soundest wisdom known, 
 A sire elect in peerless grandeur shone; 
 He open'd calm the universal cause, 
 To give each realm its limit and its laws, 
 Bid the last breath of tired contention cease, 
 And bind all regions in the leagues of peace; 
 Till one confederate, condependent sway 
 Spread with the sun and boand the walks of day, 
 
 One centred system, one all-ruling soul, 
 Live thro' the parts and regulate the whole. 
 
 This is the outline of the Columbiad. In its 
 composition it is an enlargement of the Vision of 
 Columbus, which his simple-minded countrymen, 
 perplexed by the new notions of the author, liked 
 the better of the two. 
 
 Barlow's alterations and amendments of his 
 early poem, like most changes of the kind where 
 poems have been rewritten, might as well have 
 been left unattempted. " God mend me," said 
 Pope, in his favorite form of exclamation, to the 
 link-boy; "Mend you, indeed," replied the boy 
 to the shambling little bard, "it would be far 
 easier to make a new one." There is occasionally 
 an improvement, however, in particularity of de- 
 tail, the prevailing fault of both poems being a 
 vague generality of expression. A comparison 
 of one or two passages will throw some light on 
 the peculiar powers of Barlow, and the verse- 
 generating habit of the age, when Pope was still 
 worshipped and Darwin was the newly-arrived 
 celebrity of the day. 
 
 Barlow, in the interval between the publication 
 of the two poems, had become a neologist in 
 words. It is in his later poem that we find the 
 ill-digested scientific phrases thrown out, which 
 he had swallowed at the banquet of the philoso- 
 phers. The sky " lamp'd with reverberant fires," 
 " this bivaulted sphere," nature which " impalms 
 all space," "the impermeated mass" of chaos, 
 "crude and crass," globes whirling forth "in 
 cosmogyral course," and hundreds of other simi- 
 lar crudities, were inventions of Barlow's later 
 day. In the midst of these scientific imperti- 
 nences, however, he has introduced one of his 
 purest passages on the birth of creation, when — 
 
 light at last begun, 
 And every system found a centred sun, 
 Call'd to his neighbor, and exchanged from far 
 His infant gleams with every social star; 
 Rays thwarting raj's and skies o'erarching skies, 
 Robed their dim planets with commingling dyes, 
 Hung o'er each heaven their living lamps serene, 
 And tinged with blue the frore expanse between: 
 Then joyous Nature hail'd the golden morn, 
 Drank the young beam, beheld her empire born. 
 
 In his allusion to the pyramids, he gives in a 
 word a new sense of their enormous mass, 
 threatening to disturb the orbit of gravitation : — 
 
 Press the poized earth with their enormous weights. 
 
 In the review of intellectual progress, in the 
 ninth book of the Columbiad — ■ 
 
 There, like her lark, gay Chaucer leads the lay, 
 The matin carol of his country's day : 
 
 is an improvement on 
 
 Where, like the star that leads the orient day, 
 Chaucer directs his tuneful sons their way. 
 
 The introduction of Franklin in the first sketch 
 is more poetical than in the second. In the 
 Vision : — 
 
 See on yon darkening height bold Franklin stand 
 
 in the Columbiad, this truthful glimpse of nature 
 is spoilt by the poetical finery of — 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 397 
 
 Yon meteor-mantled hill see Franklin tread. 
 
 Another line is, however, an improvement, the 
 charge from — 
 
 His daring toils, the threatening Mast that wait, 
 
 To— 
 
 His well-tried wires, that every tempest wait. 
 
 In which we get nearer to the fact ; and fact and 
 reality are not such enemies to poetry as is some- 
 times apprehended. 
 
 On other pages he omits his warmer religious 
 views of 1787, the date of his first version. The 
 picture of the divinely-nurtured life of the preach- 
 er and the earnest indication of the atonement of 
 the seventh and eighth hooks of the Vision are 
 entirely omitted in the Columbiad ; while we have 
 a vast deal of science in their stead. 
 
 In this poem there is a vivid anticipation of the 
 material progress of the world in opening lines of 
 communication by canals, which appears again 
 with some modifications in the Columbiad. As 
 it gives Barlow's poetry the high merit, in addi- 
 tion to whatever other qualities it may possess, of 
 the prophetic instinct, we quote the passage from 
 the earliest copy in The Vision, printed in 1787, 
 when "internal improvements," not as yet de- 
 veloped by Fulton and Clinton, rested wholly in 
 such chimerical suppositions. As we write, the 
 newspapers of the day (March, 1854) are occu- 
 pied with an additional fulfilment of the "prophecy, 
 in the division, if we may be allowed to receive 
 the Panama railroad as a substitute for Barlow's 
 canal, of the "ridgy Darien hills" opening the 
 commerce of Peru. 
 
 He saw, as widely spreads the unehannel'd plain, 
 "Where inland realms for ages bloom'd in vain, 
 Canals, long-winding, ope a watery flight, 
 And distant streams and seas and lakes unite. 
 Where Darien hills o'erlook the gulphy tide, 
 By human art, the ridgy banks divide; 
 Ascending sails the opening pass pursue, 
 And waft tiie sparkling treasures of Peru. 
 Jeneiro's stream from Plata winds his way, 
 And bold Madera opes from Paraguay. 
 From fair Albania, tow'rd the failing sun, 
 Back thro' the midland, lengthening channels run, 
 Meet the far lakes, their beauteous towns that lave, 
 And Hudson join to broad Ohio's wave.* 
 From dim Superior, whose unfathom'd sea 
 Drinks the mild splendors of the setting da} T , 
 New paths, unfolding, lead their watery pride, 
 And towns and empires rise along their side; 
 To Mississippi's source the passes bend, 
 And to the broad Pacific main extend. 
 From the red banks of blest Arabia's tide, 
 Thro' the dread isthmus, waves unwonted glide; 
 From Europe's crowded coasts while bounding sails 
 Look through the pass and call the Asian gales. 
 Volga and Oby distant oceans join, 
 And the long Danube meets the rolling Rhine; 
 While other streams that cleave the midland plain, 
 Spread their new courses to the distant main. 
 
 The notes to the Columhiad and the preliminary 
 account of Columbus are well written. The an- 
 
 * la the Columbiad (1S07) these last four lines read — 
 From Mohawk's mouth, far westing with the sun, 
 Thro all the midlands recent channels run, 
 Tap the redundant lakes, the broad hilts brave, 
 And Hudson marry with Missouri's wave. 
 
 ticipation of the decline of public war, from the 
 decline of private, is felicitous. Alluding to the 
 legend on the cannon of Louis XIV., ultima-ratio 
 regum, he says, "There certainly was a time 
 when the same device might have been written 
 on the hatchet or club or fist of every man ; and 
 the best weapon of destruction that he could 
 wield against his neighbor might have been called 
 ultima ratio virorum, meaning that human roa-. 
 son could go no farther." His remarks on the 
 philosophy of history show what would have been 
 the spirit of his contemplated History of the Ameri- 
 can Revolution, in which he would doubtless have 
 anticipated something of the treatment of Bancroft. 
 He carries his single idea of the evils of war to a 
 ridiculous excess, forgetting for the moment the 
 uses of poetry and the imagination, when he falls 
 foul of Homer for his pictures of battles and 
 kings, and pronounces the opinion that the 
 existence of that famous old bard "has really 
 proved one of the signal misfortunes of man- 
 kind."* 
 
 The Col tin/bind was reprinted in 1809, in two 
 duodecimo volumes; it was republished inEngland 
 and also in Paris. In this year Barlow delivered 
 a Fourth of July Oration at the request of the 
 Democratic citizens of the District of Columbia, 
 in which he urged a general system of public im- 
 provement and public instruction to be sustained 
 by appropriations from government. He next 
 turned his attention to the composition of a his- 
 tory of the United States, a task which was in- 
 terrupted by his appointment from Monroe of 
 Minister to France, succeeding Armstrong. His 
 new French labors were applied to the difficult 
 negotiations with the government, growing out of 
 the policy of France in the Berlin and Milan de- 
 crees. In October, 1812, when Bonaparte was 
 on his Russian campaign, Barlow received an in- 
 vitation to wait upon him at Wilna. He set off 
 post-haste ; the severity of the weather anil fa- 
 tigues of the journey, with the changes of tem- 
 perature from the small Jewish taverns in Poland 
 to the atmosphere without, induced an inflamma- 
 tion of the lungs, to which he rapidly succumbed, 
 dying on his return to Paris, December 22, 1812, 
 at Zarnawicka, an unimportant village near Cra- 
 cow. 
 
 His last poem was a withering expression of 
 his sentiment towards Napoleon. It was dictated 
 by Barlow, in December, 1812, while lying on his 
 bed, to his secretary, Thomas Barlow, about mid- 
 night, only a night or two before the van of the 
 French army, which had been defeated by the 
 burningof Moscow, entered Wilna on their retreat, 
 the same month in which he died. It was copied 
 in diplomatic characters and sent to Mrs. Barlow 
 in Paris, but it never reached her. The original 
 poem written at Wilna is now in the possession 
 of the Rev. Lemuel (1. Olmstead, who has placed 
 a copy at our disposal. The paper has, in water- 
 mark, a head of Napoleon, and the words, " Na- 
 2>oleon Empereur des Francais et Eoi Ifltalie. 1 ' 
 
 ADVICE TO A RAVEN IN RUSSIA. 
 
 Black fool, why winter here? These frozen skies. 
 Worn by your wings and deafened by your cries. 
 
 * Preface to the Columbiad. 
 
398 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Should wavn you lience, where milder suns invite, 
 
 And Day alternates with his mother Night. 
 
 You fear, perhaps, your food will fail you there — 
 
 Your human carnage, that delicious fare, 
 
 That lured you hither, following still your friend, 
 
 The great Napoleon, to the world's bleak end. 
 
 You fear because the southern climes pour'd forth 
 
 Their clustering nations to infest the north — 
 
 Bavarians, Austrians — those who drink the Po, 
 
 And those who skirt the Tuscan seas below, 
 
 With all Germania, Neustria, Belgia, Gaul, 
 
 Doom'd here to wade through slaughter to their fall. 
 
 You fear he left behind no wars to feed 
 
 His feather'd cannibals and nurse the breed. 
 
 Fear not, my screamer, call your greedy train, 
 
 Sweep over Europe, hurry back to Spain — 
 
 You'll find his legions there, the valiant crew, 
 
 Please best their masters when they toil for you. 
 
 Abundant there they spread the country o'er, 
 
 And taint the breeze with every nation's gore — 
 
 Iberian, Russian, British, widely strown, 
 
 But still more wide and copious flows their own. 
 
 Go where you will, Calabria, Malta, Greece, 
 
 Egypt and Syria still Ins fame increase. 
 
 Domingo's fattened isle and India's plaina 
 
 Glow deep with purple drawn from Gallic veins. 
 
 No raven's wing can stretch the flight so far 
 
 As the torn bandrols of Napoleon's war. 
 
 Choose then your climate, fix your best abode — 
 
 He'll make you deserts and he'll bring you blood. 
 
 How could you fear a dearth? Have not mankind, 
 
 Though slain by millions, millions left behind? 
 
 Has not conscription still the power to wield 
 
 Her annual falchion o'er the human field? 
 
 A faithful harvester! or if a man 
 
 Escape that gleaner, shall he 'scape the ban, 
 
 The triple ban, that, like the hound of hell, 
 
 Gripes with three joles to hold his victims well! 
 
 Fear nothing, then! hatch fast your ravenous brood, 
 
 Teach them to cry to Buonaparte for food. 
 
 They'll he, like you, of all his suppliant train, 
 
 The only class that never cries in vain ! 
 
 For see what natural benefits you lend — 
 
 The surest way to fix the mutual friend — 
 
 While on his slaughtered troops your tribes are fed, 
 
 You cleanse his camp and carry off his dead, 
 
 Imperial scavenger, but now, you know, 
 
 Your work is vain amid these hills of snow. 
 
 His tentless troops are marbled through with frost, 
 
 And changed to crystal when the breath is lost. 
 
 Mere trunks of ice, though limn'd like human 
 
 frames, 
 And lately warmed with life's endearing flames, 
 They cannot taint the air, the world infest, 
 Nor can you tear oue fibre from their breast. 
 No! from their visual sockets as they lie, 
 With beak and claws you cannot pluck an eye — ■ 
 The frozen orb, preserving still its form, 
 Defies your talons as it braves the storm, 
 But stands and stares to God as if to know, 
 In what curst hands he leaves his world below ! 
 Fly then, or starve, though all the dreadful road 
 From Minsk to Moscow with their bodies strow'd 
 May count some myriads, yet they can't suffice 
 To feed you more beneath these dreadful skies. 
 Go back and winter in the wilds of Spain ; 
 Feast there awhile, and in the next campaign 
 Rejoin your master, for you'll find him then, 
 With his new millions of the race of men, 
 Clothed in his thunders, all his flags unfurl'd, 
 Raging and storming o'er a prostrate world ! 
 War after war his hungry soul requires ; 
 State after state shall sink beneath his fires. 
 Yet other Spains in victim smoke shall rise. 
 And other Moscows Buffocate the skies. 
 
 Each land lie reeking with its people slain, 
 And not a stream run bloodless to the main, 
 Till men resume their souls, and dare to shed 
 Earth's total vengeance on the monster's head! 
 
 Barlow in early life married Ruth, sister of 
 the celebrated politician, Abraham Baldwin, a 
 Connecticut man who settled in Georgia, and who 
 received in his post in Congress Barlow's politi- 
 cal letters from Europe. In the dedication of the 
 Columbiad to Fulton, Barlow speaks of the poem 
 being much benefited by "the observations of 
 my excellent wife." . This lady survived him 
 nearly six years, dying at his seat of Kalorama, 
 May 30, 1818, at the age of sixty-two. 
 
 HTMN TO PEACE. 
 
 Hail, sacred Peace, who claim'st thy bright abode 
 'Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God, 
 Before his arm, around this shapeless earth, 
 Stretch'd the wide heav'ns and gave to nature birth; 
 Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung, 
 Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue ; 
 Veiled in the brightness of th' Almighty's mind, 
 In blest repose thy placid form reclined ; 
 Borne through the heaven, with his creating voice, 
 Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice; 
 Gave to seraphic hearts their sounding lays, 
 Their joy to angels and to men their praise. 
 
 From scenes of blood, these beauteous shores that 
 stain,. 
 From gasping friends that press the sanguine plain. 
 From fields, long taught in vain thy flight to mour. , 
 I rise, delightful power, and greet thy glad return. 
 Too long the groans of death and battle's bray 
 Have rung discordant through the unpleasing lay ; 
 Let pity's tear its balmy fragrance shed, 
 O'er heroes' wounds and patriot warriors dead: 
 Accept, departed shades, these grateful sighs, 
 Your fond attendants to the approving skies. 
 But now the untuneful trump shall grate no more. 
 Ye silver streams, no longer swell with gore ; 
 Bear from your beauteous banks the crimson stain. 
 With yon retiring navies to the main ; 
 While other views unfolding on my eyes, 
 And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise. 
 Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng, 
 Life to my soul; and rapture to my song; 
 Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray, 
 The arts and virtues that attend thy sway ; 
 To see thy blissful charms that here descend, 
 Thro' distant realms and endless years extend. 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF KINGS. 
 
 Eternal Truth, thy trump undaunted lend, 
 People, and priests, and courts, and kings, attend ; 
 While, borne on western gales from that far shore 
 Where Justice reigns, and tyrants tread no more, 
 Th' untainted voice that no dissuasion awes, 
 That fears no frown, and seeks no blind applause, 
 Shall tell the bliss that Freedom sheds abroad, 
 The rights of Nature, and the gift, of God. 
 
 Think not, ye knaves, whom meanness styles the 
 great, 
 Drones of the church and harpies of the state, — 
 Ye, whose curst sires, for blood and plunder fani'd, 
 Sultans, or kings, or czars, or enip'rors nam'd, 
 Taught the deluded world their claims to own, 
 And raise the crested reptiles to a throne, — 
 Ye, who pretend to your dark host was given 
 The lamp of life, the mystic keys of heaven ; 
 Whose impious arts with magic spells began, 
 When shades of igu'rauce veil'd the race of man ; 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 390 
 
 Who change, from age to age, the sly deceit, 
 As science beams, and virtue learns the cheat; 
 Tyrants of double powers, the souls that blind, 
 To rob, to scourge, and brutalize mankind, — - 
 Think not 1 come to croak "with omen'd yell 
 The dire damnations of your future hell, 
 To bend a bigot or reform a knave, 
 By op'niug all the scenes beyond the grave. 
 I know your crusted souls : while one defies, 
 In sceptic scorn, the vengeance of the skies, 
 The other boasts, — I ken thee, power divine, 
 But fear thee not; th' avenging bolt is mine. 
 
 No! 'tis the present world that prompts the song, 
 The world we see, the world that feels the wrong, 
 The world of men, whose arguments ye know, 
 Of men, long curb'd to servitude and woe, 
 Men, rous'd from sloth, by indignation string, 
 Their strong hands loos'd, and found their fearless 
 
 tongue; 
 Whose voice of thunder, whose descending steel, 
 Shall speak to souls, and teacli dull nerves to feel. 
 
 Think not, (ah no, the weak delusion shun, 
 Burke leads you wrong, the world is not his own), 
 Indulge not once the thought, the vap'ry dream, 
 The fool's repast, the mad-man's thread-bare theme, 
 That nations, rising in the light of truth, 
 Strong with new life and pure regenerate youth, 
 Will shrink from toils so splendidly begun, 
 Theii bliss abandon and their glory shun, 
 Betray the trust by Heav'n's own hand consign'd, 
 The great concentred stake, the interest of mankind. 
 Ye speak of kings combin'd, some league that 
 draws 
 Europe's whole force, to save your sinking cause ; 
 Of fancy'd hosts by myriads that advance 
 To crush the untry'd power of new-born France. 
 Misguided men! these idle tales despise; 
 Let one bright ray of reason strike your eyes ; 
 Show me your kings, the sceptred horde parade, — 
 See their pomp vanish ! see your Visions fade ! 
 Indignant man resumes the shaft he gave, 
 Disarms the tyrant and unbinds the slave, 
 Displays the unclad skeletons of kings.* 
 Spectres of power, and serpents without stings. 
 And shall mankind,— shall France, whose giant 
 
 might 
 Rent the dark veil, and dragg'd them forth to light, 
 Heed now their threats in dying anguish tost? 
 And she who fcll'd the monster, fear the ghost? 
 Bid young Alcides, in his grasp who takes, 
 And gripes with naked hand the twisting snakes, 
 Their force exhausted, bid him prostrate fall, 
 And dread their shadows trembling on the wall. 
 
 But grant to kings and courts their ancient play, 
 Recal their splendour and revive their sway ; 
 Can all your cant and all your cries persuade 
 One power to join you in your wild crusade '( 
 In vain ye search to earth's remotest end ; 
 No court can aid you, and no king defend. 
 
 Not the mad knave who Sweden's sceptre stole, 
 Nor she whose thunder shakes the northern pole ; 
 Nor Frederic's widow' 4 sword, that scorns to tell 
 On whose weak brow his crown reluctant fell. 
 Not the tri-seeptred prince, of Austrian mould, 
 The ape of wisdom and the slave of gold, 
 Theresa's son, who, with a feeble grace, 
 Just mimics all the vices of his race ; 
 For him no charm can foreign strife afford, 
 Too mean to spend his wealth, too wise to trust his 
 sword. 
 Glance o'er the Pyrenees, — but you'll disdain 
 To break the dream that soothes the monk of Spain. 
 
 » Ossa tides regwm vacuu exTiausla medullie. 
 
 Juvlnal, Sat. 8. 
 
 He counts his beads, and spends his holy zen! 
 
 To raise once more th' inquisitorial wheel, 
 
 Prepares the faggot' and the flame renews, 
 
 To roast the French, as ouee the Moors and Jews : 
 
 While abler hands the busy task divide. 
 
 His queen to dandle and his state to guide. 
 
 Yet ask great Pitt to join your desp'rate work, — 
 See how his annual aid confounds the Turk ! 
 Like a war-elephant his bulk he shows, 
 And treads down friends, when frighten'd by his 
 
 foes. 
 Where then, forsaken villains, will ye turn ? 
 Of France the outcast and of earth the scorn ; 
 What new-made charm can dissipate your fears? 
 Can Burke's mad foam, or Calonnc's house of peers? 
 Can Artois' sword, that erst near Calpe's wall, 
 Where Crillon fought and Elliott was to fall, 
 Buru'd with the fire of fame, but harmless burn'd, 
 For sheath'd the sword remain'd, and in its sheath 
 
 return'd ! 
 Oh Burke, degenerate slave ! with grief and 
 
 shame 
 The Muse indignant mu6t repeat thy name. 
 Strange man, declare, — since, at creation's birth, 
 From crumbling chaos sprang this hcav'n and earth, 
 Since wrecks and outcast relics still remain, 
 Whirl'd ceaseless round confusion's dreary reign, 
 Declare, from all these fragments, whence you stole 
 That genius wild, that monstrous mass of soul; 
 Where spreads the widest waste of all extremes, 
 Full darkness frowns, and heav'n's own splendour 
 
 beams ; 
 Truth, error, falsehood, rhetoric's raging tide, 
 And pomp and meanness, prejudice and pride, 
 Strain to an endless clang thy voice of fire, 
 Thy thoughts bewilder and thy audience tire. 
 
 Like Phosbus' son, we see thee wing thy way, 
 Snatch the loose reins, and mount the car of day, 
 To earth now plunging plough thy wasting course, 
 The great sublime of weakness and of force. 
 But while the world's keen eye, with generous 
 
 glance, 
 T!>3' faults could pardon and thy worth enhance. 
 When foes were hush'd, when justice dar'd com- 
 mend, 
 And e'en fond freedom claim'd thee as a friend, 
 Why, in a gulpli of baseness, sink forlorn, 
 And change pure praise for infamy and scorn? 
 And didst thou hope, by thy infuriate quill ■ 
 To rouse mankind the blood of realms to spill? 
 Then to restore, on death-devoted plains, 
 Their scourge to tyrants, and to man his chains? 
 To swell their souls with thy own bigot rage, 
 And blot the glories of so bright an age ? 
 First stretch thy arm, and, with less impious might, 
 Wipe out the stars, and quench the solar light : 
 " For hcaun and earth" the voice of God ordains, 
 " Shalt pans and perish, but my word remains" 
 Th' eternal word, which gave, in spite of thee, 
 Reason to man, that bids the man be free. 
 
 Thou could'st not hope: 'twas heav'n's returning 
 
 grace, 
 In kind compassion to our injur'd race, 
 Which stripp'd that soul, ere it should flee from 
 
 hence, 
 Of the last garb of decency or sense. 
 Left thee its own foul horrors to display, 
 In all the blackness of its native day, 
 To sink at last, from earth's glad surface hurl'd, 
 The sordid sov'reign of the letter'd world. 
 
 In some sad hour, ere death's dim terrors spread, 
 Ere seas of dark oblivion whelm thy head, 
 Reflect, lost man, — If those, thy kindred knaves, 
 O'er the broad Rhine whose fiag rebellious waves, 
 Once draw the sword ; its burning point shall bring 
 
400 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITER ATU HE. 
 
 To thy quick nerves a never-ending sting ; 
 
 The blood they shed thy weight of woe shall swell, 
 
 And their grim ghosts for ever with thee dwell. 
 
 Learn hence, ye tyrants, ere ye learn too late, 
 Of all your craft th' inevitable fate. 
 The hour is come, the world's inelosrag eyes 
 Discern with rapture where its wisdom lies ; 
 From western heav'ns th' inverted orient springs, 
 The morn of man, the dreadful night of kings. 
 Dim, like the day-struck owl, ye grope in light, 
 No arm for combat, no resource in flight ; 
 If on your guards your lingering hopes repose, 
 Your guards are men, aud men you've made your 
 
 foe:. ; 
 If to your rocky ramparts ye repair, 
 De Launay's fate can tell your fortune there. 
 No turn, no shift, no courtly arts avail, 
 Each mask is broken, all illusions fail ; 
 Driv'n to your last retreat of shame and fear, 
 One counsel waits you, one relief is near: 
 By woi"th internal, rise to self-wrought fame, 
 Your equal rank, your human kindred claim ; 
 'Tis reason's choice, 'tis wisdom's final plan, 
 To drop the monarch and assume the man. 
 
 Hail man, exalted title ! first and best, 
 On God's own image by his hand imprest, 
 To which at last the reas'ning race is driven, 
 And seeks anew what first it gain'd from heaven. 
 max, my brother, how the cordial flame 
 Of all endearments kindles at the name ! 
 In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes, 
 In every tongue thy kindred accents rise ; 
 The thought expanding swells my heart with glee, 
 It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee. 
 
 Say then, fraternal family divine, 
 Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine, 
 Say from what source the dire delusion rose, 
 That souls like ours were ever made for foes ; 
 Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread, 
 To rear our mansions and receive our bread, 
 Should blush so often for the race she bore, 
 So long be drench'd with floods of filial gore ; 
 Why to small realms for ever rest confiu'd 
 Our great affections, meant for all mankind. 
 Though climes divide us ; shall the stream or sea, 
 That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me, 
 Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar, 
 And meet his falchion in the ranks of war ? 
 
 Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire 
 In nation's minds could e'er the wish inspire ; 
 Where equal rights each sober voice should guide, 
 No blood would stain them, and no war divide. 
 'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state, 
 Man sunk in titles, lost in small and great : 
 'Tis rank, distinction, all the hell that springs 
 From those prolific monsters, courts and kings. 
 These are the vampires nurs'd on nature's spoils; 
 For these with pangs the starving peasant toils, 
 For these the earth's broad surface teems with grain, 
 Theirs the dread labours of the devious main ; 
 And when the wasted world but dares refuse 
 The gifts oppressive and extorted dues, 
 The}' bid wild slaughter spread the gory plair3, 
 The life-blood gushing from a thousand veins, 
 Erect their thrones amid the sanguine flood, 
 And dip their purple in the nation's blood. 
 
 The gazing crowd, of glittering state afraid, 
 Adore the power their coward meanness made ; 
 In Avar's short intervals, while regal shows 
 Still blind their reason and insult their woes, 
 What strange events for proud processions call ! 
 See kingdoms crowding to a birth-night ball ! 
 See the long pomp in gorgeous glare display'd, 
 The tinsel'd guards, the squadrou'd horse parade ; 
 See heralds gay, with emblems on their vest, 
 
 In tissu'd robes, tall, beauteous pages drest ; 
 Amid superior ranks of splendid slaves, 
 Lords, dukes and princes, titulary knaves, 
 Coufus'dly shine their crosses, gems and stars, 
 Sceptres and globes and crowns and spoils of wars. 
 On gilded orbs see thundering chariots roll'd, 
 Steeds, snorting fire, and champing bitts of gold, 
 Prance to the trumpet's voice ; while each assumes 
 A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes. 
 High on a moving throne, and near the van, 
 The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man ; 
 Clarions and flutes and drums his way prepare, 
 And shouting millions rend the troubled air ; 
 Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain, 
 Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain. 
 
 Of these no more. From orders, slaves and kings, 
 To thee, man, my heart rebounding springs, 
 Behold th' ascending bliss that waits thy call, 
 Heav'n's own bequest, the heritage of all. 
 Awake to wisdom, seize the proffer'd prize; 
 From shade to light, from grief to glory rise. 
 Freedom at last, with reason in her train, 
 Extends o'er earth her everlasting reign; 
 See Gallia's sons, so late the tyrant's sport, 
 Machines in war and sycophants at court, 
 Start into men, expand their well-taught mind, 
 Lords of themselves and leaders of mankind. 
 On equal rights their base of empire lies, 
 On walls of wisdom see the structure rise ; 
 Wide o'er the gazing world it towers sublime, 
 A moilell'd form for each surrounding clime. 
 To useful toils the}" bend their noblest aim, 
 Make patriot views and moral views the same. 
 Renounce the wisli of war, bid conquest cease, 
 Invite all men to happiness and peace, 
 To faith and justice rear the youthful race, 
 With strength exalt them and with science grace. 
 Till truth's blest banners, o'er the regions hurl'd, 
 Shake tyrants from their thrones, and cheer the 
 waking world. 
 
 In northern climes, where feudal shades of iate 
 Chill'd every heart and palsied every state, 
 Behold, illumin'd by th' instructive age, 
 That great phenomenon, a sceptred sage. 
 There Stanislaus unfurls his prudent plan. 
 Tears the strong bandage from the eyes of man. 
 Points the progressive march, and shapes the way. 
 That leads a realm from darkness into day. 
 
 And deign, for once, to turn a transient CA'C 
 To that wide world that skirts the western sky ; 
 Hail the mild morning, where the dawn began, 
 The full fruition of the hopes of man. 
 Where sage experience seals the sacred cause ■ 
 And that rare union, liberty and laws. 
 Speaks to the reas'ning race : to freedom rise. 
 Like them be equal, and like them be wise. 
 
 THE ITASTY PUDDING. 
 
 A Poem in Three Cantos. 
 
 Written at Chambery in Savoy, January, 1793. 
 
 By Joel Bfrlow. 
 
 Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci, 
 
 He makes a good breakfast who mixe3 pudding with 
 
 molasses. 
 
 To Mrs. Washington. 
 
 Madam : — A simplicity in diet, whether it be con- 
 sidered with reference to the happiness of individu- 
 als or the prosperity of a nation, is of more conse- 
 quence than we are apt to imagine. In recommend- 
 ing so great and necessary a virtue to the rational 
 part of mankind, I wish it were in my power to do 
 it in such a manner as would be likely to gain their 
 attention. I am sensible that it is one of those sub- 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 401 
 
 jects in which example* hns infinitely more power 
 than the most convincing arguments, or the highest 
 charms of poetry. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, 
 though possessing these two advantages in a greater 
 degree than any other work of the kind, has not 
 prevented villages in England from being deserted. 
 The apparent interest of the rich individuals, who 
 form the taste as well as the laws in that country, 
 has been against him ; and with that interest it lias 
 been vain to contend. 
 
 The vicious habits which in this little piece I en- 
 deavor to combat, seem to me not so difficult to 
 cure. No class of people has any interest in sup- 
 porting them, unless it be the interest which certain 
 families may feel in vieing with each other in sump- 
 tuous entertainments. There may indeed be some 
 instances of depraved appetites which no arguments 
 will conquer ; but these must be rare. There are 
 very few persons but would always prefer a 
 plain dish for themselves, and would prefer it like- 
 wise for their guests, if there were no risk of repu- 
 tation in the case. This difficulty can only be re- 
 moved by example ; and the example should pro- 
 ceed from those whose situation enables them to 
 take the lead in forming the manners of a nation. 
 Persons of this description in America, I should hope, 
 are neither above nor below the influence of truth 
 and reason when conveyed in language suited to the 
 subject. 
 
 Whether the manner I have chosen to address 
 my arguments to them be such as to promise any 
 success, is what I cannot decide. But I certainly 
 had hopes of doing some good, or I should not have 
 taken the pains of putting so many rhymes together ; 
 and mueh less should I have ventured to place your 
 name at the head of these observations. , 
 
 Your situation commands the respect and your 
 character the affections of a numerous people. 
 These circumstances impose a duty upon you, which 
 I believe you discharge to your own satisfaction 
 and that of others. The example of your domestic 
 virtues has doubtless a great effect among your 
 countrywomen. I only wish to rank simplicity of 
 diet among the virtues. In that case it will certainly 
 be cherished by you, and I should hope more es- 
 teemed by others than it is at present. 
 
 The Authoe. 
 
 the hasty puttoixg. canto i. 
 
 Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise, 
 To cramp the day and hide me from the skies ; 
 Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled, 
 Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world, 
 I sing not you. A softer theme I choose, 
 A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse, 
 But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire 
 The purest frenzy of poetic fire. 
 
 Despise it not, ye bards to terror steel'd, 
 Who hurl your thunders round the epic field ; 
 Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing 
 Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring ; ■ 
 Or on some distant fair your notes employ, 
 And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy. 
 I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, 
 My morning incense, and my evening meal, 
 The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl, 
 Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul. 
 The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine, 
 Its substance mingle, married in with thine, 
 Shall cool and temper thy superior heat, 
 And save the pains of blowing while I eat. 
 
 Oh ! could the smooth, the emblematic song 
 Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue, 
 Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime. 
 And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme, 
 
 vol. I.— 26 
 
 No more thy awkward nnpoetic name 
 Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame ; 
 But rising grateful to the aecustom'd ear, 
 All bards should catch it, and all realms revere 1 
 
 Assist me first with pious toil to trace 
 Through wrecks of time, thy lineage and thy race ; 
 Declare what lovely squaw, in da)*s of yore, 
 (Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore) 
 First gave thee to the world ; her works of fame 
 Have lived indeed, but lived without a name. 
 Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days, 
 First learn'd with stones to crack the well dried. 
 
 maize, 
 Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower. 
 In boiling water stir the yellow flour : 
 The yellow flour, bestrew'd and stirr'd with haste, 
 Swells in the flood and thickens to a paste, 
 Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim. 
 Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim ; 
 The knobs at last the busy ladle breaks, 
 And the whole mass its true consistence takes. 
 
 Could but her sacred name, unknown so long, 
 Rise, like her labors, to the son of song, 
 To her, to them, I'd consecrate my Lays, 
 And blow her pudding with the breath of praise. 
 If 'twas Oella whom 1 sang before 
 I here ascribe her one great virtue more. 
 Not through the rieh Peruvian realms alone 
 The fame of Sol's sweet daughter should be known, 
 But o'er the world's wide clime should live secure, 
 Far as his rays extend, as long as they endure. 
 
 Dear Hasty Pudding, what unpromised joy 
 Expands my heart, to meet thee in Savoy ! 
 Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to 
 
 roam, 
 Each clime my country, and each house my home, 
 My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end, 
 I greet my long lost, unforgotten friend. 
 
 For thee through Paris, that corrupted town, 
 How long in vain I wandered up and down, 
 Where shameless Bacchus, with his drenching hoard. 
 Cold from his cave usurps the morning board. 
 Loudon is lost in smoke and steep'd in tea.; 
 No Yankee there can lisp the name of thee ; 
 The uncouth word, a libel on the town, 
 Would call a proclamation from the crown.* 
 From climes oblique, that fear the sun's full rays, 
 Chill'd in their fogs, exclude the generous maize: 
 A grain, whose rich, luxuriant growth requires 
 Short gentle showers, and bright etherial fires. 
 
 But here, though distant from our native shore, 
 With mutual glee, we meet and laugh once more, 
 The same ! I know thee by that yellow face, 
 That strong complexion of true Indian race, 
 Which time can never change, nor soil impair, 
 Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey's morbid air ; 
 For endless years, through every mild domain, 
 Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to reign. 
 
 But man, more fickle, the bold license claims, 
 In different realms to give thee different names. 
 Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant 
 Polenta call, the French of course Polente. 
 E'en in thy native regions, how I blush 
 To hear the Penns3 - lvanians call thee Mush I 
 On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spaw 
 Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn. 
 All spurious appellations, void of truth ; 
 I've better known thee from my earliest youth, 
 Thy name is Hasty-Pudding ! thus my sire 
 Was wont to greet thee fuming from his fire ; 
 And while he argued in thy just defence 
 
 * A cert-tin king, at the time when this was written, was 
 publishing proclamations to prevent American, principles from . 
 being propagated in his country. 
 
402 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 With logic clear, he thus explain'd the sense : — 
 " In haste the hoiling cauldron, o'er the blaze, 
 Receives and cooks the ready powder'd maize; 
 In haste 'tis served, and then in equal haste, 
 With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast. 
 No carving to be done, no knife to grate 
 The tender ear, and wound the stony plate ; 
 But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip, 
 And taught with art the yielding mass to dip, 
 By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored, 
 Perforins the hasty honors of the board." 
 Such is thy name, significant and clear, 
 A name, a sound to every Yankee dear, 
 But most to me, whose heart and palate chaste 
 Preserve my pure hereditary taste. 
 
 There are who strive to stamp with disrepute 
 The luscious food, because it feeds the brute ; 
 In tropes of high-strain'd wit, while gaudy prigs 
 Compare thy nursling, man, to paniper'd pigs ; 
 With sovereign scorn I treat the vulgar jest, 
 Nor fear to share thy bounties with the beast. 
 What though the generous cow gives me to quaff 
 The milk nutritious : am I then a calf? 
 Or can the genius of the noisy swine, 
 Though nursed on pudding, claim a kin to mine? 
 Sure the sweet song, I fashion to thy praise, 
 Runs more melodious than the notes they raise. 
 
 My song resounding in its grateful glee, 
 No merit claims : I praise myself in thee. 
 My father loved thee through his length of days! 
 For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize ; 
 From thee what health, what vigor he possess'd, 
 Ten sturdy freemen from his loins attest ; 
 Thy constellation ruled my natal morn, 
 And all my bones were made of Indian corn. 
 Delicious grain ! whatever form it take, 
 To roast or boil, to smother or to bake, 
 In every dish 'tis welcome still to me, 
 But most, my Hasty Pudding, most in thee. 
 
 Let the green succotash with thee contend, 
 Let beans and corn their sweetest juices blend, 
 Let butter drench them in its yellow tide, 
 And a long slice of bacon grace their side; 
 Not all the plate, how famed soe'er it be, 
 Can please my palate like a bowl of thee. 
 Some talk of Hoe-Cake, fair Virginia's pride, 
 Rich Johnny-Cake, this mouth' has often tried; 
 Both please me well, their virtues much the Bame, 
 Alike their fabric, as allied their fame, 
 Except in dear New England, where the last 
 Receives a dash of pumpkin in the paste, 
 To give it sweetness and improve the taste. 
 But place them all before me, smoking hot, 
 The big, round dumpling, rolling from the pot, 
 The pudding of the bag, whose quivering breast, 
 With suet lined, leads on the Yankee feast, 
 The Charlotte brown, within whose crusty sides 
 A belly soft the pulpy apple hides ; 
 The yellow bread whose face like amber glows, 
 And all of Indian that the bake-pan knows, — 
 You tempt me not — my fav'rite greets my eyes, 
 To that loved bowl my spoon by instinct flies. 
 
 canto n. 
 
 To mis the food by vicious rules of art, 
 To kill the stomach, and to sink the h' A, 
 To make mankind to social virtue sour, 
 Cram o'er each dish, and be what they devour ; 
 For this the kitchen muse first fram'd her book, 
 Commanding sweats to stream from every cook; 
 Children no more their antic gambols tried, 
 And friends to physic wonder'd why they died. 
 
 Not so the Yankee — his abundant feast, 
 With simples furnish'd and with plainness dresfc, 
 A numerous offspring gathers round the board, 
 
 And cheers alike the servant and the lord ; 
 
 Whose well-bought hunger prompts the joyous taste, 
 
 And health attends them from the short repast. 
 
 While the full pail rewards the milk-maid's toil, 
 The mother sees the morning cauldron boil ; 
 To stir the pudding next demands their care ; 
 To spread the table and the bowls prepare ; 
 To feed the household as their portions cool 
 And send them all to labor or to schook 
 
 Yet may the simplest dish some rules impart, 
 For nature scorns not all the aids of art. 
 E'en Hasty-Pudding, purest of all food, 
 May still be bad, indifferent, or good, 
 As sage experience the short process guides, 
 Or want of skill, or want of care presides. 
 Whoe'er would form it on the surest plan, 
 To rear the child and long sustain the man ; 
 To shield the morals while it mends the size, 
 And all the powers of every food supplies, 
 Attend the lesson that the muse shall bring, 
 Suspend your spoons, and listen while I sing. 
 
 But since, man ! thy life and health demand 
 Not food alone but labor from thy hand, 
 First in the field, beneath the sun's strong rays, 
 Ask of thy mother earth the needful maize; 
 She loves the race that courts her yielding soil. 
 And gives her bounties to the sons of toil. 
 
 When now the ox, obedient to thy call, 
 Repays the loan that fill'd the winter stall, 
 Pursue his traces o'er the furrow'd plain, 
 And plant in measur'd hills the golden grain. 
 But when the tender germ begins to shoot, 
 And the green spire declares the sprouting root, 
 Then guard your nursling from each greedy foe, 
 The insidious worm, the all-devouring crow. 
 A little ashes, sprinkled round the spire, 
 Soon steep'd in rain, will bid the worm retire ; 
 The feather'd robber with his hungry maw 
 Swift flies the field before your man of straw, 
 A frightful image, such as schoolboys bring, 
 When met to burn the pope, or hang the king. 
 
 Thrice in the season, through each verdant row 
 Wield the strong ploughshare and the faithful hoe : 
 The faithful hoe, a double task that takes, 
 To till the summer corn, and roast the winter cakes. 
 
 Slow springs the blade, while check'd by chilling 
 rains, 
 Ere yet the sun the seat of Cancer gains ; 
 But when his fiercest fires emblaze the land, 
 Then start the juices, then the roots expand ; 
 Then, like a column of Corinthian mould, 
 The stalk struts upward and the leaves unfold ; 
 The busy branches all the ridges fill, 
 Entwine their arms, and kiss from hill to hill. 
 Here cease to vex them, all your cares are done : 
 Leave the last labors to the parent sun ; 
 Beneath his genial smiles, the well-drest field, 
 When autumn calls, a plenteous crop shall yield. 
 
 Now the 6troug foliage bears the standards high, 
 And shoots the tall top-gallants to the sky ; 
 The suckling ears their silky fringes bend, 
 And pregnant grown, their swelling coats distend ; 
 The loaded stalk, while still the burthen grows, 
 O'erhangs the space that runs between the rows; 
 High as a hop-field waves the silent grove, 
 A safe retreat for little thefts of love, 
 When the pledged roasting-ears invite the maid, 
 To meet her swain beneath the new-form'd shade; 
 His generous hand unloads the cumbrous hill, 
 And the green spoils her ready basket fill ; 
 Small compensation for the two-fold bliss, 
 The promised wedding, and the present kiss. 
 
 Slight depredations these ; but now the moon 
 Calls from his hollow tree the sly raccoon ; 
 And while by night he bears his prize away, 
 
JOEL BARLOW. 
 
 40, 
 
 The bolder squirrel labors through the day. 
 Both thieves alike, but provident of time, 
 A virtue rare, that almost hides their crime. 
 Then let them steal the little stores they can, 
 And fill their gran'ries from the toils of man ; 
 "We've one advantage, where they take no part, — 
 With all their wiles they ne'er have found the art 
 To boil the Hasty-Pudding ; here we shine 
 Superior far to tenants of the pine; 
 This envied boon to man shall still belong, 
 Unshared by them, in substance or in song. 
 
 At last the closing season browns the plain, 
 And ripe October gathers in the grain; 
 Deep loaded carts the spacious corn-house fill, 
 The sack distended marches to the mill ; 
 The lab'ring mill beneath the burthen groans, 
 And showers the future pudding from the stones ; 
 Till the glad housewife greets the powder'd gold, 
 And the new crop exterminates the old. 
 Ah who can sing what every wight must feel, 
 The joy that enters with the bag of meal, 
 A general jubilee pervades the house, 
 Wakes every child and gladdens every mouse. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 The days grow short; but though the falling sun 
 To the glad swain proclaims his day's work done, 
 Night's pleasing shades his various tasks prolong, 
 And yield new subjects to my various song. 
 For now, the corn-house fill'd, the harvest home, 
 The invited neighbors to the husking come; 
 A frolic scene, where work, and mirth, and play, 
 Unite their charms to chase the hours away. 
 
 Where the huge heap lies centred in the hall, 
 The lamp suspended from the cheerful wall, 
 Brown corn-fed nymphs, and strong hard-handed 
 
 beaus, 
 Alternate ranged, extend in circling rows, 
 Assume their seats, the solid mass attack ; 
 The dry husks rustle, and the corn-cobs crack; 
 The song, the laugh, alternate notes resound, 
 And the sweet cider trips in silence round. 
 
 The laws of husking every wight can tell; 
 And sure no laws he ever keeps so well: 
 For each red ear a general kiss he gains, 
 "With each smut ear he smuts the luckless swains ; 
 But when to some sweet maid a prize is cast, 
 Red as her lips, and taper as her waist, 
 She walks the round, and culls one favored beau, 
 "Who leaps, the luscious tribute to bestow. 
 Various the sport, as are the wits and brains 
 Of well pleased lasses and contending swains; 
 Till the vast mound of corn is swept away, 
 And he that gets the last, ear wins the day. 
 
 Meanwhile the housewife urges all her care, 
 The well-earu'd feast to hasten and prepare. 
 The sifted meal already waits her hand, 
 The milk is strain'd, the bowls in order stand, 
 The fire flames high ; and, as a pool (that takes 
 The headlong stream that o'er the mill-dam breaks) 
 Foams, roars, and rages, with incessant toils, 
 So the vex'd cauldron rages, roars and boilf. 
 
 First with clean salt, she seasons well the food, 
 Then strews the flour, and thickens all the flood. 
 Long o'er the simmering fire she lets it stand ; 
 To stir it well demands a stronger hand ; 
 The husband takes his turn: and round and round 
 The ladle flies ; at last the toil is crown'd ; 
 "When to the board the thronging buskers pour, 
 And take their seats as at the corn before. 
 
 I leave them to their'feast. There still belong 
 More useful matters to my faithful song. 
 For rules there are, though ne'er unfolded yet, 
 Kice rules and wise, how pudding should be ate. 
 
 Some with molasses grace the luscious treat, 
 
 And mix, like bards, the useful and the sweet. 
 A wholesome dish, and well deserving praise, 
 A great resource in those bleak wintry days, 
 When the chill'd earth lies buried deep in snow, 
 And raging Boreas dries the shivering cow. 
 
 Blest cow! thy praise shall still my notes employ, 
 Great source of health, the only source of joy ; 
 Mother of Egypt's god, — but sure, for me, 
 Were I to leave my God, I'd worship thee. 
 How oft thy teats these pious bands have prcss'd! 
 How oft thy bounties prove my only feast! 
 How oft I've fed thee with my favoi ite grain ! 
 And roar'd, like thee, to see thy children slain! 
 
 Ye swains who know her various worth to prize, 
 Ah ! house her well from winter's angry skies. 
 Potatoes, pumpkins, should her sadness cheer, 
 Corn from your crib, and mashes from your beer ; 
 When spring returns, she'll well acquit the loan, 
 And nurse at once your infants and her own. 
 
 Milk then with pudding I should always choose; 
 To this in future I confine my muse, 
 Till she in haste some further hints unfold, 
 Good for the young, nor useless to the old. 
 First in your bowl the milk abundant take, 
 Then drop with care along the silver lake 
 Your flakes of pudding ; these at first will bide 
 Their little bulk beneath the swelling tide ; 
 But when their growing mass no more can sink, 
 When the soft island looms above the brink, 
 Then check your hand ; you've got the portion due, 
 So taught my sire, and what he taught is true. 
 
 There is a choice in spoons. Though small appear 
 The nice distinction, yet to me 'tis clear. 
 The deep bowl'd Gallic spoon, contrived to scoop 
 In ample draughts the thin diluted soup, 
 Performs not well in those substantial things, 
 Whose mass adhesive to the metal clings; 
 Where the strong labial muscles must embrace, 
 The gentle curve, and sweep the hollow space. 
 With ease to enter and discharge the freight, 
 A bowl less concave, but still more dilate, 
 Becomes the pudding best. The shape, the size, 
 A secret rests, unknown to vulgar eyes. 
 Experienced feeders can alone impart 
 A rule so much above the lore of art. 
 These tuneful lips that thousand spoons have tried, 
 With just precision could the point decide. 
 Though not in song ; the muse but poorly shines 
 In cones, and cubes, and geometric lines; 
 Yet the true form, as near as she can tell, 
 Is that small section of a goose egg shell, 
 Which in two equal portions shall divide 
 The distance from the centre to the side. 
 
 Fear not to slaver; 'tis no deadly sin: =- 
 
 Like the free Frenchman, from your joyous cliin 
 
 Suspend the ready napkin ; or like me, 
 
 Piuse with one hand your bowl upon your knee ; 
 
 Just in the zenith your wise head project, 
 
 Your full spoon, rising in a line direct, 
 
 Bold as a bucket, heed no drops that fall, 
 
 The wide mouth'd bowl will surely catch them all!* 
 
 * The following note was added : — 
 
 "There are various ways of preparing and eating it; with 
 molasses, butter, sugar, cream, and fried. Why "so excel- 
 lent a thing cannot be eaten alone ? Nothing is perfect alone, 
 even man who boasts of so much perfection is nothing without 
 his follow substance. In eating, beware of the lurking heat 
 that lies deep in the mass; dip your spoon gently, take shallow 
 dips and cool it by degrees. It is sometimes necessary to blow. 
 This is indicated by certain signs which every experienced 
 feeder knows. They should be taught to young beginners. I 
 have known a child's toniruc blistered for "want of this atten- 
 tion, and then the schooldame would insist that the poor tiling 
 had told a lie. A mistake: the falsehood was in the faithless 
 pudding. A prudent mother will cool it fur herchild with her 
 own sweet breath. The husband, seeing this, pretends his own 
 wants blowing too from the same lips. A sly deceit of love. 
 
404 
 
 CYCLOP/EDIA OF AMERICAN LITER AT ERE. 
 
 JOHN MAESIIAIX. 
 
 Joitx Maiisiiall, the author of the Life of Wash- 
 ington, and the judicial basis of authority of the 
 Supreme Court of the United States, was one 
 of the vigorous natural growths of America, 
 which could sometimes out of the field of action 
 and the energies of the new state produce even 
 great lawyers — the product, according to Lord 
 Coke, of the vigils of twenty years — at much 
 shorter notice. Hamilton took his station at the 
 liar in almost a single step from the camp. Mar- 
 shall's education was that of a soldier. Both, 
 however, possessed what neither the Temple nor^ 
 Westminster Hall, Littleton nor Coke could con- 
 fer — the judicial mind. Nature had set in these 
 men the elements of the law, and whatever wind 
 that should blow, was to ripen them. 
 
 John Marshall was horn (the eldest of a family 
 of fifteen children) in Fauquier county, Virginia, 
 September 24, 1755. His father was a man of 
 character and ability, of limited education and 
 opportunities among the mountains of Virginia, 
 but of sufficient insight and sagacity to direct the 
 capacities of his son, whom he placed, at the age 
 of fourteen, under the charge of a clergyman, a 
 Mr. Campbell, at a considerable distance from his 
 home, receiving him back again at the end of a 
 year, to complete what book knowledge he was 
 to start in the world with, under the tuition of 
 another clergyman from Scotland, who had then 
 become guardian of the parish, and an inmate of 
 his father's house. This is one of many instances 
 in which the great minds of America received 
 their first discipline at the hands of the clergy. 
 At a somewhat later day, in Virginia, William 
 Wirt, another legal eminence, received his first 
 culture and generous love of learning at the 
 hands of a clergyman — the Rev. James Hunt, from 
 Princeton. James Madison wai educated by a 
 
 Sho knows the cheat, but feigning icrnoranco, tends her pouting 
 lips and srivcs a gentle blast, which warms the husband's heart 
 loore than it cools his rmdding." 
 
 clergyman, and also Legare. Hamilton in the 
 West Indies was taught, and sent to New York 
 by a clergyman, Dr. Knox, at Santa Cruz, and 
 two clergymen of that city, Drs. Rodgers and Ma- 
 son, received him on his arrival. In New Eng- 
 land it was the general rule. The clergyman was 
 the sun of the intellectual system in village, town- 
 ship, and city. John Adams, in his early life — 
 we may take him as a fair type of self-culture, 
 seizing upon all neighboring advantages — was al- 
 most as much a clerical growth as e, pupil of St. 
 doer's or the Propaganda. Throughout the 
 South, the clergyman was the pioneer of educa- 
 tion. This is a missionary influence which does 
 not suggest itself so prominently as it should to 
 the American of the present day. We are apt to 
 think of the clergyman only in his relation to the 
 pulpit, and confine our notions of his influence to 
 the family and the parish, in those concerns of 
 eternal welfare which are locked up in the priva- 
 cies of home and the heart. These spiritual rela- 
 tions have, indeed, the grandest and widest, 
 scope; but there are others which should not 
 be separated from them. The clergyman not 
 only sanctified and cemented the parish, but he 
 founded the state. It was his instruction which 
 moulded the soldier and the statesman. Living 
 among agriculturists remote from towns, where 
 language and literature would natural]}' be neglect- 
 ed and corrupted, in advance of the schoolmaster 
 and the school, he was the future college in embryo. 
 When we see men like Marshall graduating at his 
 right hand, with no other courses than the sim- 
 ple man of God who had left the refinements of 
 civilization for the wilderness taught, and with no 
 other diploma but his benediction, we may indeed 
 stop to honor their labors. Let the name of the 
 American missionary of the colonial and revolu- 
 tionary age suggest something more to the stu- 
 dent of our history than the limited notion of a 
 combatant with heathenism and vice. He was 
 also the companion and guide to genius and vir- 
 tue. When the memorials of those days are 
 written, let his name be recorded, in no insignifi- 
 cant or feeble letters, on the page with the great 
 men of the state whom his talents and presence 
 inspired. 
 
 Like his father, Marshall took part in the active 
 military service of the Revolutionary war, start- 
 ing in the action of the provincial militia of Vir- 
 ginia with Lord Dumnore at the Great Bridge. 
 He attained the rank of a Captain in 1777, and 
 was at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, 
 and Monmouth, continuing with his Virginia 
 company till the expiration of their term of ser- 
 vice. In the midst of these affairs he attained his 
 initiatory knowledge of law; was admitted to the 
 bar in 1780, and recalled at once to the field to 
 repel the invasion of Arnold. He rose rapidly in 
 his legal profession at the close of the war in 
 1782, when he was elected to the legislature of 
 his state, appearing in that assembly, from va- 
 rious constituencies, till 179(3. When the Con- 
 stitution of the United States was ratified in 1788 
 by the Virginia convention, he was a member of 
 that body, ably seconding its provisions. In 1797 
 he was minister to France, with Pinckney and 
 Gerry, in the unsuccessful attempt at negotiation 
 with the French Directory, when his native man- 
 liness and honor were brought in contact with 
 
JOHN MARSHALL". 
 
 40; 
 
 the mean and subtle policy of Talleyrand. Re- 
 turning to America the next year, he was elected 
 to Congress in 1799. His speech in the House 
 of Representatives, when the papers were called 
 for in the Robbing case, is one of the great land- 
 marks of Congressional debate. Robbins had 
 been a mutineer in the British navy ; had escaped" 
 to the United States ; betrayed his disguise at 
 Charleston ; been reclaimed under the British 
 treaty; surrendered by the administration; car- 
 ried off to Halifax; tried, and executed. Mar- 
 shall closed a long debate with a brilliant legal 
 vindication of the Government. It prepared his 
 way to the Chief-Justiceship of the Supreme 
 Court in 1801, the office with which his memory 
 is identified. In the authority and ability of his 
 decisions, extended over a period of thirty-five 
 years, he still exists in the life and action of the 
 Republic* 
 
 His latest memorialist, Benton, quotes John 
 Randolph's eulogy of his "native dignity and un- 
 pretending grace" in tins office, and adds this tri- 
 bute to the man and his manners : — " Be was 
 supremely fitted for high judicial station — a solid 
 judgment, great reasoning powers, acute and pe- 
 netrating mind ; with manners and habits to suit 
 the purity and the sanctity of the ermine ; atten- 
 tive, patient, laborious; grave on the bench, so- 
 cial in the intercourse of life; simple in his tastes, 
 and inexorably -just. Seen by a stranger come 
 into a room, and he would be taken for a modest 
 country gentleman, without claims to attention, 
 and ready to take the lowest place in company 
 or at table, and to act -his part without trouble 
 to anybody. Spoken to and closely observed, he 
 could be seen to be a gentleman of finished breed- 
 ing,- of winning and prepossessing talk, and just 
 as much mind as the- occasion required him to 
 show."t 
 
 In 1805 appeared his Life of Washington, in 
 five octavo volumes.J As a narrative it is faith- 
 ful and conscientious, and it relies on valuable 
 original material, the writer having had access to 
 the papers of the family. 
 
 Marshall died in office, at Philadelphia, July G, 
 183-3, having, shortly previous to his death, borne 
 with characteristic fortitude a painful and tem- 
 porarily successful operation for the stone. As 
 the patient was nearly eighty years of age, this is 
 one of the remarkable cases of medical science. 
 
 A courteous and intelligent English traveller in 
 the United States, the Hon. Charles Augustus 
 Murray, has given us a pleasing picture of Mar- 
 shal], as ho appeared at Richmond in 1835, a few 
 months before his death : — " A tall, venerable 
 man ; his hair tied in a cue, according to olden 
 custom, and with a countenance indicating that 
 
 * In 1S39. an octavo volume of Marshall's leading decisions 
 in the Supreme Court was published in Boston — --The Writ- 
 ings of John Marshall, late Chief Justice of the UDited States, 
 upon the Federal Constitution, 1 ' 
 
 t Thirty Years 1 View, by a Senator, i. GS1. 
 
 t The Life of George Washington, Commander-in-chief of 
 the American forces, during the war which established the in- 
 dependence of his country, and fl:'st President of the United 
 States: compiled under the inspection of the Honourable 
 Bushrod Washington, from original papers bequeathed to him 
 by his deceased relative, and now in possession of the author, 
 to which is prefixed an Introduction, containing a compen- 
 dious view of the Colonies planted by the English on the Con- 
 tinent of North America, from the settlement to the. com- 
 mencement of that war which terminated in their Indepen- 
 dence. By John -Marshall, Philadelphia 
 
 simplicity of mind and benignity which so emi- 
 nently distinguish his character. I had the plea- 
 sure of several long conversations with him, and 
 
 . was struck with admiration at the extraordinary 
 union of modesty and power, gentleness and force 
 
 ! which his mind displays. His house is small, and 
 more humble in appearance than those of the 
 average of successful lawyers or merchants. I 
 called three times upon him ; there is no bell to 
 the door; once I turned the handle of it, and 
 walked in unannounced; on the other two occa- 
 sions he had seen me coming, and lifted the hitch 
 and received me at the door, although he was at 
 the time suffering from some very severe contu- 
 sions received in the stage while travelling on the 
 
 I road from Fredericksburg to Richmond. I verily 
 
 i believe there is not a particle of vanity in his 
 composition, unless it be of that venial and hospi- 
 
 | table nature which induces him to pride himself 
 on giving to his friends the best glass of Madeira 
 in Virginia."* 
 
 Anecdotes of the simplicity of Marshall are 
 numerous. On one occasion, as the story has 
 
 I been related to us, at the old market at Rich- 
 mond, meeting a would-be exquisite, and hear- 
 ing him call for some one to take a turkey 
 which he had purchased home for him, he hu- 
 morously offered himself. He was in his usual 
 plain dress, and the gentleman, taking him for a 
 countryman, accepted his services. The judge 
 carried the turkey home, and actually received a 
 shilling for his services, which proved a very 
 costly retainer to the young man, in the amount 
 of chagrin he endured, when he found that his 
 porter was the Chief-Justice of the United States. 
 He added to his rustic appearance with his home- 
 spun dress and yarn stockings, on some occasions, 
 by coining into court covered with the burrs 
 caught in riding through the woods from his 
 farm on his little p'ony. 
 
 His favorite haunt at Richmond was Bucha- 
 nan's spring, just on the edge of town, where he 
 used to go with the club of which he was a 
 member, pitch quoits, drink juleps, and dispute 
 about the technicalities of the game with the' 
 zest of a boy. The club still survives, rich in 
 these traditions.! 
 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 la the sober language of reality, without attempt- 
 ing to deck a figure wick ornaments or with qualities 
 borrowed from the imagination, a person who has 
 had some opportunity to observe him while living, 
 and who since his decease has most assiduously in- 
 spected his private and public papers, will endeavour 
 faithfully to give the impressions which lie has him- 
 self received. 
 
 General Washington was rather above the com-* 
 moil size, his frame was robust, and his constitution 
 vigorous — capable of enduring great fatigue, and 
 requiring a considerable degree of exercise for tin; 
 preservation of his health. His exterior created in 
 the beholder the idea of strength united with manly 
 gracefulness. 
 
 His manners were rather reserved than free, 
 
 * Travels in North America during the years IS34-5-6, ch. 
 i.v. 
 
 tArt Encyclopedia Americana. Supplementary Volume. 
 Life bv Story, American Portrait Gallery, and Discourse be- 
 fore the Suffolk Bar. 1S35. Sketch and Eulogy by Horace 
 Binney, Philadelphia, 1SCS. George Vau Santvoord's Lives of 
 Chief Justices, ISoi. 
 
406 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 though they partook nothing of thnt dryness and 
 sternness "which accompany reserve "when carried to 
 an extreme; and on all proper occasions, he could 
 relax sufficiently to show how highly he was grati- 
 fied by the charms of conversation, ami the pleasures 
 of society. His person and whole deportment ex- 
 hibited an unaffected and indescribable dignity, im- 
 mingled with haughtiness, of which all who ap- 
 proached him were sensible ; and the attachment of 
 those who possessed his friendship and enjoyed his 
 intimacy, was ardent but always respectful 
 
 His temper was humane, benevolent, and con- 
 ciliatory ; but there was a quickness in his sensi- 
 bility to any thing apparently offensive, which ex- 
 perience had taught him to watch and to correct. 
 
 In the management of his private affairs, he 
 exhibited an exact yet liberal economy. His funds 
 were not prodigally wasted on capricious and ill 
 examined schemes, nor refused to beneficial though 
 costly improvements. They remained therefore 
 competent to that expensive establishment which 
 his reputation, added to a hospitable temper, had in 
 some measure imposed upon him, and to those 
 donations which real distress has a right to claim 
 from opulence. 
 
 He made no pretensions to that vivacity which 
 fascinates, or to that wit which dazzles, and frequently 
 imposes on the understanding. More solid than 
 brilliant, judgment rather than genius constituted 
 the most prominent feature of his character. 
 
 As a military man, he was brave, enterprising, 
 and cautious. That malignity which has sought to 
 strip hirn of all the higher qualities of a general, 
 has conceded to him personal courage, and a firm- 
 ness of resolution] which neither dangers nor diffi- 
 culties could shake. But candour will allow him 
 other great and valuable endowments. If his mili- 
 tary course does not abound with splendid achieve- 
 ments, it exhibits a series of judicious measures 
 adapted to circumstances, which probably saved his 
 country. 
 
 Placed, without having studied the theory, or 
 been taught in the school of experience, the practice 
 of war, at the head of an undisciplined, ill-organized 
 multitude, which was unused to the restraints and 
 unacquainted with the ordinary duties of a camp, 
 without the aid of officers . possessing those lights 
 which the commander-in-chief was yet to acquire, it 
 would have been a miracle indeed had his conduct 
 been absolutely faultless. But, possessing an ener- 
 getic and distinguishing mind, on which the lessons 
 of experience were never lost, his errors, if he com- 
 mitted an}', were quickly repaired ; and those 
 measures which the state of things rendered most 
 advisable, were seldom if ever neglected. Inferior 
 to bis adversary in the numbers, in the equipment, 
 and in the discipline of his troops, it is evidence of 
 real merit that no great or decisive advantages were 
 ever obtained over him, and that the opportunity to 
 strike an important blow never passed away unused. 
 He has been termed the American Fabius ; but those 
 •who compare his actions with his means, will per- 
 ceive at least as much of Marcellus as of Fabius in 
 his character. He could not have been more enter- 
 prising without endangering the cause he defended, 
 nor have put more to hazard, without incurring 
 justly the imputation of rashness. Not relying upon 
 those chances which sometimes give a favourable 
 issue to attempts apparently desperate, his conduct 
 was regulated by calculations made upon the capa- 
 cities of his army, and the real situation of his 
 country. When called a second time to command 
 the armies of the United states, a change of circum- 
 stances had taken place, and he meditated a cor- 
 responding change of conduct. In modelling the 
 
 army of 1798, he sought for men distinguished for 
 their boldness of execution, not less than for their 
 prudence in counsel, and contemplated a system of 
 continued attack. "The enemy," said the general 
 in his private letters, " must never be permitted to 
 gain foothold on our shores." 
 
 In his civil administration, as in his military 
 career; were exhibited ample and repeated proofs 
 of that practical good sense, of that sound judgment 
 which is perhaps the most rare, and is certainly the 
 most valuable quality of the human mind. Devot- 
 ing himself to the duties of his station, and pursuing 
 no object distinct from the public good, he was ac- 
 customed to contemplate at a distance those critical 
 situations in which the United States might pro- 
 bably be placed ; and to digest, before the occasion 
 required action, the line of conduct which it would 
 be proper to observe. Taught to distrust first im- 
 pressions, he sought to acquire all the information 
 which was attainable, and to hear, without pre- 
 judice, all the reasons which could be urged for or 
 against a particular measure. His own judgment wae 
 suspended until it became necessary to determine, 
 and his decisions, thus maturely made, were seldom 
 if ever to be shaken. His conduct therefore was 
 systematic, and the great objects of his administra- 
 tion were steadily pursued. 
 
 Respecting, as the first magistrate in a free govern- 
 ment must ever do, the real and deliberate senti- 
 ments of the people, their gusts of passion passed 
 over without ruffling the smooth surface of his 
 mind. Trusting to the reflecting good sense of the 
 nation for approbation and support, lie had the mag- 
 nanimity to pursue its real interests in opposition to 
 its temporary prejudices ; and, though far from 
 being regardless of popular favour, he could never 
 stoop to retain by deserving to lose it. In more 
 instances than one, we find him committing his 
 whole popularity to hazard, and pursuing steadily, 
 in opposition to a torrent which would ha.ve over- 
 whelmed a man of ordinary firmness, that course 
 which had been dictated by a sense of dut}'. 
 
 In speculation, he was a real republican, devoted 
 to the constitution of his country, and to that 
 system of equal political rights on which it is 
 founded. But between a balanced republic and a 
 democracy, the difference is like that between order 
 and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be pre- 
 served only by preserving the authority of the 
 laws, and maintaining the energy of government. 
 Scarcely did society present two characters which, 
 in his opinion, less resembled each other than a ' 
 patriot and a demagogue. 
 
 No man has ever appeared upon the theatre, of 
 public action whose integrity was more incorrup- 
 tible, or whose principles were more perfectly free 
 from the contamination of those selfish and un- 
 worthy passions which find their nourishment in the 
 conflicts of party. Having no views which re- 
 quired concealment, his real and avowed motives 
 were the same ; and his whole correspondence does 
 not furnish a single ease from which even an enemy 
 would infer that he was capable, under any circum- 
 stances, of stooping to the employment of duplicity. 
 No truth can be uttered with more confidence than 
 that his ends were always upright, and his means 
 always pure. He exhibits the rare example of a 
 politician to whom wiles were absolutely unknown, 
 and whose professions to foreign governments and 
 to his own countrymen were always sincere. In him 
 was fully exemplified the real distinction "which for 
 ever exists between wisdom and cunning, and the 
 importance as well as truth of the maxim, that 
 " honesty is the best policy." 
 
 If Washington possessed ambition, that passion 
 
AAEON BANCROFT. 
 
 407 
 
 was, in his bosom, so regulated by principles, or 
 controlled by circumstances, that it was neither 
 vicious nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed 
 as the mean of its gratification, nor was personal 
 aggrandizement its object. The various high and 
 important stations to which he was called by the 
 public voice were unsought by himself; and in con- 
 senting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded 
 to a general conviction that the interests of his 
 country would be thereby promoted, than to his par- 
 ticular inclination. 
 
 Neither the»extraordinary partiality of the Ameri- 
 can people, the extravagant praises which were 
 bestowed upon him, nor the inveterate opposition 
 and malignant calumnies which he experienced, had 
 any visible influence upon his conduct. The cause 
 is to be looked for in the texture of his mind. 
 . In him, that innate and unassuming modesty 
 which adulation would have offended, which the 
 voluntary plaudits of millions could not betray into 
 indiscretion, and which never obtruded upon others 
 his claims to superior consideration, was happily 
 blended with a high and correct sense of personal 
 dignity, and with a just consciousness of that respect 
 which is due to station. Without exertion, he could 
 maintain the happy medium between that arrogance 
 which wounds, and that facility which allows the 
 office to be degraded in the person who fills it. 
 
 It is impossible to contemplate the great events 
 which have occurred in tiie United States under the 
 auspices of Washington, without ascribing them, in 
 some measure, to him. If we ask the causes of the 
 prosperous issue of a war, against the successful 
 termination of which there were so man}' probabili- 
 ties? of the good which was produced, and the ill 
 which was avoided during an administration fated 
 to contend \vi h the strongest prejudices that a com- 
 bination of circumstances and of passions could pro- 
 duce '! of the constant favour of the great mass of 
 )iis fellow-citizens, and of the confidence which, to 
 the last moment of his life, they reposed in him? the 
 answer, so far as these causes may be found in his 
 character, will furnish a lesson well meriting the 
 attention of those who are candidates for political 
 fame. 
 
 Endowed by nature with a sound judgment, and 
 an accurate discriminating mind, he feared not that 
 laborious attention which made him perfectly master 
 of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he 
 was to decide : and this essential quality was guided 
 by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would 
 tolerate the employment only of those means that 
 would bear the most rigid examination ; by a fairness 
 of intention which neither sought nor required dis- 
 guise: and by a purity of virtue which was not 
 ouly untainted, but unsuspected. 
 
 AAEON BANCROFT 
 Was born at Reading, Massachusetts, November 
 10, 1735. His father was a farmer, and the son 
 assisted him in the intervals of his hurried studies 
 with the migratory school of the district. He 
 entered Harvard in 1774, and succeeded in the 
 midst of the revolutionary difficulties in getting 
 his degree in 1788. He became a clergyman, and 
 in 1780 accepted a call to Yarmouth, Nova Sco- 
 tia, with the consent of the executive council of 
 
 177 
 
 4- 
 
 <*& 
 
 O £i^y^^ e^-ef ', 
 
 Massachusetts. On his return in 1783, he was en- 
 gaged in Connecticut and his native state in preach- 
 
 ing, forming a permanent connexion with a congre- 
 gational society at Worcester, in 1785. He pub- 
 lished a great number of sermons and addresses.* 
 Many of these are on topics of religious educa- 
 tion. He also took an active part in the affairs 
 of his town, in the improvement of secular in- 
 struction, His Life of Washington, a narrative 
 written with ease ami simplicity, mainly based on 
 the work of Marshall, in which he led the way 
 for the pursuits of his son the historian, was pub- 
 lished at Worcester in an octavo volume, in 1807. 
 He delivered, on the 81st January, 1836, a dis- 
 course on the fifty years of his ministry at 
 Worcester, which has been printed with historical 
 notes. John Adams admired his Sermons on the 
 Doctrines of the Gospel. In 1823, he acknow- 
 ledges "the gift of a precious volume. It is a 
 chain of diamonds set in links of gold. I have 
 never read, nor heard read, a volume of sermons 
 better calculated and adapted to the age and coun- 
 try in which it was written." 
 
 Dr. Bancroft died at Worcester, in his eighty- 
 fifth year, August 19, 1840. 
 
 GEOBGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 General Washington was exactly six feet in height ; 
 he appeared taller, as his shoulders rose a little 
 higher than the true proportion. His eyes were of 
 a gray, and his hair of a brown color. His limbs 
 were well formed, and indicated strength. His com- 
 plexion was light, and his countenance serene and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 His manners were graceful, manly, and dignified. 
 His general appearance never failed to engage the 
 respect and esteem of all who approached him. 
 
 Possessing strong natural passions, and having the 
 nicest feelings of honor, he was in early life prone 
 keenly to resent practices which carried the intention 
 of abuse or insult ; but the reflections of maturer ago 
 gave Iiim the most perfect government of himself, 
 lie possessed a faculty above all other men to hide 
 the weaknesses inseparable from human nature ; and 
 he bore with meekness and equanimity his distin- 
 guished honors. 
 
 Reserved, but not haughty, in his disposition, he 
 was accessible to all in concerns of business, but he 
 opened himself ouly to his confidential friends ; and 
 no art or address could draw from him an opinion, 
 which he thought prudent to conceal. 
 
 He was not so much distinguished for brilliancy 
 of genius as for solidity of judgment, and consum- 
 mate prudence of conduct. He was not so eminent 
 for any one quality of greatness and worth, as for 
 the union of those great, amiable, and good quali- 
 ties, which are very rarely combined in the same 
 character. 
 
 His maxims were- formed upon the result of ma- 
 ture reflection, or extensive experience ; they were 
 the invariable rules of his practice ; and on all im- 
 portant instances, he seemed to have an intuitive 
 view of what the occasion rendered fit and proper. 
 He pursued his purposes with a resolution, which, 
 one solitary moment excepted, never failed him. 
 
 Alive to social pleasures, he delighted to enter 
 into familiar conversation with his acquaintance, and 
 was sometimes sportive in his letters to his friends ; 
 but he never lost sight of the dignity of his charac- 
 ter, nor deviated from the decorous and appropriate 
 behaviour becoming his station in society. 
 
 * Thirty-five are enumerated in the notice of his life from 
 wbicb these tacts are taken, in Lincoln's Uistory of "Worcester, 
 p. 213. 
 
408 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 He commanded from al] the most respectful atten- 
 tion, and no man in bis company ever fell into light 
 or lewd conversation. His stjTe of living corres- 
 ponded with his wealth; but his extensive establish- 
 ment was managed with the strictest economy, and 
 he ever reserved ample funds liberally to promote 
 Bchemes of private benevolence, and works of pub- 
 lic utility. Punctual himself to every engagement, 
 he exacted from others a strict fulfilment of con- 
 tracts, but to the necessitous he was diffusive' in his 
 charities, and he greatly assisted the poorer classes 
 of people in his vicinity, by furnishing them with 
 means successfully to prosecute plans of industry. 
 
 In domestic and private life, he blended the au- 
 thority of the master with the care and kindness of 
 the guardian and friend. Solicitous for the welfare 
 of his slaves, while at Mount Vernon, lie every 
 morning rode round his estates to examine their 
 condition ; for the sick, physicians were provided, 
 and to the weak and infirm every necess.'iry comfort 
 was administered. The servitude of the negroes 
 lay with weight upon his mind ; he often made it 
 the subject of conversation, and revolved several 
 plans for their general emancipation ; but could 
 devise none, which promised success, in consistency 
 with humanity to them, and safety to the state. 
 
 The address presented to him at Alexandria, on 
 the commencement of his presidency, fully shows 
 how much he was endeared to his neighbors, and 
 the affection and esteem in which his friends held 
 his private character. 
 
 His industry was unremitted, and his method so 
 exact, that all the complicated business of his mili- 
 tary command, and civil administration, was man- 
 aged without confusion, and without hurry. 
 
 Not feeling the lust of power, and ambitious only 
 for honorable fame, he devoted himself to his coun- 
 try upon the most disinterested principles : and his 
 actions wore not the semblance but the reality of 
 virtue: the purity of his motives was accredited, 
 and absolute confidence placed in his patriotism. 
 
 While filling a public station, the performance of 
 his duty took the place of pleasure, emolument, and 
 every private consideration. Luring the more criti- 
 cal years of the war, a smile was scarcely seen upon 
 his countenance ; he gave himself no moments of 
 relaxation ; but his whole mind was engrossed to exe- 
 cute successfully his trust. 
 
 As a mili tary commander, he struggled with in- 
 numerable embarrassments, arising from the short 
 enlistment of his men, and from the want of provi- 
 sions, clothing, arms, and ammunition ; and an 
 opinion of his achievements should be formed in 
 view of these inadequate means. 
 
 The first years of his civil administration were 
 attended with the extraordinary fact, that while a 
 great proportion of his countrymen did not approve 
 his measures, they universally venerated his charac- 
 ter, and relied implicitly on his integrity. Although 
 his opponents eventually deemed it expedient to 
 vilify his character, that they might diminish his 
 political influence; yet the moment that he retired 
 from public life, they returned to their expressions 
 of veneration and esteem ; and after his death used 
 every endeavor to secure to their party the influ- 
 ence of ids name. 
 
 He was as eminent for piety as for patriotism. His 
 public and private conduct evince, that he impres- 
 sively felt a sense of the superintendence of God and 
 of the dependence of man. In his addresses, while 
 at the head of the army, and of the national govern- 
 ment, he gratefully noticed the signal blessings of 
 Providence, and fervently commended his country 
 to divine benediction. In private, he was known to 
 have been habitually devout. 
 
 In principle and practice he was a Christian. The 
 support of an Episcopal church, in the vicinity of 
 Mount Vernon, rested principally upon him, and 
 here, when on his estate, he with constancy attend- 
 ed public worship. In his address to the American 
 people, at the close of the war, mentioning the 
 favorable period of the world at which the inde- 
 pendence of his country was established, and enu- 
 merating the causes which unitedly had ameliorated 
 the condition of human society, he, above science, 
 philosophy, commerce, and all other considerations, 
 ranked" the pure and benign light of Revelation.'" 
 Supplicating Heaven that his fellow citizens might 
 cultivate the disposition, and practise the virtues, 
 which exalt a community, he presented the follow- 
 ing petition to his God : That he would most gra- 
 ciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to 
 love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that 
 charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind, which 
 were the characteristics of the Dicine Author of 
 our blessed religion; without a humble imitation of 
 whose example in these things, we can never hope 
 to be a happy nation. 
 
 During the war, he not unfrequently rode ten or 
 twelve miles from camp to attend public worship; 
 and he never omitted this attendance, when oppor- 
 tunity presented. 
 
 In the establishment of his presidential household, 
 he reserved to himself the Sabbath, free from the 
 interruptions of private visits, or public business; 
 and throughout the eight years of his civil adminis- 
 tration, he gave to the institutions of Christianity 
 the influence of his example. 
 
 He was as fortunate as great and good. 
 
 Under his auspices, a civil war was conducted with 
 mildness, and a revolution with order. . Raised him- 
 self above the influence of popular passions, he hap- 
 pily directed these passions to the most useful pur- 
 poses. • Uniting the talents of the soldier with the 
 qualifications of the statesman, and pursuing, un- 
 moved by difficulties, the noblest end by the purest 
 means, he had the supreme satisfaction of beholding 
 the complete success of his great military and civil 
 services, in the independence and happiness of his 
 country. 
 
 HAXNAH ADAMS. 
 
 The life of this lad}' presents an admirable exam- 
 ple of self-reliance and perseverance. She was 
 probably the first woman in the country to 
 devote herself to a literary life, and this, too, at a 
 time when the temptations such a career could 
 offer, to either sex, were insignificant, either in 
 view of fame or gain. 
 
 Hannah Adams was horn at Medfield, near 
 Boston, in 1756. Her father was a man of edu- 
 cation, who endeavored to procure the means of 
 support from a small country store. To the use 
 of the books which- constituted — the calls of his 
 customers being taken as a standard — an undue 
 proportion of his stock, his daughter attributed 
 her early taste for literature: She was a diligent 
 student, although ill health rendered her attend- 
 ance at school extremely irregular. She obtained 
 from some young divinity students, who boarded 
 at her father's house, a knowledge of Greek and 
 Latin, and from a small manuscript, containing an 
 account of Arminians, Calvinists, and a few other 
 leading denominations, in the possession of one of 
 these, the hint of her first work, the View of Re- 
 ligious Opinions. 
 
 She had lost her mother at the early age of ten 
 years, and the ill success of her father in bust- 
 
HENRY LEE. 
 
 400 
 
 ness threw the family on their own resources. 
 " During the American Revolutionary war," she 
 informs us in her admirable little autobiography, 
 " I learned to weave bobbin laee, which was then 
 saleable, and much more profitable to me than 
 spinning, sewing, or knitting, which had pre- 
 viously been my employment. At this period, I 
 found but little time for literary pursuits. But at 
 the termination of the American war, this re- 
 source failed, and I was again left in a destitute 
 situation." Thus circumstanced, she commenced 
 the View of Religious Opinions, giving instruc- 
 tions in Greek and Latin at the same time to 
 three young students of theology in the neigh- 
 borhood. Her " View," after various difficulties 
 in finding a printer, was published in 1784. It 
 met with a good sale, of which the printer reaped 
 the profit. A second edition, enlarged and cor- 
 rected, was published in 1791, which by the aid 
 of friends, who made her bargain witli the pub- 
 lisher and exerted themselves in obtaining sub- 
 scribers for copies, was so successful, that, as she 
 says, "the emolument I derived from it not only 
 placed me in a comfortable situation, but enabled 
 me to pay the debts I had contracted during mine 
 and my sister's illness, and to put out a small sum 
 at interest." 
 
 Her next undertaking was a History of New 
 England, in the preparation for which she 
 pored so assiduously over old colonial records 
 and other dim manuscripts, as to seriously impair 
 her eyesight. By a cessation from labor, and 
 frequent use of " laudanum and sea water several 
 times in the course of the day, for two years," 
 she recovered, and by employing an amanuensis, 
 was enabled to print the book in 1709. 
 
 Her history meeting with a good sale, she 
 formed the plan of abridging it for the use of 
 schools. Before doing this, she "set about 
 wiiting a concise view of the Christian religion, 
 selected from the writings of eminent laymen." 
 "I found it difficult," she continues, "to procure 
 proper materials for the work, as I was utterly 
 unable to purchase books. A considerable part 
 of this compilation, as well as the additions to the 
 third edition of my View of Religions, was writ- 
 ten in booksellers' shops. I went to make visits 
 in Boston, in order to consult books in this waj T , 
 Which it was impossible for me to buy or bor- 
 row." These difficulties, so simply narrated that 
 we almost lose sight of their formidableness, sur- 
 mounted, and the manuscript completed, others 
 followed with publishers, and she was glad at last 
 t i sell the copyright for one hundred dollars in 
 books. 
 
 Her abridged History of New England was an- 
 ticipated by a work of a similar character by the 
 Rev. Jedidiah Morse, author of the first Ameri- 
 can geography. Tins led to a controversy which 
 excited much attention and warmth of feeling. 
 Her book,'when.it appeared, unfortunately brought 
 her no remuneration, on account of the failure of 
 her printer. Her personal and literary merits 
 had, however, by this time gained her many and 
 influential friends, among whom President Adams 
 was preeminent in rank and kindness, and by 
 their aid she was enabled to supply her simple 
 wants and prosecute her studies. 
 
 The labor to which she next devoted herself, 
 was a History of the Jews. This subject engaged 
 
 all her attention. "If you would know Miss 
 Adams," said one of her friends, " you must talk 
 to her about the Jews." She corresponded with 
 the Abbe Gregoire upon the subject, and consult- 
 ed every authority to which she could obtain 
 access. In this last respect, her resources were 
 less limited than at previous periods of her life, 
 as she had free access to the Boston Athenteum, 
 and the library of her friend the Rev. J. S. Buck- 
 minster. Her failing health, however, prevented 
 the completion of her work. 
 
 In the latter years of her life, Miss Adams en- 
 joyed a comfortable annuity raised by her friends. 
 She died at Brookline, near Boston, 1832. Her 
 autobiography, with a continuation by a friend, 
 Mrs. H. F. Lee, was published in the same year.* 
 
 HENEY LEE. 
 Hestjy Lee, the author of the Memoirs of the 
 War in the Southern Dejjartment of the United 
 States, was a member of a leading family in Vir- 
 ginia, where he was born, January 29, 1756. He 
 was educated at Princeton College. 
 
 In 1776 he was made captain of one of the six 
 companies of cavalry raised by Virginia. In Sep- 
 tember, 1777, these companies formed into one 
 regiment were united with the Continental army. 
 
 Lee soon gained distinction by the high state 
 of discipline and efficiency he maintained in his 
 company, which at the battle x>f Gennantown 
 was selected by Washington as his body-guard. 
 In January, 1778, when occupying with ten men ' 
 a stone house, the rest of his troop being absent 
 in search of forage, the building was surrounded 
 by two hundred of the enemy's cavalry, who en- 
 deavored to take him prisoner, but were met with 
 so determined a resistance that they were com- 
 pelled to retreat. He was soon after this promot- 
 ed to the rank of major, with the command of 
 three companies of cavalry; and in 1780, having 
 been made lieutenant-colonel, was sent with his. 
 
 * A Memoir of Miss Tlannah Adams, written by herself, 
 with additional notices by a friend. Boston, Gray ci liowen. 
 1S32. 12mo. pp. 110. 
 
410 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 troops to join the southern army under Gene- 
 ral Greene, where he remained until the close of 
 the war, distinguishing himself in several actions. 
 
 In 1786 he was sent to Congress, where he 
 remained until the new constitution went into 
 operation. In 1792, having previously served in 
 the house of delegates and the convention for the 
 ratification of the federal Constitution, he was 
 elected governor of Virginia. In the last of his 
 three years of office, he was placed by President 
 Washington in command of the forces sent to the 
 western part of Pennsylvania to suppress the 
 Whiskey Insurrection. In 1799 he was sent to 
 Congress. 
 
 He was honorably distinguished by this body 
 in being selected to deliver the funeral eulogy on 
 Washington, in the course of winch the memora- 
 ble sentence, " First in war, first in peace, and 
 first in the hearts of his countrymen," occurs. 
 
 Lee remained in Congress until the accession 
 of Jefferson in 1801, after which he did not 
 again hold public office. 
 
 His profuse hospitality involved him in pecuni- 
 ary embarrassment, which, however disagreeable 
 to himself, proved advantageous to the public, as 
 during and probably in consequence of his •con- 
 finement as a debtor,* within the bounds of 
 Spottsylvania county, in 1809, he wrote his cele- 
 brated memoirs. They were published without 
 any preface in two octavo volumes, by Bradford 
 and Inskeep, Philadelphia. In July, 1812, while 
 in Baltimore, Lee took part in the defence of the 
 house occupied by Mr. Hanson, one of the editors 
 of the Federal Republican. This paper had 
 shortly before published strictures on the declara- 
 tion of war of June 19, and its office had in conse- 
 quence been attacked by a mob, who destroyed 
 the printing materials and building. The publi- 
 cation of the paper was soon after resumed in 
 Georgetown, and the numbers distributed from a 
 house in Baltimore. Anticipating an attack, 
 Hanson had provided arms and been joined by 
 General Greene, General Lingan, John How- 
 ard Payne, and others. The mob on the even- 
 ing of the 27th attempted to force the door. 
 Muskets were fired during the confusion, by 
 which two persons were killed and several 
 wounded. The military appeared, and the occu- 
 pants of the house surrendered on promise of 
 being protected within the city prison. On the 
 following night the prison was attacked by the 
 mob, who succeeded in effecting an entrance, 
 killed Lingan and wounded eleven others, among 
 whom was General Lee. Some of the rioters 
 were arrested, tried, and acquitted. In conse- 
 quence of the injuries thus received, the Gene- 
 ral's health declined. A visit to the West Indies 
 proved of no benefit to him, and he returned to 
 the United States in 1818, where he died on the 
 25th of March, at the residence of Mrs. Shaw, 
 the daughter of General Greene, Cumberland 
 Island, near St. Mary's, Georgia. 
 
 Lee's memoirs were reprinted in 1827 at Wa-h- 
 
 * A story is told, that, having been arrested for debt, as lie 
 •was riding along with the sheriff, he remarked, that he was 
 glad that lie was on his way to a place of confinement, since 
 having been bitten by a mad dog he needed to be taken care 
 of. Soon after this introduction of the subject, he assumed 
 such energetic symptoms of mania that the official made off ia 
 hot haste.— Allen's Biog. I)ic. 
 
 ington. The editor, H. Lee, in a brief preface, 
 acknowledged the assistance of friends in pro- 
 viding for the expenses of the edition. Such aid 
 should not have been needed, for the work, in ad- 
 dition to its historical value as the testimony of 
 a prominent actor, is valuable on account of' its 
 literary merit as a life-like and spirited narrative. 
 It is plain in style, and the want of dates renders 
 it somewhat inconvenient in the absence of an 
 index for reference. 
 
 One of the most valuable and interesting por- 
 tions of the book is the minute narrative of the gal- 
 lant attempt of Sergeant Champe to carry off Ar- 
 nold from New York, after the detection of his 
 treason, an object Washington was anxious to 
 accomplish, from a humane desire to save Andre. 
 Champe undertook the service at the request of 
 Lee, who overcame the sergeant's scruples to de- 
 sertion from the American army, a course essen- 
 tial to preserve secresy. He was instructed to 
 obtain possession of Arnold if possible, but under 
 no circumstances to take his life. 
 
 ciiampe's expedition. 
 
 Giving to the sergeant three guineas, and present- 
 ing his best wishes, Lee recommended him to start 
 without delay, and enjoined him to communicate his 
 arrival in New York as soon thereafter as might be 
 practicable. Champe pulling out his watch, com- 
 pared it with the major's, reminding the latter of 
 the importance of holding back pursuit, which iie 
 was convinced would take place in the course of the 
 night, and which might be fatal, as he knew that he 
 should be obliged to zigzag in order to avoid the 
 patrol'es, which would consume time. It was now 
 nearly eleven. The sergeant returned to camp, and 
 taking his clonk, valise and orderly book, he drew 
 his horse from the picket, and mounting him put 
 himself upon fortune. Lee, charmed with his expe- 
 ditious consummation of the first part of the enter- 
 prise, retired to rest. Useless attempt! the past 
 scene could not be obliterated ; and, indeed, had 
 that, been practicable, the interruption which ensued 
 would have stopped repose. 
 
 Within half an hour Captain Carnes, officer of 
 the day, waited upon the major, and with conside- 
 rable emotion told him that one of the pntrole had 
 fallen in with a dragoon, who, being challenged, 
 put spur to his horse and escaped, though instantly 
 pursued. Lee complaining of the interruption, and 
 pretending to be extremely fatigued b} - his ride to 
 and from headquarters, answered as if he did not 
 understand what had been said, which compelled the 
 captain to repeat it. Who can the fellow that was 
 pursued be ? inquired the major; adding, a coun- 
 tryman, probably. No, replied the captain, the pa- 
 trole sufficiently distinguished him as to know that 
 he was a dragoon ; probably one from the army, if 
 not certainly one of our own. This idea was ridi- 
 culed from its improbability, as during the whole 
 war but a single dragoon had deserted from the 
 legion. This did not convince Carnes, so much 
 stress was it now the fashion to lay on the desertion 
 of Arnold, and the probable effect of his example. 
 The captain withdrew to examine the squadron of 
 horse, whom he had ordered to assemble in pursu- 
 ance of established usage on similar occasions. Yery 
 quickly he returned, stating that the scoundrel was 
 known, and was no less a person than the sergeant- 
 major, who had gone off with his horse, baggage, 
 arms and orderly book — so presumed, as neither the 
 one nor the other could be found. Sensibly affected 
 at the supposed baseness of a soldier extremely re- 
 
HENRY LEE. 
 
 411 
 
 spected, the captain added that he had ordered a 
 party to make ready for pursuit, and begged the 
 major's written orders. 
 
 Occasionally this discourse was interrupted, and 
 every idea suggested which the excellent character 
 of the sergeant warranted, to induce the suspicion 
 that he had not deserted, but had taken the liberty 
 to leave cam)) with a view to personal pleasure : an 
 example, said Lee, too often set by the officers them- 
 selves, destructive as it was of discipline, opposed 
 as it was to orders, and disastrous as it might prove 
 to the corps in the course of service. 
 
 Some little delay was thus interposed ; but it 
 being now announced that the pursuing party was 
 ready, major Lee directed a change in the officer, 
 saying that lie had a particular service in view, 
 Avhich he had determine I to entrust to the lieutenant 
 ready for duty, and which probably mus,t be per- 
 formed in the morning. He therefore directed him 
 to summon cornet Middleton for the present com- 
 mand. Lee was induced thus to act, first to add to 
 the delay, and next from his knowledge of the tender- 
 ness of Middletou's disposition, which he hoped 
 Would lead to the protection of Champe should he 
 be taken. Within ten minutes Middleton appeared 
 to receive his orders, which were delivered to him 
 made out in the customary form, and signed by the 
 major. " Pursue so far as you can with safety ser- 
 geant Champe, who is suspected of deserting to the 
 enemy, and has taken the road leading to Paulus 
 Hook. Bring him alive, that he may suffer in the 
 presence of the army ; but kill him if he resists, or 
 escapes after being taken." 
 
 Detaining the cornet a few minutes longer in ad- 
 vising him what course to pursue, — urging him to 
 take care of the horse and accoutrements, if reco- 
 vered, — and enjoining him to be on his guard, lest he 
 might, by his eager pursuit, improvideutly fall into 
 the hands of the enemy, — the major dismissed Mid- 
 dleton, wishing him success. A shower of rain fell 
 soon after Champc's departure, which enabled the 
 pursuing dragoons to take the trail of his horse ; 
 knowing, as officer and trooper did, the make of 
 their shoes, whose impression was an unerring 
 guide.* 
 
 When Middleton departed, it was a few minutes 
 past twelve ; so that Champe had only the start of 
 rather more than an hour, — by no means as long as 
 was desired. Lee became very unhappy, not only 
 because the estimable and gallant Champe might be 
 injured, but lest the enterprise might be delayed: 
 and he spent a sleepless night. The pursuing party 
 during the night, was, on their part, delayed by the 
 necessary halts to examine occasionally the road, as 
 the impression of the horse's shoes directed their 
 course ; this was unfortunately too evident, no other 
 horse having passed along the road since the shower. 
 When the day broke, Middleton was no longer 
 forced to halt, and he pressed on with rapidity. As- 
 cending an eminence before he reached the Three 
 Pidgeons, some miles on the north of the village of 
 Bergen, as the pursuing party reached its summit, 
 Champe was descried not more than half a mile in 
 front. Resembling an Indian in his vigilance, the 
 sergeant at the same moment discovered the party 
 (whose object he was no stranger to), and giving 
 spur to his horse, he determined to outstrip his pur- 
 suers. Middleton at the same instant put his horses 
 to the top of their speed ; and being (as the legion 
 
 *Tlio horses being all phod by our own farriers, the shoes 
 were nude in the same form ; which, with a private mark an- 
 nexed to the fore-shoes, and known to the troopers, pointed 
 out the trail of ouv dragoons to each other, which was often 
 very useful. 
 
 all were) well acquainted with the country, he 
 recollected a short route through the woods to the 
 bridge below Bergen, which, diverged from the great 
 road just after you gain the Three Pidgeons. Reach- 
 ing the point of separation, he halted; and dividing 
 his party, directed a sergeant with a few dragoons 
 to take the near cut, and possess with all possible 
 despatch the bridge, while he with the residue fol- 
 lowed Champe ; not doubting but that Champe 
 must deliver himself up,' as he would be closed be- 
 tween himself and his sergeant. Champe did not 
 forget the short cut, and would have taken it him- 
 self, but he knew it was the usual route of our par- 
 ties when returning in the day from the neighbor- 
 hood of the enemy, properly preferring the woods 
 to the road. He consequently avoided it ; and per- 
 suaded that Middleton would avail himself of it, 
 wisely resolved to relinquish his intention of getting 
 to Paulus Hook, and to seek refuge from two British 
 galleys, lying a few miles to the west of Bergen. 
 
 This was a station always occupied by one or two 
 galleys, and which it was known now lay there. 
 Entering the village of Bergen, Champe turned to 
 his right, and disguising his change of course as > 
 much as he could by taking the beaten streets, turn- 
 ing as they turned, he passed through the village 
 and took the road towards Elizabethtown Point. 
 Middleton's sergeant gained the bridge, where he 
 concealed himself, ready to pounce upon Champe 
 when he came up ; and Middleton, pursuing his 
 course through Bergen, soon got also to the bridge, 
 when, to his extreme mortification, he found that 
 the sergeant had slipped through his fingers. Re- 
 turning up the road, he inquired of the villagers of 
 Bergen, whether a dragoon had been seen that 
 morning preceding his party. He was answered in 
 the affirmative, but could learn nothing satisfactorily 
 as to the route he took. While engaged in inquiries 
 himself, he spread his party through the village to 
 strike the trail of Champe's horse, a resort always re- 
 curred to. Some of his dragoons hit it just as the 
 sergeant, leaving the village, got in the road to the 
 Point. Pursuit was renewed with vigor, and again 
 Champe was descried. lie, apprehending the event, 
 had prepared himself for it, by lashing his valise 
 (containing his clothes and orderly book) on his 
 shoulders, and holding his drawn sword in his hand, 
 having thrown away its scabbard. This he did to 
 save what was indispensable to him, and to prevent 
 any interruption to his swimming by the scabbard, 
 should Middleton, as he presumed, when disappointed 
 at the bridge, take the measures adopted by him. 
 The pursuit was rapid and close, as the sfop occa- 
 sioned by the sergeant's preparations for swimming 
 had brought Middleton within two or three hundred 
 yards. As soon as Champe got abreast of the gal- 
 leys, he dismounted, and running through the marsh 
 to the river, plunged into it, calling upon the gal- 
 leys for help. This was readily given; they fired 
 upon our horse, and sent a boat to meet Champe, 
 who was taken in and carried on board, and con- 
 veyed to New York with a letter from the captain 
 of the galley, stating the past scene, all of which he 
 had seen. 
 
 The horse with his equipments, the sergeant's 
 cloak and sword scabbard, were recovered; the 
 sword itself, being held by Champe until he plunged 
 into the river, was lost, as Middleton found it 
 necessary to retire without searching for it. 
 
 About three o'clock in the evening our party re- 
 turned, and the soldiers, seeing the horse (well 
 known to them) in our possession, made the air 
 resound with exclamations that the scoundrel was 
 killed. 
 
 Major Lee, called by this heart-rending annuncia- 
 
412 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 tion from his tent, saw the sergeant's horse led by 
 one of Middleton's dragoons, and began to reproach 
 himself -with the blood of the high prized faithful and 
 intrepid Champe. Stifling his agony, lie advanced 
 to meet Middleton, and became somewhat relieved 
 as soon as he got near enough to discern the counte- 
 nance of his officer and party. There was evidence 
 in their looks of disappointment, and he was quickly 
 relieved by Middleton'sinformation that the sergeant 
 had effected his escape with the loss of his horse, 
 and narrated the particulars just recited. 
 
 Lee's joy was now as full as, the moment before, 
 his torture had been excruciating. Never was a 
 happier conclusion. The sergeant escaped unhurt, 
 carrying with him to the enemy undeniable testi- 
 mony of the sincerity of his desertion, — cancelling 
 every apprehension before entertained, lest the 
 enemy might suspect him of being what he really 
 was. 
 
 Major Lee imparted to the commander-in-chief 
 the occurrence, who was sensibly affected by the 
 hair-breadth escape of Champe, and anticipated 
 with pleasure the good effect sure to follow the ene- 
 my's knowledge of its manner. 
 
 On the fourth day after Champe's departure, Lee 
 received a letter from him, written the day before 
 in a disguised hand, without any signature, and 
 stating what had passed after he got on board the 
 galley, where he was kindly received. 
 
 He was carried to the commandant of New York 
 as soon as lie arrived, and presented the letter ad- 
 dressed to this officer from the captain of the galley. 
 Being asked as to what corps he belonged, and a 
 few other common questions, he was sent under care 
 of an orderly sergeant to the adjutant-general, who, 
 finding that he was sergeant-major of the legion 
 horse, heretofore remarkable for their fidelity, he 
 began to interrogate him. He was told by Champe, 
 that such was the spirit of defection which pre- 
 vailed among the American troops in consequence 
 of Arnold's example, that he had no doubt, if the 
 temper was properly cherished, Washington's ranks 
 would not only be greatly thinned, but that some 
 of his best corps would leave him. To this conclu- 
 sion, the sergeant said, he was led by his own obser- 
 vations, and especially by his knowledge of the dis- 
 contents which agitated the corps to which he had 
 belonged. His size, place of birth, his form, coun- 
 tenance, color of his hair, the corps in which he had 
 served, with other remarks, in conformity to the 
 British usage, was noted in a large folio book. Af- 
 ter this was finished, he was sent to the commander- 
 in-chief, in charge of one of the staff, with a letter 
 from the adjutant-general Sir Henry Clinton 
 treated him very kindly, and detained him more 
 than one hour, asking him many questions, all lead- 
 ing, — first to know to what extent this spirit of de- 
 fection might be pushed by proper incitements, — 
 what the most operating incitements, — whether any 
 general officers were suspected by Washington as 
 concerned in Arnold's conspiracy, or any other offi- 
 cers of note ; — who they were, and whether the 
 troops approved or censured Washington's suspi- 
 cions ; — whether his popularity in the army was 
 sinking, or continued stationary. What was major 
 Andre's situation, — whether any change had taken 
 place in the manner of his confinement, — what was the 
 current opinion of his probable fate, — and whether 
 it was thought Washington would treat him as a spy. 
 To these various interrogations, some of which were 
 perplexing, Champe answered warily; exciting, 
 nevertheless, hopes that the adoption of proper 
 measures to encourage desertion (of which he could 
 not pretend to form an opinion) would certainly 
 bring off hundreds of the American soldiers, in- 
 
 cluding some of the best troops, horse as well as 
 foot. Respecting the fate of Andre, he said he was 
 ignorant, though there appeared to be a general wish 
 in the army that his life should not be taken ; and 
 that he believed it would depend more upon the 
 disposition of Congress, than on the will of Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 After this long conversation ended, sir Henry pre- 
 sented Champe with a couple of guineas, and recom- 
 mended him to wait upon general Arnold, who was 
 engaged in raising an American legion in the service 
 of his majesty. He directed one of his aids to 
 write to Arnold by Champe, stating who he was, 
 and what he had said about the disposition in the 
 army to follow his example ; which very soon done, 
 it was given to the orderly attending on Champe to 
 be presented with the deserter to general Arnold. 
 Arnold expressed much satisfaction on hearing from 
 Champe the manner of his escape, and the effect of 
 Arnold's example ; and concluded his numerous 
 inquiries by assigning quarters to the sergeant, — ■ 
 the same as were occupied by his recruiting ser- 
 geants. 
 
 He also proposed to Champe to join his legion, 
 telling him he would give to him the same station 
 he had held in the rebel service, and promising fur- 
 ther advancement when merited. Expressing his 
 wish to retire from war, and his conviction of ttie 
 certainty of his being hung if ever taken by the 
 rebels, he begged to be excused from enlistment; 
 assuring the general, that should he change his 
 mind, he would certainly accept his offer. Retiring 
 to the assigned quarters, Champe now turned his 
 attention to the delivery of his letters, which he 
 could not effect until the next night, and then only 
 to one of the two incognita to whom he was recom- 
 mended. This man received the sergeant with ex- 
 treme attention, and having read the letter, assured 
 Champe that he might rely on his faithful co-opera- 
 tion in doing everything in his power consistent 
 with his safety, to guard which required the utmost 
 prudence and circumspection. The sole object in 
 which the aid of this individual was required, re- 
 garded the general and others of our army, implicat- 
 ed in the information sent to Washington by him. 
 To this object Champe urged his attention ; assuring 
 him of the solicitude it had excited, and telling him 
 that its speedy investigation had induced the general 
 to send him into Kew York. Promising to enter 
 upon it with zeal, and engaging to send out Champe's 
 letters to major Lee, he fixed the time and place for 
 their next meeting, when they separated. 
 
 Lee made known to the general what had been 
 transmitted to him by Champe, and received in an- 
 swer directions to press Champe to the expeditious 
 conclusion of his mission ; as the fate of Andre 
 would be soon decided, when little or no delay could 
 be admitted in executing whatever sentence the 
 court might decree. The same messenger who 
 brought Champe's letter, returned with the ordered 
 communication. Five days had nearly elapsed after 
 reaching New York, before Champe saw the con- 
 fidant to whom only the attempt against Arnold was 
 to be entrusted. This person entered with promp- 
 titude into the design, promising his cordial assist- 
 ance. To procure a proper associate to Champe was 
 the first object, and this he promised to do with all 
 possible despatch. Furnishing a conveyance to Lee, 
 we again heard from Champe, who stated what I 
 have related, with the additional intelligence that 
 he had that morning (the last of September) been 
 appointed one of Arnold's recruiting sergeants, hav- 
 ing enlisted the day before with Arnold; and that 
 he was induced to take this afflicting step, for the 
 purpose of securing uninterrupted ingress and egress 
 
HENRY LEE. 
 
 413 
 
 to the liop.se which the general occupied; it being 
 indispensable to a speedy conclusion of the difficult 
 enterprise which the information he had just received 
 had so forcibly urged. He added, that the difficul- 
 ties in his way were numerous and stubborn, and 
 that his prospect of success was by no means cheer- 
 ing. ■ With respect to the additional treason, he as- 
 serted that he had every reason to believe that it 
 was groundless; that the report took its rise in the 
 enemy's camp, and that he hoped soon to clear up 
 that matter satisfactorily. The pleasure which the 
 last part of this communication afforded, was damped 
 by the tidings it imparted respecting Arnold, as on 
 his speedy delivery depended Andre's relief. The 
 interposition of sir Henry Clinton, who was ex- 
 tremely anxious to save his much loved aid-de-camp, 
 still continued ; and it was expected the examination 
 of witnesses and the defence of the prisoner, would 
 protract the decision of the court of inquiry, now 
 assembled, and give sufficient time for the consum- 
 mation of the project committed to Ghampe. A 
 complete disappointment took place from a quarter 
 unforeseen and unexpected. The honorable and 
 accomplished Andre, knowing his guilt, disdained 
 defence, and prevented the examination of witnesses 
 by confessing the character in which he stood. On 
 the next day (the 2d of October) the court again 
 assembled ; when every doubt that could possibly 
 arise in the case having been removed by the pre- 
 vious confession, Andre was declared to be a spy, 
 and condemned to suffer accordingly. 
 
 The sentence was executed on the subsequent day 
 in the usual form, the commander-in-chief deeming 
 it improper to interpose any delay. In this decision 
 he was warranted by the very unpromising intelli- 
 gence received from Chatnpe, — by the still existing 
 implication of other officers in Arnold's conspiracy, 
 — by a due regard to public opinion, — and by real 
 tenderness to the condemned. 
 
 Neither Congress nor the nation could have been 
 with propriety informed of the cause of the delay, 
 and without such information it must have excited 
 ill both alarm and suspicion. Andre himself could 
 not have been entrusted with the secret, and would 
 consequently have attributed the unlooked-for event 
 to the expostulation and exertion of sir Henry Clin- 
 ton, which would not fail to produce in his breast 
 expectations of ultimate relief; to excite which 
 would have been cruel, as the realization of such 
 expectation depended upon a possible but improba- 
 ble contingency. The fate of Andre, hastened by him- 
 self, deprived the enterprise committed to Champe 
 of a feature which had been highly prized by its 
 projector, and which had very much engaged the 
 heart of the individual chosen to execute it. 
 
 Washington ordered major Lee to communicate 
 what had passed to the sergeant, with directions to 
 encourage him to prosecute with unrelaxed vigor 
 the remaining objects of his instructions, but to 
 intermit haste in the execution only as far as was 
 compatible with final success. 
 
 This was accordingly done by the first opportu- 
 nity, in the manner directed. Champe deplored the 
 sad necessity which occurred, and candidly confessed 
 that the hope of enabling Washington to save the 
 life of Andre (who had been the subject of universal 
 commiseration in the American camp) greatly con- 
 tributed to remove the serious difficulties which op- 
 posed his acceding to the proposition when first pro- 
 pounded. Some documents accompanied this com- 
 munication, tending to prove the innocence of the 
 accused general; they were completely satisfactory, 
 and did credit to the discrimination, zeal and dili- 
 gence of the sergeant. Lee inclosed them immedi- 
 ately to the commander-in-chief, who was pleased to 
 
 express the satisfaction he derived from the informa- 
 tion, and to order the major to wait upon him the 
 next day; when the whole subject was re-examined; 
 and the distrust heretofore entertained of the accused 
 was for ever dismissed. Nothing now remained to 
 be done, but the seizure and safe delivery of Arnold. 
 To this object Champe gave his undivided attention : 
 and on the 19th October major Lee received from 
 him a very particular account of the progress he 
 had made, with the outlines of his plan. This was, 
 without delay, submitted to Washington; with a 
 request for a few additional guineas. The general's 
 letter, written 0:1 the same day (20th October), 
 evinces his attention to the minutire of business, as 
 well as his immutable determination to possess Ar- 
 nold alive, or not at all. This was his original in- 
 junction, which he never omitted to enforce upon 
 every proper occasion. 
 
 Major Lee had an opportunity in the course of the 
 week of writing to Champe, when he told him that 
 the rewards which he had promised to his associates 
 would be certainly paid on the delivery of Arnold ; 
 and in tiie meantime, small sums of money would be 
 furnished for casual expenses, it being deemed im- 
 proper that he should appear with much, lest it 
 might lead to suspicion and detection. That five 
 guineas were, now sent, and that more would follow 
 when absolutely necessary. 
 
 Ten days elapsed before Champe brought his mea- 
 sures to conclusion, when Lee received from him his 
 final communication, appointing the third subsequent 
 night for a party of dragoons to meet him at Hobo- 
 ken, when he hoped to deliver Arnold to the officer. 
 Champe had, from his enlistment into the Ameri- 
 can legion (Arnold's corps), every opportunity he 
 could wish, to attend to the habits of the general. 
 He discovered that it was his custom to return home 
 about twelve every night, and that previous to 
 going to bed he always visited the garden. During 
 this visit the conspirators were to seize him, and 
 being prepared with a gag, intended to have applied 
 the same instantly. 
 
 Adjoining the house in which Arnold resided, and 
 in which it was designed to seize and gag him, 
 Champe had taken off several of the palings and 
 replaced them, so that with care and without noise 
 he could readily open his way to the adjoining alley. 
 Into this alley he meant to have conveyed his pri- 
 soner, aided by his companion, one of two associates 
 who had been introduced by the friend to whom 
 Champe had been originally made known by letter 
 from the commander-in-chief, and with whose aid 
 and counsel he had so far conducted the enterprise. 
 His other associate was with the boat prepared at 
 one of the wharves on the Hudson river, to receive 
 the party. 
 
 Champe and his friend intended to have placed 
 themselves each under Arnold's shoulder, and to 
 have thus borne him through the most unfrequented 
 alleys and streets to the boat ; representing Arnold, 
 in ease of being questioned, as a drunken soldier 
 whom they were conveying to the guard-house. 
 
 When arrived at the boat the difficulties would be 
 all surmounted, there being no danger nor obstacle 
 in passing to the Jersey shore. These particulars, as 
 soon as known to Lee, were communicated to the 
 commander-in-chief, who was highly gratified with 
 the much desired intelligence. He directed major 
 Lee to meet Champe, and to take care that Arnold 
 should not be hurt. The day arrived, and Lee with 
 a party of dragoons left camp late in the evening, 
 with three led accoutred horses ; one for Arnold, 
 one for the sergeant, and the third for his associate, 
 never doubting the success of the enterprise, from 
 the tenor of the last received communication. The 
 
414 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 party reached Hoboken about midnight, where they 
 were concealed in the adjoining wood, — Lee with 
 three dragoons stationing himself near the river 
 shore. Hour after hour passed — no boat approached. 
 At length the day broke and the major retired to 
 his party, and with his led horses returned to camp, 
 when he proceeded to headquarters to inform the 
 general of the much lamented disappointment, as 
 mortifying as inexplicable. Washington having pe- 
 rused Charnpe's plan and communication, had in- 
 dulged the presumption that at length the object 
 of his keen and constant pursuit was sure of execu- 
 tion, and did not dissemble the joy such conviction 
 produced. He was chagrined at the issue, and ap- 
 prehended that his faithful sergeant must have been 
 detected in the last scene of his tedious and difficult 
 enterprise. 
 
 In a few days, Lee received an anonymous letter 
 from Charnpe's patron and friend, informing him 
 that on the day preceding the night fixed for the 
 execution of the plot, Arnold had removed his quar- 
 ters to another part of the town, to superintend the 
 embarkation of troops, preparing (as was rumored) 
 for an expedition to be directed by himself; and 
 that the American legion, consisting chiefly of Ame- 
 rican deserters, had been transferred from their bar- 
 racks to one of the transports ; it being apprehended 
 that if left on shore until the expedition was ready, 
 many of them might desert. Thus it happened that 
 John Champe, instead of crossing the Hudson that 
 night, was safely deposited on board one of the fleet 
 of transports, from whence he never departed until 
 the troops under Arnold landed in Virginia! Nor 
 was he able to escape from the British army until 
 after the junction of lord Cornwallis at Petersburg, 
 when he deserted ; and proceeding high up into 
 Virginia he passed into North Carolina near the 
 Saura towns, and keeping in the friendly districts 
 of that state, safely joined the army soon after it 
 had passed the Congaree in pursuit of Lord Raw- 
 don. 
 
 His appearance excited extreme surprise among 
 his former comrades, which was not a little increased 
 when they saw the cordial reception he met with 
 from the late major, now lieutenant-colonel Lee. 
 His whole story soon became known to the corps, 
 which reproduced the love and respect of officer and 
 soldier (heretofore invariably entertained for the 
 sergeant), heightened by universal admiration of his 
 late daring and arduous attempt. 
 
 Champe was introduced to general Greene, who 
 very cheerfully complied with the promises made 
 by the commander-in-chief, as far as in his power ; 
 and having provided the sergeant with a good horse 
 and money for his journey, sent him to general 
 Washington, who munificently anticipated every 
 desire of the sergeant and presented him with his 
 discharge from further service,* lest he might, in 
 the vicissitudes of war, fall into the enemy's hands ; 
 when, if recognised, he was sure to die on a gibbet. 
 
 FROM THE FUNERAL ORATION ON TITE DEATH OF GEN. WASHING- 
 TON, DELIVERED AT THE REQUEST OF CONGRESS. 
 
 How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your 
 grateful hearts his pre-eminent worth! Where 
 sliall I begin in opening to your view a character 
 throughout sublime ? Shall I speak of his warlike 
 
 * When General "Washington was called by President Adams 
 to the command of the army, prepared to defend the conntry 
 from French hostility, he sent to Lieutenant-colonel Lee to in- 
 quire for Champe; being determined to bring him into the 
 field at the head of a company of infantry. 
 
 Lee sent to Loudon county, where Champe settled after his 
 discharge from the army ; when he learned that the gallant 
 soldier had removed to Kentucky, where he soon after died. 
 
 achievements, all springing from obedience to his 
 country's will — all directed to his country's good? 
 
 Will you go with me to the banks of the Monon- 
 gahela, to see our youthful Washington supporting, 
 in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the ill-fated 
 Br.iddock, and saving, by his judgment and his valour, 
 the remains of a defeated army, pressed by the con- 
 quering savage foe ? Or, when oppressed America, 
 nobly resolving to risk her all in defence of her 
 violated rights, he was elevated by the unanimous 
 voice of Congress to the command of her armies? 
 Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, 
 where, to an undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous 
 yeomanry, his presence gave the stability of system, 
 and infused the invincibility of love of country? 
 Or shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long 
 Island, York Island, and New Jersey, when, com- 
 bating superior and gallant armies, aided by power- 
 ful fleets, and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, 
 he stood the bulwark of our safety, undismayed by 
 disasters, unchanged by change of fortune? Or will 
 you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, 
 where deep gloom, unnerving every arm, reigned 
 triumphant through our thinned, worn down, un- 
 aided ranks, himself unmoved. Dreadful was the 
 night. It was about this time of winter — the storm 
 raged — the Delaware rolling furiously with floating 
 ice, forbade the approach of man. Washington, 
 self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His 
 country called; unappalled by surrounding dangers, 
 he passed to the hostile shore; he fought, he con- 
 quered. The morning sun cheered the American 
 world. Our country rose on the event, and her 
 dauntless chief pursuing his blow, completed, in the 
 lawns of Princeton, what his vast soul had con- 
 ceived on the shores of the Delaware. 
 
 Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown, he 
 led his small but gallant band; and through an 
 eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius, 
 whose matchless force was mensurable only by the 
 growth of difficulties, he held in check formidable 
 hostile legions, conducted by a chief experienced in 
 the arts of war, and famed for his valour on the 
 ever memorable heights of Abraham, where fell 
 Wolfe, Montcalm, and since, our much lamented 
 Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortu- 
 nate interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our 
 fathers, ourselves, animated by. his restless example, 
 rallied around our country's standard, and continued 
 to follow her beloved chief through the various 
 and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union 
 led. 
 
 Who is there that has forgotten the vales of 
 Brandywine — the fields of Germantown — or the 
 plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants 
 of every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant 
 armies encountering, himself a host, he assuaged our 
 sufferings, limited our privations, and upheld our 
 tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the 
 spread of the fire of his soul, by rehearsing the 
 praises of the Hero of Saratoga, and his much-loved 
 compeer of the Carolinas? No ; our Washington 
 wears not borrowed glory. To Gates — to Greene, 
 he gave without reserve the applause due to their 
 eminent merit ; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga 
 and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grate- 
 ful people. 
 
 Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and 
 light to his most distant satellites ; and combining 
 the physical and moral force of all within his 
 sphere, with irresistible weight he took his course, 
 commiserating folly, disdaining vice, dismaying 
 treason, and invigorating despondency ; until the 
 auspicious hour arrived, when, united with the 
 intrepid forces of a potent and magnanimous ally, 
 
ROYAL TYLER. 
 
 415 
 
 he brought to submission the since conqueror of 
 India ; tlms finishing his long career of military 
 glory with a lustre corresponding to his great name, 
 and in this his last act of war, affixing the seal of 
 fate to our nations birth. 
 
 ***** 
 
 First in war, kirst in peace, and first in toe 
 
 HEARTS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN, lie WUS Second lo IlOlie 
 
 in the humble and endearing scenes of private life. 
 Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere urn 
 form, dignified, and commanding, his example was 
 edifying to all around linn, as were the effects ol lliat 
 example lasting. 
 
 To his equals he was condescending ; lo his in 
 feriors kind ; and to the dear object of his affections 
 exeniplarily tender. Correct throughout, vice shud- 
 dered in his presence, and virtue always felt his 
 fostering hand, the purity of his private character 
 gave effulgence to his public virtues. 
 
 His last scene comported with the whole tenor of 
 his life. Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not 
 a groan escaped him ; and with undisturbed serenity 
 he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man 
 America has lost ! Such was the man for whom our 
 nation mourns 1 
 
 EOTAL TYLER 
 
 Was a wit, a poet, and a Chief Justice. His life 
 certainly deserves to be narrated with more par- 
 ticularity than it has yet received. His writings, 
 too, should be collected and placed in an accessi- 
 ble form. American literature cannot be charged 
 with poverty while it has such valuables unin- 
 vested in its forgotten repositories. 
 
 Eoyal Tyler was born in Boston, in the neigh- 
 borhood of Faneuil Hall, about the year 1756. He 
 was a Harvard graduate of the class of 1776; 
 studied law in that school of patriotism, the office 
 of John Adams, and was for a short tune aide-de- 
 camp to General Lincoln, lie served in the same 
 capacity in t lie suppression of Shay's rebellion in 
 1786; and was employed in some negotiations 
 connected with that affair in a visit to New York, 
 where a comedy which lie had written during his 
 military service was produced on the stage. It 
 was entitled The Contrast, and has the distinc- 
 tion of being the first stage production in which 
 the Yankee dialect and story telling, since so fa- 
 miliar in the parts written for Hacked;, Hill, and 
 others, was employed. It was more than that; 
 it was the first American play which was ever 
 acted on a regular stage by an established compa- 
 ny of comedians. It was played at the old John 
 Street Theatre in New York, under the manage- 
 ment of Ilallam and Henry, April 16, 1786.* Its 
 success was such as to induce the author to pro- 
 duce a second, entitled May Day, or New York 
 in an Uproar, for the benefit of the actor Wig- 
 nell in the May following. 
 
 The Country Jonathan, in the Contrast, on a 
 visit to town, drops into the theatre with the ex- 
 pectation of seeing '• ahocuspocus man," and sits 
 out a performance of the School for Scandal with- 
 out any notion that he has visited a playhouse. 
 On being asked if he saw the man with his tricks — ■ 
 " Why I vow," says he, " as I was looking out 
 for him, they lifted up a great green cloth, and let 
 us look right into the next neighbor's house." 
 
 * He gavo the copyright to the principal actor in the piece, 
 Vignell, who published it by subscription. 
 
 " Have you a good many houses in New York 
 made in that ere way V he asks, and is told not 
 many, a but did you see the family? Well, and 
 how did you like them V " Why, I vow, they 
 were pretty mucli like other families ; — there was 
 a poor good-natured curse of a husband, and a sad 
 rantipole of a wife." At the close, he asks for his 
 money, as be has not had the show : — " the dogs 
 a bit of a sight have I seen, unless you call listen- 
 ing to people's private business a sight."* 
 
 Tyler not long after gained considerable repu- 
 tation by his contributions to that very pleasant 
 newspaper and miscellany, one of the very best of 
 its kind ever published in this country, the Far- 
 mer's Weekly Museum, published at Walpole in 
 New Hampshire, by Isaiah Thomas and David 
 Carlisle. When Dennie became its editor, Tyler 
 was called in to assist him with his contributions 
 from the shop of Messrs. Colon and Spondee, an 
 amusing melange of light verse and entertaining 
 social and political squibs, which he had already 
 opened in the journals, the Eagle, at Hanover, the 
 Federal Orrery at Boston, and the Tablet. Tyler 
 thus announced the project in a parody of the 
 advertisements of the "Universal Stores" of those 
 days. 
 
 VARIETY STORE. 
 
 to the LITERATI. 
 Mess. COLON & SPONDEE 
 
 WHOLESALE DEALERS IN 
 
 VERSE PROSE and MUSIC, 
 
 Beg leave to inform the public 
 
 and the learned in particular, that 
 
 — previous to the ensuing 
 
 COMMENCEMENT— 
 
 They purpose to open a fresh Assortment of 
 Lcxograpluc, Bur'gursdician, th Parnassian 
 
 GOODS, 
 
 SUITABLE FOR THE SEASON, 
 
 _At the Room on the Plain, f lately occupied 
 
 by Mr. Frcderic Wiser, Tonsor, 
 
 if it can be procured 
 
 Where they will expose to Sale 
 
 OALUTATORY and Valedictory Orations, Syllo- 
 ^ gistic and Forensic Disputations and Dialogues 
 among the living and the dead — Theses and Masters, 
 Questions, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic and 
 the ancient Coptic, neatly modified into Dialogues, 
 Orations <fcc. on the shortest notice — with Disserta- 
 tions on the Targum and Talmud, and Collations 
 after the manner of Kennicott — Hebrew roots and 
 other simples — Dead Languages for living Drones — 
 Oriental Languages with or without points, prefixes, 
 or suffixes — Attic, Doric, Ionic, and jEolic Dialects, 
 with the Wabash, Onondaga, and Mohawk Guttur- 
 als — Synakephas, Elisions, and Ellipses of the newest 
 cut — v's added and dove-tailed to their vowels, witli 
 a small assortment of the genuine Peloponnesian Na- 
 sal Twangs — -Classic Compliments adapted to all 
 dignities, with superlatives in o, and gerunds in di, 
 gratia — Monologues, Dialogues, Trialogues, Tetra- 
 logues, and so on from one to twenty logues. 
 
 Anagrams, Acrostics, Anacreontics; Chro- 
 nograms, Epigrams, Hudibrastics, & Panegyrics ; 
 
 * Dunlap's History of tho American Theatre, pp. T2-3. 
 t At Hanover, N. H. 
 
410 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Rebusses, Charades, Puns, and Conundrums, by the 
 gross or single dozen. Sonnets, Elegies, Epithalami- 
 ums ; Bucolics, Georgies, Pastorals ; Epic Poems, 
 Dedications, and Adulatory Prefaces, in verse and 
 prose. 
 
 Ether, Mist, Sleet, Rain, Snow, Lightning, 
 and Thunder, prepared and personified, after the 
 manner of Delia Crusca, will) a quantity of Brown. 
 Horror, Blue Fear and Child Begetting Love, from 
 the same Manufactory; with a pleasing variety of 
 high-colored, Compound Epithets, well assorted 
 
 Farragoes", aud other Bruuoniau Opiates — 
 
 Anti-Institutes, or the new and concise patent mode 
 of applying forty letters to the spelling of a monosyl- 
 lable — Love Letters by the Ream — Summary Argu- 
 ments, both Merry and Serious — Sermons, moral, oc- 
 casional, or polemical — Sermons for Texts, and Texts 
 for Sermons — Old Orations scoured, Forensics fur- 
 bished, Blunt Epigrams newly pointed, and cold 
 Conferences hashed ; with Extemporaneous Prayers 
 corrected and amended — Alliterations artfully allied 
 — and periods polished to perfection. 
 
 Aims, Canons, Catches, and Cantatas — 
 Fuges, Overtures, and Symphonies for any number 
 
 of Instruments ■ Serenades for Nocturnal Lovers 
 
 — with Rrjse Trees full blown, and Black Jokes of all 
 
 colours Aniens and Hallelujahs, trilled, quavered, 
 
 and slurred with Couplets, Syncopations, Minims 
 
 and Crotchet Rests, for female voices and Solos 
 
 "with three parts, for hand organs. 
 
 Classic College Bows, clear starched, 
 lately imported from Cambridge, and now used by 
 all the topping scientific connoisseurs, in hair and 
 wigs, in this country. 
 
 Adventures, Paragraphs, Letters from 
 Correspondents, Country Seats for Rural Members 
 of Congress, provided for Editors of Newspapers— 
 with Accidental Deaths,' Battles, Bloody Murders, 
 Premature News, Tempests, Thunder and Lightning, 
 and Hail-Stones, of all dimensions, adapted to the 
 Season. 
 
 Circles Squared, and Mathematical points 
 divided into quarters, and half shares ; and jointed 
 Assymptotes, which will meet at any given distance. 
 
 Syllogisms in Bocardo, and Baralipton ; 
 Serious Cautions against Drunkenness, &c, and other 
 coarse Wrapping-Paper, gratis, to those who buy the 
 smallest article. 
 
 On hand a few Tierces of Attic Salt- Also, 
 
 Cash, and the highest price, given f 'or Raw Wit, for the 
 use of the Manufactory, or taken in exchange for the 
 above Articles. 
 
 Tyler also published a series of papers with the 
 title, An Author's Evenings, in the Port Folio for 
 1801, and subsequently. A liberal collection of 
 these papers is included in a volume published by 
 Thomas and Thomas tit Walpole in 1801, enti- 
 tled The Spirit of the Farmer's Museum, an/1 Lay 
 Preacher's Gazette. Tyler was at that time an 
 attorney in Guilford, Vermont. His facility in 
 verse in these compositions was remarkable. 
 He had great command of versification aud an 
 abundant fund of impromptu humor. His "Colon 
 and Spondee" articles are divided between Fede- 
 ral politics, attacks on French democracy, the 
 Delia Cruscan literature, and the fashionable fri- 
 volities of the day. The paragraphs in prose 
 show the author's wit, taste in literature, and 
 strongly marked opinions of the federal school 
 in politics. 
 
 In 1797, he wrote a comedy in three acts, The 
 
 Georgia Spec, or Land in the Moon, in ridicule 
 of a speculating mama for wild Yazoo lands. 
 It was repeatedly performed in Boston with suc- 
 cess. He wrote some other dramatic produc- 
 tions, but none of them have been published. 
 
 In 1797 appeared from the press of David Car- 
 lisle, at Walpole, in two volumes, his Algerine 
 Captive; or the Life and Adventures of Doctor 
 UpdAke Underhill : six years a prisoner among 
 the Algerines. It is dedicated to the poet Hum- 
 phreys. This work is said to have been mistaken 
 by an English critic for a narrative of actual ad- 
 venture. It is a fictitious book of memoirs, in 
 which the author ventilates his opinions on vari- 
 ous topics of American society, paints the hor- 
 rors of the slave trade and the now almost 
 incomprehensible grievances which the European 
 and American powers for a long time endured 
 from the assumptions of the Algerines. In the 
 close of the work there are some sketches of Ma- 
 hometanism. The book is written in short chap- 
 ters with spirit and neatness of style. There is 
 quite enough ingenuity in the thought, coupled 
 with the descriptions of the manners of the times, 
 to redeem this work from the neglect into which 
 it has fallen. Though printed in at least a second 
 American edition, it is now eN'ceedingly scaroe. 
 
 In 17U9, he composed a Fourth of July ode for 
 the public celebration of the day at Windsor, 
 Vermont, and a convivial song for the same oc- 
 casion. He was frequently called upon for these 
 services, and for the occasional prologues in vogue 
 at charitable and other theatrical benefits. 
 
 The Fourth of July ode is fluent, but not over 
 vigorous. A stanza will show its sentiment for 
 the times : — 
 
 When haughty Britons strove in vain 
 To bind our land with slavery's chain, 
 Our fathers drew their warlike swords. 
 Our fathers drew their warlike swords. 
 
 Immortal fields of Bennington, 
 
 Attest the laurels which they won. 
 
 Now faithless France, with impious hand, 
 Strikes at the glory of our land — 
 To arms ! to arms ! each hardy son, 
 And earn the fame your sires have won. 
 
 The Convivial Song in the evening has more 
 spirit in it — ■ 
 
 Here's Washington, the brave, boys, 
 
 Source of all Columbia's joys, 
 Here's Washington, the brave, boys, 
 Come rise and toast him standing : 
 For he's the hero firm and brave, 
 Who all our country's glory gave, 
 And once again he shall us save, 
 Our armies bold commanding. 
 
 Here's to our native land, boys, 
 
 Land of liberty and joys, 
 Here's to our native land, boys, 
 Your glasses raise for drinking; 
 
 And he that will no*t drink this toast, 
 May he in France of freedom boast, 
 There dangling on a lantern post, 
 Or in the Rhone be sinking. 
 
 In 1804 we notice Tyler as a contributor of 
 verses to the Columbian Cerdinel. 
 
 In 1800, and for several successive years, he 
 was elected by the Legislature of Vermont Chief 
 Justice of the Superior Court. In 1809 he pub- 
 lished two volumes of Reports of Cases in the 
 
ROYAL TYLER. 
 
 417 
 
 Supreme Court of Vermont. He still continued 
 to write for the journals, in the Port Folio, and 
 other quarters. Some of his latest productions 
 appeared in the New England Galaxy. 
 
 In 1806 he was a contributor to Buckingham's 
 monthly periodical, The Polyanthus, of the 
 papers entitled "Trash," and a number of fugi- 
 tive poetical pieces, and again on the revival of 
 the publication in 1812.* 
 
 The last portion of this life of literary gaiety 
 was melancholy. Judge Tyler died at Brattleboro', 
 Vermont, Angust 16, 1826, having suffered for 
 several years from a cancer in the face.t 
 
 FROM THE 6nOP OF MESSRS. COLON AND SPONDEE. 
 
 Address to Della Crusca, hunihly attempted in tlie sullimd 
 style of that fashionable author. 
 
 O thou, who, with thy blue cerulean blaze, 
 Hast circled Europe's brow with lovelorn praise; 
 Whose magic pea its gelid lightning throws, 
 Is now a sunbeam, now a fragrant rose. 
 Child of the dappl'd spring, whose green delight, 
 Drinks, with her snowdrop lips, the dewy light. 
 Son of the summer's bland, prolific rays, 
 Who sheds her loftiest treasures in thy lays ; 
 Who swells her golden lips to trump thy name, 
 Which sinks to whispers, at thy azure fame. 
 Brown autumn nurs'd thee with her dulcet dews, 
 And lurid winter rock'd thy cradled muse. 
 Seasons and suns, and spangl'd systems roll, 
 Like atoms vast, beneath thy " cloud capt" souL 
 Time wings its panting flight in hurried chase, 
 But sinks in dew dropt languor in the immortal 
 race. 
 thou, whose soul the nooky Britain scorns ; 
 Whose white cliffs tremble, when thy genius storms. 
 The sallow Afrie, with her curl'd domains, 
 And purpled Asia with her muslin plains, 
 And surgy Europe — vain — thy soul confiu'd 
 Which rills all space — and e'en Matilda's mlnd 1 
 Anna's capacious mind, which all agree, 
 Contain' d a wilderness of words in thee. 
 More happy thou than Macedonia's Lord, 
 Who wept for \vorld3 to feed his famish'd sword, 
 Fatigu'd by attic conquest of the old, 
 Fortune to thee a novel world unfolds. 
 Come, mighty conqueror, thy foes disperse; 
 Let loose " thy epithets," those dogs op verse ; 
 Draw forth thy gorgeous sword of da-.nask'd rhyme, 
 And ride triumphant through Columbia's clime, 
 Till sober lettered sense shall dying smile, 
 Before the mighty magic of thy style. 
 What tawny tribes in dusky forest wait, 
 To grace the ovation of thy victor state. 
 What oeher'd chiefs, vcrmillion'd by thy sword, 
 Mark'd by thy epithets, shall own thee lord. 
 The punie Creek, and nigrilied Choctaw, 
 The high bo 1'd Wabash, and bland hanging Maw; 
 Great Little Billy, PiamingO brave, 
 With pity's dew drops wet M'Gilvery's grave. 
 What sonorous streams meander through thy lays. 
 What lakes shall bless thy rich bequest of praise, 
 Rough Hockhocking, and gentle Chicago, 
 The twin Miamis — placid Scioto. 
 How will Ohio roll his lordly stream, 
 What blue mists dance upon the liquid scene, 
 Gods! how sublime shall Delia Crusea range, 
 When all Niagara cataracts tiiy page. 
 What arts? What arms? Unknown to thee belong? 
 What ruddy scalps shall deck thy sanguia'd song ? 
 
 * Buckingham's Personal Memoirs, i. DG, 50. 
 
 J Uaclunjcham's Specimens of Newspaper Literature. Kct- 
 tell's Specimens. 
 VOL. 1. — 2 7 
 
 What fumy cal'mets scent the ambient air, 
 What lovelorn Warhoops, CAPITALS declare 
 Cerulean tomahawks shall grace each line, 
 And blue ey'd wampum glisten through thy rhyme, 
 Rise, Delia Crusea, prince of bards sublime, 
 And pour on us whole cataracts of rhyme. 
 Son of the sun, arise, whose brightest rays, 
 All merge to tapers in thy ignite blaze. 
 Like some colossus, stride the Atlantic o'er, 
 A leg of genius place on either shore, 
 Extend thy red right arm to either wmrld ; 
 Be the proud standard of thy style unfurl'd ; 
 Proclaim thy sounding page, from shore to shore, 
 And swear that sense in verse, shall be no more. 
 
 Della Yankee. 
 
 from the shop of messrs. colon and 8p0ndee. 
 Spondee's Mistresses. 
 I. 
 Let Cowley soft in am'rous verse 
 The rovings of his love rehearse, 
 
 With passion most unruly, 
 Boast how he woo'd sweet Amoret, 
 The sobbing Jane, and sprightly Bet, 
 The lily fair and smart brunette, 
 In sweet succession truly. 
 
 n. 
 But list, ye lovers, and you'll swear, 
 I rov'd with him beyond compare, 
 
 And was far more unlucky. 
 For never yet in Yankee coast 
 Were found such girls, wdio so could boast. 
 An honest lover's heart to roast, 
 
 From Casco to Kentucky. 
 
 m. 
 When first the girls nicknam'd me beau, 
 ■ And I was all for dress and show, 
 I set me out a courting. 
 A romping Miss, with heedless art, 
 First caught, then almost broke, my heart, 
 Miss Conduct nam'd, we soon did part, 
 I did not like such sporting. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The next coquet, who rais'd a flame, 
 Was far more grave, and somewhat lame 
 
 She in my heart did rankle. 
 She conquer'd, with a sudden glance, 
 The spiteful slut was called Mrss Chance ; 
 I took the gypsy out to dance ; 
 
 She almost broke my ankle. 
 
 v. 
 A thoughtless girl, just in her teens, 
 Was the next fair, whom Love it seems 
 
 Had made me prize most highly, 
 I thought to court a lovely mate, 
 But, how it made my heart to ache, 
 It was that jade, the vile Miss Take; 
 
 In troth, Love did it slyly. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And last, Miss Fortune, whimpering, came, 
 Cur'd me of Love's tormenting flame, 
 
 And all my beau pretences. 
 In Widow's Weeds, the prude appears ; 
 See now — she drowns me with her tears, 
 With bony fist, now slaps my ears, 
 
 And brings me to my senses. 
 
 FROM TnE SHOP OF MESSRS. COLON AND SPONDEE. 
 
 Ode composed for the Fourth of July, calculated for the meri- 
 dian of some country towns in Massachusetts, and Iiyo 
 in New Hampshire. 
 
 Squeak the fife, and beat the drum, 
 Independence day is come I 1 
 
418 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 Let the roasting pig be bled. 
 
 Quick twist off the cockerel's head. 
 
 Quickly rub the pewter platter, 
 
 Heap the uutcakes fried in butter. 
 
 Set the cups, and beaker glass, 
 
 The pumpkin, and the apple sauce, 
 
 Send the keg to shop for brandy ; 
 
 Maple sugar we have handy, 
 
 Independent, staggering Dick, 
 
 A noggin mix of swinging thick, 
 
 Sal, put on your russel skirt, 
 
 Jotham, get your boughten shirt, 
 
 To day we dance to tiddle diddle. 
 
 — Here comes Sambo with his fiddle ; 
 
 Sambo, take a dram of whisky, 
 
 And piny up Yankee doodle frisky. 
 
 Moll, come leave your witched tricks. 
 
 And let us have a reel of six. 
 
 Father and mother shall mr.ke two ; 
 
 Sail, Moll and I stand all a row, 
 
 Sambo, play and dance with quality ; 
 
 This is the day of blest Equality. 
 
 Father and mother are but men, 
 
 .And Sambo — is a Citizen, 
 
 Come foot it, Sal — Moll, figure in, 
 
 And mother, you dance up to him ; 
 
 How saw as fast as e'er you can do, 
 
 And Father, you cross o'er to Sambo. 
 
 — Thus we dance, and thus we play, 
 
 On glorious Independent day. — 
 
 Rub more rosin on your bow, 
 
 And let us have another go. 
 
 Zounds, as sure as eggs and bacon, 
 
 Here's ensign Sneak, and uncle Deacon, 
 
 Aunt Thiah, and their Bets behind her 
 
 On blundering mare, than beetle blinder. 
 
 And there's the 'Squire too with his lady — 
 
 Sal, hold the beast, I'll take the baby. 
 
 Moll, bring the 'Squire our great arm chair, 
 
 Good folks, we're glad to see you here. 
 
 Jotham, get the great case bottle, 
 
 Your teeth can pull its corn cob stopple. 
 
 Ensign, — Deacon, never mind ; 
 
 Squire, drink until you're blind ; 
 
 Come, here's the French — and Guillotine, 
 
 And here is good 'Squire Gallatin, 
 
 And here's each noisy Jacobin. 
 
 Here's friend Madison so hearty, 
 
 And here's confusion to the treaty. 
 
 Come, one more swig to southern Demos 
 
 Who represent our brother negroes. 
 
 Thus we drink and dance away, 
 
 This glorious IndependentDay! 
 
 LOVE AND LIBERTY. 
 
 In briery dell or thicket brown, 
 
 On mountain high, in lowly vale, 
 Or where the thistle sheds its down, 
 
 And sweet fern scents the passing gale. 
 There hop the birds from bush to tree ; 
 Love fills their throats, 
 Love swells their note3, 
 Their song is love and liberty. 
 No parent birds their love direct; 
 
 Each seeks his fair in plumy throng; 
 Caught by the lustre of her neck, 
 
 Or kindred softness of her song. 
 They sing and bill from bush to tree; 
 Love fills their throats, 
 Love swells their notes, 
 Their song is love and liberty. 
 Some airy songster's feathered shape, 
 
 O! could my love and I assume — 
 The ring-dove's glossy neck he take, 
 
 And I the modest turtle's plume ; 
 
 then we'd sing from bush to tree : 
 
 Love fill our throats, 
 
 Love swell our notes, 
 Our song be love and liberty. 
 
 TEE AUTHOR KEEPETH A COUNTRY SCHOOL: THE ANTICIPA- 
 TIONS, PLEASURES, AND PROFITS OF A PEDAGOGUE.* 
 
 Delightful task [ to rear tbe tender thought, 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot. 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 To breathe th' entivning tpirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast 
 
 Thomson "6 Seasons. 
 
 By our minister's recommendation, I was engaged 
 to keep a school, in a neighbouring town, so soon as 
 our fail's work was over. 
 
 How my heart dilated with the prospect, in the 
 tedious interval, previous to my entering upon my 
 school. How often have I stood suspended over my 
 dung fork, and anticipated my scholars, seated in 
 awful silence around me, my arm chair and birchen 
 sceptre of authority. There was an echo in my 
 father's sheep pasture. More than once have I 
 repaired there alone, and exclaimed with a loud 
 voice, is master I'pdike Underbill at home? I 
 would speak with master. Underbill, for the pleasure 
 of hearing how my title sounded. Dost thou smile, 
 indignant reader ? pause and recollect if these sensa- 
 tions have not been familiar to thee, at some time in 
 thy life. If thou answerest disdainfully. — no — then 
 I aver thou hast never been a corporal in militia, or 
 a sophomore at college. 
 
 At times, I however entertained less pleasing, but 
 more rational contemplations on my prospects. As 
 I had been once unmercifully whipt, for detecting 
 my master in a false concord, I resolved to be mild 
 in my government, to avoid all manual corrections, 
 and doubted not by these means to secure the love 
 and respect of my pupils. 
 
 In the interim of school hours, and in those peace- 
 ful intervals, when my pupils were engaged in 
 study, I hoped to indulge myself with my favourite 
 Greek. I expected to be overwhelmed with the 
 gratitude of their parents, for pouring the fresh in- 
 struction over the minds of their children, and 
 teaching their young ideas how to shoot. I antici- 
 pated independence from my salary, which was to 
 be equal to four dollars, hard money, per month, 
 and my boarding; and expected to find amusement 
 and pleasure among the circles of the young, and to 
 derive information and delight from the classic con- 
 verse of the minister. 
 
 In due time my ambition was gratified, and I 
 placed at the head of a school, consisting of about 
 sixty scholars. Excepting three or four overgrown 
 boys of eighteen, the generality of them were under 
 the age of seven years. Perhaps a more ragged, 
 ill bred, ignorant set, never were collected, for the 
 punishment of a poor pedagogue. To study in 
 school was impossible. Instead of the silence I an- 
 ticipated, there was an incessant clamour. Predomi- 
 nant among the jarring sounds were, Sir, may I 
 read? May I spell? Master, may I go out? Will 
 master mend my pen? What with the pouting of 
 the small children, 6ent to school, not to learn, but 
 to keep them out of " harm's way," and the gruff, 
 surly complaints of the larger ones, I was nearly 
 distracted. Homer's poluphlosboio thalasscs, roaring 
 sea, was a whisper to it. My resolution, to avoid 
 beating of them, made me invent small punishments, 
 which often have a salutary impression on delicate 
 minds; but they were insensible to shame. The 
 putting of a paper fool's cap on one, and ordering 
 another under my great chair, only excited mirth in 
 
 * From the Algerine Captive. 
 
ROYAL TYLER. 
 
 419 
 
 the school ; which the very delinquents themselves 
 often increased, by loud peals of laughter. Going, 
 one frosty morning, into my school, 1 found one of 
 the larger buys sitting by the fire in my arm chair. 
 I gently requested him to remove. He replied that 
 he would, when he had warmed himself; " father 
 finds wood, and not you." To have my throne 
 usurped, in the face of the whole school, shook my 
 government to the centre. I immediately snatched 
 my two foot rule, and laid it pretty smartly across 
 his back. He quitted the chair, muttering that he 
 would tell father. I found his threats of more con- 
 sequence than I apprehended. The same afternoon, 
 a tall, rawboned man called me to the door; imme- 
 diately collaring me with one hand, and holding a 
 cart whip over my head with the other ; and with 
 fury in his face, he vowed he would whip the skin 
 from my bones, if ever I struck Jotham again : ay, 
 he would do it that very moment, if he was not 
 afraid I would take the law of him. This was the 
 only instance of the overwhelming gratitude of 
 parents I received. The next day, it was reported 
 all over town, what a cruel man the master was. 
 "Poor Jotham came into school, half frozen and 
 near fainting; master had been sitting a whole hour 
 by the warm fire; he only begged him to let him 
 warm himself a little, when the master rose in a 
 rage and cut open his head with the tongs, and his 
 life was despaired of." 
 
 Fatigued with the vexations of my school, I one 
 evening repaired to the tavern, and mixed with 
 some of the young men of the town. Their conver- 
 sation I could not relish; mine they could not com- 
 prehend. The subject of race-horses being intro- 
 duced, I ventured to descant upon Xanthus, the im- 
 mortal courser of Achilles. They had never heard 
 of 'squire Achilles, or his horse; but they offered to 
 bet two to one, that Bajazet, the Old Roan, or the 
 deacon's mare, Pumpkin and Milk, would beat him, 
 and challenged me to appoint time and place. 
 
 Nor was I more acceptable among the young wo- 
 men. Being invited to spend an evening, after a 
 quilting, I thought this a happy opportunity to in- 
 troduce Andromache, the wife of the great Hector, 
 at her loom; and Penelope, the faithful wife of 
 Ulysses, weaving her seven years' web. This was 
 received with a stupid stare, until I mentioned the 
 long time the queen of Ulysses was weaving; when 
 a smart young woman observed, that she supposed 
 Miss Penelope's 3'arn was rotted in whitening, that 
 m;ide her so long: and then told a tedious story of 
 a piece of cotton and linen she had herself woven, 
 under the same circumstances. She had no sooner 
 finished, than, to enforce my observations, I recited 
 above forty lines of Greek, from the Odyssey, and 
 then began a dissertation on the ccenura. In the 
 midst of my harangue, a florid-faced young man, 
 at the further end of the room, with two large pro- 
 minent foreteeth, remarkably white, began to sing — 
 
 Fire upon the mountains, run, boys, run ; 
 
 And immediately the whole company rushed for- 
 ward, to see who should get a chance in the reel of 
 six. 
 
 I was about retiring, fatigued and disgusted, when 
 it was hinted to me, that I might wait on Miss Mima 
 home ; but as I could recollect no word in the Greek, 
 which would construe into bundling, or any of 
 Homer's heroes, who got the bag, I declined. In the 
 Latin, it is true, that ^Eneas and Dido, in the cave, 
 seem something like a precedent. It was reported 
 all over the town, the next day, that master was a 
 popish, as he had talked French two hours. 
 
 Disappointed of recreation among the young, my 
 next object was the minister. Here I expected plea- 
 
 sure and profit. He had spent many years in preach- 
 ing, for the edification of private families, and was 
 settled in the town, in a fit of enthusiasm ; when the 
 people drove away a clergyman, respectable for his 
 years and learning. This he was pleased to call an 
 awakening. He lectured me, at the first onset, for 
 not attending the conference and night meetings; 
 talked much of gifts, and decried human learning, 
 as carnal and devilish, and well he might, he cer- 
 tainly was under no obligations to it ; for a new 
 singing master coming into town, the young people, 
 by their mdster's advice, were for introducing Dr. 
 Watts's version of the Psalms. Although I argued 
 with the minister an hour, lie remains firmly con- 
 vinced, to this day, that the version of Sternhold 
 and Hopkins is the same in language, letter and 
 metre, with those Psalms King David chauuted, in 
 the city of Jerusalem. 
 
 As for the independence I had founded on my 
 wages, it vanished, like the rest of my scholastic 
 prospects. I had contracted some debts. My re- 
 quest for present payment, was received with 
 astonishment. I found I was not to expect it, until 
 the next autumn, and then not in cash, but produce ; 
 to become my own collector, and to pick up my 
 dues, half a peck of corn or rye in a place. 
 
 I was almost distracted, and yearned for the ex- 
 piration of my contract, when an unexpected period 
 was put to my distress. News was brought, that, 
 by the carelessness of the boys, the school-house was 
 burnt down. The common cry now was, that I 
 ought, in justice, to pay for it; as to my want of 
 proper government the carelessness of the boys 
 ought to be imputed. The beating of Jotham was 
 forgotten, and a thousand stories of my want of pro- 
 per spirit circulated. These reports, and even the 
 loss of a valuable Gradus ad Pamassum, did not 
 damp my joy. I am sometimes led to believe, that 
 my emancipation from real slavery in Algiers, did 
 not afford me sincerer joy, than 1 experienced at 
 that moment. 
 
 I returned to my father, who received me with 
 kindness. My mother heard the story of my dis- 
 comfitures with transport ; as, she said, she had no 
 doubt that her dream, about uiy falling into the 
 hands of savages, was now out. 
 
 ANECDOTES OF DE. BENJAMIN FRANELIN', WHOM THE AUTHOE 
 VISITS IN PniLADELPUIA. 
 
 One not vers'd in schools, 
 But strong in sense, and wise without the rules. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 I carried a request to the late Doctor Benjamin 
 Franklin, then president of the state of Pennsylva- 
 nia, for certain papers, I was to deliver further 
 southward. I anticipated much pleasure, from the 
 interview with this truly great man : To see one, 
 who, from small beginnings, by the sole exertion 
 of native genius, and indefatigable industry, had 
 raised himself to the pinnacle of polities and letters; 
 a man, who, from an humble porter's boy, had ele- 
 vated himself to be the desirable companion of the 
 great ones of the earth : who, from trundling a 
 wheelbarrow in bye lanes, had been advanced to 
 pass in splendour through the courts of kings; and, 
 from hawking vile ballads, to the contracting and 
 signing treaties, which gave peace and independence 
 to three millions of his fellow citizens, was a sight 
 interesting in the extreme. 
 
 I found the doctor surrounded by company, most 
 of whom were j'oung people. He received me with 
 the attention due to a young stranger. He dispatch- 
 ed a person for the papers I wanted ; asked me 
 politely to be seated; inquired after the family I 
 sprang from ; and told me a pleasing anecdote of my 
 
420 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE 
 
 biave ancestor, Captain Underbill. I found, in the 
 doctor, all that simplicity of language, which is re- 
 markable in the fragment of his life, published since 
 his decease; and which was conspicuous in my 
 medical preceptor. I have since been in a room a 
 few hours with Governour Jay, of New York; have 
 heard of the late Governour Livingston, of New 
 Jersey ; and am now confirmed in the opinion, I have 
 suggested, that men of genuine merit, as thej' possess 
 the essence, need not the parade of great knowledge. 
 A rich man is often plain in his attire, and the man, 
 who has abundant treasures of learning, simple in 
 his manners and style. 
 
 The doctor, in early life, was economical from 
 principle ; in his latter days, perhaps from habit. 
 Poor Richard held the purse strings of the president 
 of Pennsylvania. Permit me to illustrate this ob- 
 servation by an anecdote. Soon after I was intro- 
 duced, a?i aiiy, thoughtless relation, from a New 
 England state, entered the room. It seems he was 
 on a party of pleasure, and had been so much in- 
 volved in it, for three weeks, as not to have paid his 
 respects to his venerable relative. The purpose of 
 his present visit was, to solicit the loan of a small 
 sum of money, to enable him to pay his bills, and 
 transport himself home. He preluded his request, 
 with a detail of embarrassments, which might have 
 befallen the most circumspect. He said that he had 
 
 loaded a vessel for B , and as he did not deal oa 
 
 credit, had purchased beyond his current cash, and 
 could not readily procure a draft upon home. The 
 doctor, inquiring how much he wanted, he replied, 
 with some hesitation, fifty dollars. Ihe benevolent 
 old gentleman went to his escritoir, and counted him 
 out an hundred. He received them with many pro- 
 mises of punctual payment, and hastily took up the 
 writing implements, to draught a note of hand, for 
 the cash, 'ihe doctor, who saw the nature of the 
 borrower's embarrassments, better than he was 
 aware; and was possessed with the improbability of 
 ever recovering his cash again, stepped across the 
 room, laying his hand gently upon his cousin's arm, 
 said, stop cousin, we will save the paper; a quarter 
 of a sheet is not of great value, but it is worth 
 saving: conveying, at once, a liberal gift and gentle 
 reprimand for the borrower's prevarication and ex- 
 travagance. Since I am talking of Franklin, the 
 reader may be as unwilling to leave him as I wns. 
 Allow me to relate another anecdote. I do not 
 recollect how the conversation was introduced; but 
 a young person in company mentioned his surprise, 
 that the possession of great riches should ever be 
 attended with such anxiety and solicitude; and in- 
 stanced Mr. R K , who, he said, though in 
 
 possession of unbounded wealth, yet was as busy 
 and more anxious, than the most assiduous clerk in 
 his counting-house. The doctor took an apple from 
 a fruit basket, and presented it to a little child, who 
 could just totter about the room. The child could 
 scarce grasp it in his hand, lie then gave it another, 
 which occupied the other hand. Then choosing a 
 third, remarkable for its size and beauty, he present- 
 ed that also. Ihe child, after many ineffectual at- 
 tempts to hold the three, dropped the last on the 
 carpet, and burst into tears. Bee there, said the phi- 
 losopher ; there is a little man, with more riches than 
 he can enjoy. 
 
 ALEXANDRE ILAMILTON. 
 
 Alexander Hamilton, the soldier, statesman, 
 and jurist, the right arm of Washington in peace 
 and war, was not a native of the United States, 
 though no name is more thoroughly American in 
 its associations than his in our home annals. He 
 
 was born in St. Kitts, one of the West India Is- 
 lands, January 11, 1757. His grandfather was a 
 gentleman of Ayrshire, in Scotland, whence his 
 father emigrated to St. Kitts, where he became 
 bankrupt as a merchant. He married at that 
 island a widow of Huguenot descent, and thus hi? 
 son, Alexander Hamilton, may have inherited the 
 Scottish strength with the French vivacity of 
 character. He certainly possessed both these 
 qualities in a very eminent degree, and exhibited 
 them at a very early age. When he attained 
 fortune and influence in New York, he earnestly 
 invited his father to join him ; but his health not 
 suffering him to leave the southern climate, the 
 son contributed to his support till his death in 
 1799. His mother, who died in his childhood, 
 lie recollected as his warm nature and her quali- 
 ties demanded, says his own son and biographer. 
 " with inexpressible fondness." Upon her death, 
 he was under the care of her relations at St. 
 Croix acquiring a limited West India education, 
 with such progress in general reading as his own 
 powers of mind and the acquaintance of a Pres- 
 byterian clergyman directed. At twelve years of 
 age he is in the counting-house of Nicholas Cru- 
 ger, a New York merchant, transacting business 
 in the island, who took the strongest interest in 
 his prosperity, and by whom his good reception, 
 when he went to America, was greatly promoted. 
 For these good services Hamilton always enter- 
 tained the warmest recollections. When upon the 
 death of Cruger a litigation grew out of his will, 
 Hamilton defended and secured the rights of his 
 family, steadily refusing any compensation: and 
 when upon Hamilton's death, a recompense for 
 his services was offered to his widow, it was met 
 by the production of a paper written by Hamilton, 
 in his last hours, enjoining his family never to 
 receive money from any of the name of Cruger; 
 so far did he carry his sense of the early kindness 
 shown him. 
 
 A letter of that date, 1769, shows the ardent 
 ambition of the boy, and the fire at that early age 
 pent up within him. He writes to a school-fellow 
 at New York: " To confess my weakness, Ned, my 
 ambition is prevalent, so that I contemn the gro- 
 velling condition of a clerk, or the like, to which, 
 my fortune condemns me, and would willingly 
 risk my life, though not my character, to exalt 
 my station. I am confident, Ned, that my youth 
 excludes me from any hopes of immediate prefer- 
 ment, nor do I desire it ; but I me:m to prepare 
 the way for futurity. I'm no philosopher, you 
 see, and may be justly said to build castles in the 
 air; my folly makes me ashamed, and beg yon'li 
 conceal it; yet, Neddy, we have seen such 
 schemes successful when the projector is constant. 
 I shall conclude by saying I wish there wns a 
 war." There was nothing of the indolence of 
 the tropics in this language. " The child was 
 father of the man." He was a thorough mer- 
 chant's clerk, as he was afterwards the finan- 
 cier of the new states even then struggling into 
 being on the main land. A description of a storm 
 among the islands, which he wrote at the age 
 of fifteen, influenced his friends in sending him to 
 New York to pursue his studies. He landed at 
 Boston, October, 1772, and passing to New York 
 was introduced to the good society of the place. 
 He studied Lard at the school of Francis Far- 
 
ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 
 
 421 
 
 ber* at Elizahethtown, and enjoyed the intimacy 
 of Governor Livingston ; practising his pen all the 
 while in such occasional verses as an elegy, and a 
 prologue and epilogue for a play acted hy British 
 soldiers in the neighborhood. He presented him- 
 self to- Dr. Witherspoon at Princeton College, 
 with the intention of passing as rapidly through 
 the classes as his powers would permit. This pri- 
 vilege, was not allowed by the rules of the insti- 
 tution, and he entered King's, after the Revolu- 
 tion Columbia College at New York, ne exer- 
 cised his talents as a speaker in a debating club 
 of the college ; and his ready pen in doggrel 
 rhymes at the expense of the ministerial writers 
 who attacked John Holt's Whig newspaper. His 
 character exhibited itself at this time in his strong 
 devotional feeling. 
 
 His first step in public affairs was memorable, 
 and, as it is related in his memoirs, would form a 
 worthy scene for the pencil of the artist. A meet- 
 ing of the people of New York was called in The 
 Fields to consider the questions preparatory to a 
 general congress. It was one of the most impor- 
 tant occasions in the city of the early Revolu- 
 tionary period. Hamilton was then seventeen. 
 His patriotism had just been excited by a visit to 
 Boston, then the school of Revolution, where 
 Trumbull at the same time learnt the lesson of 
 freedom. The story is thus told by his biogra- 
 pher. 
 
 " It has been related to have been his habit to 
 walk several hours each day under the shade of 
 some largs trees which stood in Batteau, now 
 Dey street, talking to himself in an under tone of 
 voic;, apparently engaged in deep thought, a 
 practice which he continued through life. This 
 circumstance attracted the attention of his neigh- 
 bors, to whom he was known as the 'young 
 West Indian,' and led them to engage in conver- 
 sation with him. One of them remarking the 
 vigor and maturity of his thoughts, urged him to 
 address this meeting, to which all the patriots 
 were looking with the greatest interest. From 
 this seeming intrusion he at first recoiled ; but 
 after listening attentively to the successive speak- 
 ers, and finding several points untouched, he pre- 
 sented himself to the assembled multitude. The 
 novelty of the attempt, his youthful countenance, 
 his slender and diminutive form, awakened curi- 
 osity and arrested attention. Overawed by the 
 scene before him, ho at first hesitated and fal- 
 tered ; but as ho proceeded almost unconsciously 
 to utter his accustomed reflections, his mind 
 warmed with the theme, his energies were reco- 
 vered ; and after a discussion clear, cogent, and 
 novel, of the great principles involved in the con- 
 troversy, he depicted in glowing colors the long 
 continued and long endured oppressions of the 
 mother country ; lie insisted on the duty of re- 
 sistance, pointed to the means and certainty of 
 
 * Francis Barber, who was of Irish parentage, was born at 
 Princeton, New Jersey, in 1751. where he received his educa- 
 tion, and was afterwards in charge of an academy at Elizabeth- 
 town On the breaking out of the Revolution he was an officer 
 In the Jersey service, and rose to the rank of Colonel, being 
 actively engaged in Ihe rccnes of the war. He was present at 
 the capture of Yorktown. He met with his death in a singular 
 manner by a tree falling on him as be passed the edge of a 
 wood in the discharge of his duty as a soldier in camp with 
 Washington at New Windsor.— Nat. Portrait Gallery, 2d Ed. 
 1S35. 
 
 success, and described the waves of rebellion spark- 
 ling with fire, and washing back on the shores of 
 England the wrecks of her power, her wealth, and 
 her glory. The breathless silence ceased as he 
 closed; and the whispered murmur, 'it is a col- 
 legian! it is a collegian!' was lost in loud ex- 
 pressions of wonder and applause at the extra- 
 ordinary eloquence of the young stranger."* 
 
 The orator was thus launched on the troubled 
 waters of the times. The writer soon plunged 
 after. One of his first efforts seems to have been 
 a newspaper reply to some Tory argument by 
 the President of his college, the youthful Myles 
 Cooper, and his earliest distinct publication, a 
 pamphlet issued by Rivington, a reply to a go- 
 vernment tract of the times, in which Dr. Sea- 
 bury (afterwards the Bishop) had a hand.t The 
 argument of this piece of Hamilton's is direct, the 
 language nervous. Two brief sentences are al- 
 ready in this early effort Hamiltonian tests of 
 the future statesman. Addressing the farmers he 
 intimates that he affects no class partialities for 
 them as such, and adds, " I despise all false pre- 
 tensions and mean arts." A few sentences fur- 
 ther on, " (iive me the steady, uniform, unshaken 
 security of constitutional freedom." A second 
 pamphlet' followed February, 1775, from his pen, 
 of noticeable vigor.J President Cooper thought 
 Mr. Jay must have written it, for Hamilton was 
 quite too young for such a production. 
 
 There was a third character in which he was 
 to be known to his countrymen — the soldier. 
 While still a collegian he was engaged with some 
 of the youth of the city in military exercises in 
 the churchyard of St. George's chapel. They 
 called their company the " Hearts of Oak." It 
 was sufficiently organized to be detailed by the 
 revolutionary committee to the work of removing 
 the cannon. from the Battery. A boat from the 
 Asia man-of-war was fired upon, and several citi- 
 zens killed by the return broadside from the ship. 
 Hamilton, undisturbed by a fallen comrade, ac- 
 complished his work. A convention of the towns- 
 people ensued, which drove Dr. Cooper from the 
 college, and for a while Toryism and literature 
 were at a discount. 
 
 We have now seen Hamilton fully embarked 
 on his great American career, and must pass 
 rapidly over the incidents of his manhood, barely 
 alluding to his early engagement in the camp 
 with Washington, at the age of twenty, in 1777 ; 
 his military life, by the side of his great leader, 
 from Trenton to Yorktown, in which his bravery 
 and capacity were always distinguished, and 
 the services of his pen in the army correspon- 
 
 * Life of Hamilton, by J. C. Hamilton, i. 22. 
 
 + Hamilton's pamphlet was entitled, U A full Vindication of the 
 Measures of Congress from the Calumnies of their enemies, in 
 answer to a Letter under the signature of a W, Farmer; 
 whereby his sopltdstry is exposed, his cavils confuted, his arti- 
 fices detected, and bis wit ridiculed in a General Address to 
 the Inhabitants of America, aed a Particular Address to the 
 Farmers of the Province of Arte York. Veritas magna est et 
 prevalebit. Truth is powerful and will prevail. New York. 
 Printed by James P.ivington. 1774. 
 
 % The Farmer Refuted; or, a more comprehensive and im-* 
 partial view of the Disputes between Great Britain and tbo 
 Colonies. Intended as a further Vindication of tho Congress in 
 answer to a letter from a Westchester Farmer, entitled a View 
 of the Controversy between Great Britain and her Colonies, 
 including a mode of determining the present disputes finally 
 and effectually, &c By a sincere fiiecd to America. Tituli 
 remedia pollicentur. sed pixedes ipsa; venena continent. The 
 title promises remedies, but the box itself poisons. 
 
422 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 dence. Two incidents of the war may be men- 
 tioned, for the light which they throw upon his 
 character — his momentary difficulty with Gene- 
 ral Washington, showing his high sense of honor 
 and the spur of his southern birth, and his pathe- 
 tic considerate conduct on the capture of Major 
 Andre, to whom, while his judgment acquiesced 
 in his rigorous fate, his tenderness was un- 
 bounded. There is no finer written pathos in 
 our history than Hamilton's account, sent to 
 Laurens, of the treason of Arnold and the death 
 of Andrt .* The delicacy with which Arnold's 
 wife is mentioned ; the sensitiveness and almost 
 reverence with which he writes about the last 
 offices to the gallant sufferer; the ardor of his 
 emotion, which inspires such subtle and eloquent 
 reflections as his remarks on war, that "the author- 
 ized maxims and practices of war are the satires 
 of human nature" — and of Andre, that " never, 
 perhaps, did any man suffer death with more 
 justice, or deserve it less." These are noble 
 monuments of the man. 
 
 In 1780, Hamilton was married on the 14th 
 December to the second daughter of General 
 Schuyler, who survived her husband for half a 
 century, dying at the age of ninety-six in the 
 autumn of 1854. 
 
 In 1782, he withdrew from public life, which 
 then opened to him some of its rewards, in occu- 
 pation in the service of his country abroad, and 
 devoted himself at Albany to the incessant study 
 of the law for four months, when he was ad- 
 mitted to the Supreme Court. At the close of 
 the year he took his seat in Congress, and is 
 henceforth in political life. Becoming a delegate 
 from New York to the Congress of 1787 which 
 formed the Constitution, which is identified with 
 his name as associated with Jay and Madison, he 
 defended its provisions, and asserted its principles 
 in the pages of the Federalist, while it was before 
 the several states for adoption. Of the eighty-five 
 numbers of which this work was composed, fifty- 
 
 * It is printed in the first volume of tho Lifo, by bis son. 
 
 one were by Hamilton ; Jay wrote but five, and 
 Madison the remainder.* The introduction and 
 conclusion were from the pen of Hamilton. He 
 also took the main discussion of the important 
 points in respect to the taxation and the revenue, 
 the army and militia, the power of the Executive, 
 and the Judiciary. 
 
 When the Constitution — which he had done so 
 much to organize and secure, both for the country 
 at large and for his own state in the New York 
 Convention — went into effect with the Presidency 
 of Washington, that great man again called Hamil- 
 ton to his side in the important po-t — perhaps 
 the most important then in the national affairs — of 
 Secretary of the Treasury. His cabinet papers and 
 practical achievements in this position establish 
 his great financial reputation. It was in allusion 
 to these financial exertions and abilities that 
 Daniel Webster paid an eloquent tribute to the 
 genius of Hamilton in a public dinner speech in 
 New York. " He smote the rock of the national 
 resources, and abundant streams of revenue gushed 
 forth. He touched the dead corpse of the public 
 credit, and it sprung upon its feet.'"t 
 
 On the fourth of July, 1789, ho delivered an 
 Eulogium on Major-Gcneral Greene before the 
 Society of the Cincinnati, in which he gave full 
 expression to his admiration of the life of that 
 distinguished officer and friend of Washington, 
 and traced his military career in a succinct and 
 forcible narrative. It is a model for compositions 
 of its class. 
 
 The letters of Pacificus, in 1793, exhibit his 
 course when France urged the abandonment of 
 American neutrality. When, in the Presidency 
 of Adams, Washington was invited to the com- 
 mand of the national forces, on the prospect of an 
 attack from France, he paid a last compliment to 
 the military genius of his friend and aide of the 
 Revolution. He stipulated that Hamilton should 
 be his second in command. On the death of 
 Washington he became Commander-in-Chief. 
 
 The too brief remainder of Hamilton's life was 
 passed in New York, in the practice of the law 
 and the agitations of politics, till his fatal and 
 unnecessary duel with Burr, at Weehawken, closed 
 his life July 12, 1804. His last great legal effort 
 was made but a short time before his death, in 
 Feb., 1804, being his argument on the law of 
 libel in the Supreme Court of the State of New 
 York, in the case of the People against Harry 
 Croswell, on an indictment for a libel on Jeffer- 
 son, in which he maintained the popular privi- 
 lege of the jury in the decision of both law and. 
 fact. 
 
 Never was American more sincerely mourned. 
 The eloquence of the pulpit, the bar, and the press, 
 was expended in oration, discourse, and eulogium. j 
 
 * The Federalist originally appeared in the columns of the 
 New York Daily Advertiser. The papers were collected and 
 published in two neat duodecimo volumes, by J. & A. MXean, 
 New York, 17SS; another edition appeared during Hamilton's 
 lifetime, in 1SC2, from the press of George F. Hopkins New 
 York. The papers were also included in an edition of Hamil- 
 ton's works, in three vols., by Williams & Whiting, New York, 
 1S10. In ISIS, an edition was published by Jacob Gideon at 
 Washington, which embraced tho revisions by Madison of lib 
 papers. 
 
 T Speech, Feb., 1831. 
 
 J Coleman, of the Evening Post, published a memorial of the 
 occasion in A Collection of the Facts and Documents relative 
 to the Death of Major-Goncral Alexander Hamilton ; with 
 
ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 
 
 423 
 
 Gouverneur Morris delivered his funeral oration. 
 Dr. Mason pronounced his Eulogy in the pulpit. 
 
 His federal compatriot and friend, the eminent 
 Fisher Ames, horrowed the language of Scripture 
 in mourning over his death, and measuring his 
 probable earthly future, had he lived by his 
 undoubted past, vented his feelings in the excla- 
 mation, that " his soul stiffened with despair 
 when he thought what Hamilton would have 
 been."* 
 
 In 1851, an edition of the works of Hamilton, 
 including his correspondence and official paper?, 
 with the exception of the Federalist, was published 
 with the assistance of Oongress.t It was pre- 
 pared by John C. Hamilton. In the last volume, 
 two papers are given from the original MS. of 
 Hamilton bearing upon Washington's Farewell 
 Address : one, an Abstract of Points to form an 
 Address, the other, a draft in full, the variations 
 from which, as delivered, are noted. This, with 
 the previous publication by Mr. Lenox, com- 
 pleted the materials for the study of the prepara- 
 tion of this interesting document.]: 
 
 THE FATE OP MAJOR ANDRE. 
 
 A Letter from Hamilton to La/urena.% 
 
 Since my return from Hartford, my dear Laurens, 
 my mind has been too little at ease to permit me to 
 write to you sooner. It has been wholly occupied by 
 the affecting and tragic consequences of Arnold's 
 treason. My feelings were never put to so severe a 
 trial. You will no doubt have heard the principal 
 facts before this reaches you ; but there are particu- 
 lars to which my situation gave me access, that can- 
 not have come to your knowledge from public 
 report, which I am persuaded you will find interest- 
 ing. 
 
 From 6everal circumstances, the project seems to 
 have originated with Arnold himself, and to have 
 been long premeditated. The first overture is 
 traced back to some time in June last. It was con- 
 veyed in a letter to Colonel Robinson, the substance 
 of which was, that the ingratitude he had expe- 
 rienced from Ins country, concurring with other 
 causes, had entirely changed his principles; that he 
 now only sought to restore himself to the favour of 
 his king by some signal proof of his repentance, and 
 would be happy to open a correspondence with Sir 
 Henry Clinton for that purpose. About this period 
 
 Comments: together with the various Orations, Sermons, and 
 Eulogies that have been published or written on his Life and 
 Character. Quoad humanum genus incolume manscrit, quam- 
 diu usus Uteris, honor sumniffiEi iqaentiffi pretium erit, qnam- 
 diu rerum natura aut fortuna steterit, aut memoria duraverit, 
 admirabile, posterisvigebis ingenium. Aurf.lius Fuscus. By 
 the Editor of the Evening Post. New York: J. Riley & Co., 
 1804. Svo. pp. 23S. 
 
 * Sketch of the Character of Alexander Hamilton, 18(14. 
 
 f The Works of Alexander Hamilton; comprising his Cor- 
 respondence, and his Political and Official Writings, exclusive 
 of the Federalist. Civil and Military. Published from the 
 Original Manuscripts deposited in the Department of State, by 
 order of the Joint Library Committee of Congress. Edited by 
 John C. Hamilton, Author of " The Life of Ham. Hon. 11 7 vols. 
 Svo. New York : Francis & Co. 1851. 
 
 t Ante, p. ISO. 
 
 § The feelings of the whole army were most liberal in be- 
 half of Andre : but none was more impressed with those senti- 
 ments of generosity and sympathy than Colonel Hamilton. 
 He was daily searching some way to save him. Every wish 
 to that effect having proved impossible, Hamilton, who was as 
 sensible as any other of that impossibility, and one of those 
 who lamented it the most, published a narrative of tho events, 
 aud a portraiture of the unfortunate Andre, which is a mastcr- 
 
 {)iece of literary talents and amiable sensibility. As it em- 
 )races all the essential circumstances of this interesting scene, 
 and has been erroneously published, it may not improperly be 
 introduced into the biography of its author. — Note- by J. C. 
 Hamilton in Via " Life." 
 
 he made a journey to Connecticut; on his return 
 from which to Philadelphia, he solicited the com- 
 mand of West Point, alleging that the effects of his 
 wound had disqualified him for the active duties of 
 the field. The sacrifice of this important post was 
 the atonement he intended to make. General Wash- 
 ington hesitated the less to gratify an officer who 
 had rendered such eminent services, as he was con- 
 vinced the post might be safely entrusted to one 
 who had given so many distinguished proofs of his 
 bravery. In the beginning of August he joined the 
 army, and renewed his application. The enemy at 
 this juncture had embarked the greatest part of 
 their force on an expedition to Rhode Island, and 
 our army was in motion to compel them to relin- 
 quish the enterprise, or to attack New York in its 
 weakened state. The General offered Arnold the 
 left wing of the army, which he declined, on the 
 pretext already mentioned, but not without visible 
 embarrassment. He certainly might have executed 
 the duties of such a temporary command, and it was 
 expected from his enterprising temper, that he would 
 gladly have embraced so splendid an opportunity. 
 Hut he did not choose to be diverted a moment 
 from his favourite object; probably from an appre- 
 hension, that some different disposition might have 
 taken place which would have excluded him. The 
 extreme solicitude he discovered to get possession of 
 the post, would have led to a suspicion of the 
 treachery, had it been possible, from his past con- 
 duct, to have supposed him capable of it. 
 
 The correspondence thus begun, was carried on 
 between Arnold and Major Andre, Adjutant General 
 to the British army, in behalf of Sir Henry Clinton, 
 under feigned signatures, and in a mercantile dis- 
 guise. In an intercepted letter of Arnold, which 
 lately fell into our hands, he proposes an interview 
 " to settle the risks and profits of the copartnership," 
 and in the same style of metaphor intimates an ex- 
 pected augmentation of the garrison, and speaks of 
 it as the means of extending their traffic. It appears 
 by another letter, that Andre was to have met him 
 on the lines, under the sanction of a flag, in the 
 character of Mr. John Anderson. But some cause 
 or other, not known, prevented this interview. 
 
 The twentieth of last month, Robinson and Andre 1 
 went up the river in the Vulture sloop of war. 
 Robinson sent a flag to Arnold with two letters, one 
 to General Putnam, enclosed in another to himself, 
 proposing an interview with Putnam, or in his 
 absence with Arnold, to adjust some private con- 
 cerns. The one to General Putnam was evidently 
 meant as a cover to the other, in case, by accident, 
 the letters should have fallen under the inspection 
 of a third person. 
 
 General Washington crossed the river on his way 
 to Hartford, the day these despatches arrived. 
 Arnold, conceiving he must have heard of the flag, 
 thought it necessary, for the sake of appearances, to 
 submit the letters to him, and ask his opinion of the 
 propriety of complying with the request. The Ge- 
 neral, with his usual caution, though without the 
 least surmise of the design, dissuaded him from it, 
 and advised him to reply to Robinson, that what- 
 ever related to his private affairs must be of a civil 
 nature, and could only properly be addressed to the 
 civil authority. This reference fortunately deranged 
 the plan, and was the first link in the chain of events 
 that led to the detection. The interview could no 
 longer take place in the form of a flag, but was 
 obliged to be managed in a secret manner. 
 
 Arnold employed one Smith to go on board the 
 Vulture the night of the twenty-second, to bring 
 Andre on shore with a pass for Mr. John Anderson. 
 Andre came ashore accordingly, and was conducted 
 
424: 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 within a pieket of ours to the house of Smith, where 
 Arnold and lie remained together in close confer- 
 ence all that night and the day following. At day- 
 light in the morning, the commanding officer at 
 King's Ferry, without the privity of Arnold, moved 
 a couple of pieces of cannon to a point opposite to 
 where the Vulture lay, and obliged her to take a 
 more remote station. This event, or some lurking 
 distrust, made the boatmen refuse to convey the 
 two passengers back, and disconcerted Arnold so 
 much, that by one of those strokes of infatuation 
 which often confound the schemes of men conscious 
 of guilt, he insisted on Andre's exchanging his uni- 
 form for a disguise, and returning in a mode differ- 
 ent from that in which he came. Andre, who had 
 been undesignedly brought within our posts, in the 
 first instance, remonstrated warmly against this new 
 and dangerous expedient. But Arnold persisting 
 in declaring it impossible for him to return as he 
 came, he at length reluctantly yielded to his direc- 
 tion, and consented to change his dress, and take the 
 route he recommended, bmitk furnished the dis- 
 guise, and in the eveniug passed King's Ferry with 
 him, and proceeded to Crompond, where they stopped 
 the remainder of the night (at the instance of a 
 militia officer), to avoid being suspected by him. 
 The next morning they resumed their journey, 
 Smith accompanying Andre a little beyond Pine's 
 Bridge, where he left him. He had readied Tarry- 
 town, when he was taken up by three militia men, 
 who rushed out of the woods, aud seized his horse. 
 At this critical moment, his presence of mind for- 
 sook him. Instead of producing his pass, which 
 would have extricated him from our parties, and 
 could have done him no harm with his own, he asked 
 the militia men if they were of the upper or lower 
 party, distinctive appellations known among the 
 refugee corps. The militia men replied, they were 
 of the lower party ; upon which he told them he 
 was a British officer, and pressed them not to detain 
 him as he was upon urgent .business. This confes- 
 sion removed all doubt; and it was in vain he after- 
 wards produced his pass. He was instantly forced 
 off to a place of greater security ; where, after a 
 careful search, there were found concealed in the 
 feet of his stockings, several papers of importance 
 delivered to him by Arnold. Among these there 
 were a plan of the fortifications of West Point, a 
 memorial from the engineer on the attack and 
 defence of the place, returns of the garrison, cannon, 
 and stores, copy of the minutes of a council of war 
 held by General Washington a few weeks before. 
 The prisoner at first was inadvertently ordered to 
 Arnold; but on recollection, while still on the way, 
 he was countermanded and sent to Old Salem. 
 
 The papers were enclosed in a letter to General 
 Washington, which having taken a route different 
 from that by which he returned, made a circuit, 
 that afforded leisure for another letter, through an 
 ill-judged delicacy, written to Arnold, with infor- 
 mation of Anderson's capture, to get to him an hour 
 before General Washington arrived at his quarters, 
 time enough to elude the fate that awaited him. 
 He went down the river in his barge to the Vulture, 
 with such precipitate confusion, that he did not take 
 with him a single paper useful to the enemy. On 
 the first notice of the affair he was pursued, but 
 much too late to be overtaken. 
 
 There was some colour for imagining it was a 
 
 Eart of the plan to betray the General into the 
 ands of the enemy : Arnold was very anxious to 
 ascertain from him the precise clay of his return, 
 and the enemj^'s movements seem to have corres- 
 ponded to this point. But if it was really the ease, 
 jt was very injudicious. The success must have 
 
 depended on surprise, and as the officers at the 
 advanced posts were not in the secret, their measures 
 might have given the alarm, aud General Washing*-, 
 ton, taking the command of the post, might have 
 rendered the whole 6cheme abortive. Arnold, it is 
 true, had so dispersed the garrison as to have made 
 a defence difficult, but not impracticable; and the 
 acquisition of West Point was of such magnitude to 
 the enemy, that it would have been unwise to con- 
 nect it with any other object, however gieat, which 
 might make the obtaining of it precarious. 
 
 Arnold, a moment before his setting out, went 
 into Mrs. Arnold's apartment, and informed her that 
 some transactions had just come to light, which 
 must forever banish him from his country. She 
 fell into a swoon at this declaration, aud he left her 
 in it to consult his own safety, till the servants, 
 alarmed by her cries, came to her relief. She 
 remained frantic all day, accusing every one who 
 approached her with an intention to murder her 
 child (an infant in her arms), and exhibiting every 
 other mark of the most genuine and agonizing dis- 
 tress. Exhausted by the fatigue aud tumult of her 
 spirits, her phiei.zy subsided towards evening, and 
 she sunk into all the sadness of affliction. It was 
 impossible not to have been touched with her situa- 
 tion; everything affecting in female tears, or in the 
 misfortunes of beauty, everything pathetic in the 
 wounded tenderness of a wife, or in the appre- 
 hensive fondness of a mother, and, till I have rea- 
 son to charge the opinion, I will add, everything 
 amiable in Buffering innocence, conspired to make 
 her an object of sympathy to all who were present. 
 She experienced the most delicate attentions, and 
 every friendly office, till her departure for Philadel- 
 phia. 
 
 Andre was, without loss of time, conducted to the 
 head-quarters of the army, where he was imme- 
 diately brought before a board of general officers, to 
 prevent all possibility of misrepresentation or cavil 
 on the part of the enemy. 
 
 The board leported that he ought to be considered 
 as a spy, and according to the laws and usages of 
 nations, to suffer death, which was executed two 
 days after. 
 
 Never, perhaps, did any man suffer death with 
 more justice, or deserve it less. The first step ho 
 took after his enptui e, was to write a letter to Gene- 
 ral Washington, conceived in terms of dignity with- 
 out insolence, and apology without meanness. The 
 scope of it was to vindicate himself from the impu- 
 tation of having assumed a mean character, for 
 treacherous or interested purposes; asserting that 
 he had been involuntarily an im poster; that contrary 
 to his intention, which was to meet a person for in- 
 telligence on neutral ground, he had been betrayed 
 within our posts, and forced into the vile condition 
 of an enemy in disguise; soliciting only that to 
 whatever rigour policy might devote him, a decency 
 of treatment might be observed due to a person 
 who, though unfortunate, had been guilty of nothing 
 dishonourable. His request was granted in its full 
 extent; for in the whole progress of the affair, ho 
 was treated with the most scrupulous delicacy. 
 When brought before the board of officers, he met 
 with every mark of indulgence, and was required 
 to answer no interrogatory which would even em- 
 barrass his feelings. On his part, while he carefully 
 concealed everything that might implicate others, 
 he frankly confessed all the facts relating to him- 
 self, and upon his confession, without the trouble of 
 examining a witness, the board made their report. 
 The members were not more impressed with the 
 candour and firmness, mixed with a becoming sen- 
 sibility, which he displayed, than he was penetrated 
 
ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 
 
 425 
 
 with their liberality and politeness. He acknow- 
 ledged the generosity of the behaviour towards him 
 in every respect, but particularly in this, in the 
 strongest terms of manly gratitude. In a conversa- 
 tion with a gentleman who visited him after bis 
 trial, he said, he flattered himself he had never been 
 Illiberal , but if there were any remains of prejudice 
 in his mind, his present experience must obliterate 
 them. 
 
 In one of the visits I made to him (and I saw him 
 several times during his confinement), lie begged 
 me to be the bearer of a request to the General, for 
 permission to send an open letter to Sir Henry 
 Clinton. " I foresee rny fate," said he, " and though 
 I pretend not to play the hero, or to be indifferent 
 about life, yet I am reconciled to whatever may 
 happen, conscious that misfortune, not guilt, has 
 brought it upon me. There is o ily one thing that 
 disturbs my tranquillity. Sir Henry Clinton bios 
 been too good to me; he has been lavish of his kind- 
 ness ; I am bound to him by too many obligations, 
 and love him too well to bear the thong it tnat lie 
 should reproach himself, or others should reproach 
 him, o 1 the supposition of my having conceived 
 myself obliged, by his instructions, to run the risk I 
 did. I would not, for the world, leave a sting in 
 his mind that should embitter his future days." He 
 could scarce finish, the sentence . bursting into tears, 
 in spite of his efforts to suppress them, and with 
 difficulty collecting himself e lough afterwards to 
 add, " I wish to be permitted to assure him, I did 
 not act under this impression, bat submitted to a 
 necessity impose I upon me, as contrary to my own 
 inclinations, as to his orders." His request was 
 readily complied with, and he wrote the letter an- 
 nexe 1, with which I dare say you wilt be as much 
 please I as I am, both for the sentiment and diction. 
 
 When bis sentence was announce 1 to him, he 
 remarke 1, that since it was bis lot to die, there was 
 Gtill a choice in the mode, which would make a 
 material difference to his feelings; and he would be 
 happy, if possible, to be indulged witli a professional 
 death. He made a second application by letter, in 
 concise but persuasive terms. It was thought that 
 tliis indulgence, being incompatible with the cus- 
 toms of war, could not be granted ; and it was, 
 therefore, determined, in both cases, to evade an 
 answer, to spare him the sensations, which a certain 
 knowledge of the intended mode would inflict. 
 
 In going to the place of execution, he bowed fami- 
 liarly as he went along, to all those with whom he 
 had been acquainted in bis confinement. A smile 
 of complacency expressed the serene fortitude of his 
 mind. Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked, with 
 some emotion, "must I then die in this manner?" 
 He was told it had been unavoidable. " I am recon- 
 ciled to my fate (said he), but not to the mode." 
 Soon, however, recollecting himself, he added, " it 
 will be but a momentary pang;" and springing upon 
 the cart, performed the last offices to himself, with a 
 composure that excited the admiration and melted 
 the hearts of the beholders. Upon being told the 
 final moment was at band, and asked if he had any- 
 thing to say, he answered, " nothing, but to request 
 you will witness to the world, that I die like a 
 brave man." Among the extraordinary circum- 
 stances that attended him, in the midst of bis 
 enemies he died universally regretted, and univer- 
 sally esteemed. 
 
 There was something singularly interesting in the 
 character and fortunes of Andre. To an excellent 
 understanding, well improved by education and 
 travel, he united a peculiar elegance of mind and 
 manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person. 
 It is said, he possessed a pretty taste for the fine 
 
 arts, and had himself attained some proficiency in 
 poetry, music, and painting. His knowledge ap- 
 peared without ostentation, and embellished by a 
 diffidence that rarely accompanies so many talents 
 and accomplishments, which left you to suppose 
 more than appeared. 
 
 His sentiments were elevated, and inspired 
 esteem ; — they had a softness that conciliated affec- 
 tion. His elocution was handsome; his address 
 easy, polite, and insinuating. By his merit, he bad 
 acquired the unlimited confidence of his General, 
 and was making a rapid progress in military rank 
 and reputation. But. in the height of bis career, 
 flushed with new hopes from the execution of a pro- 
 ject the most beneficial to his party that could be 
 devised, be was at once precipitated from the sum- 
 mit of prosperity, and saw all the expectations of 
 his ambition blasted, and himself ruined. 
 
 The character I have given of him, is drawn 
 partly from what 1 saw of him myself, and partly 
 from information. I am aware, that a man of real 
 merit is never seen in so favourable a light as 
 through the medium of adversity. The clouds that 
 surround lain are shades that set off his goo 1 quali- 
 ties. Misfortune cuts down the little vanities, that 
 in prosperous times serve as so many spots in his 
 virtues, and gives a tone of humility that makes his 
 worth more amiable. His spectators, who enjoy a 
 happier lot, are less prone to detract from it through 
 envy; and are more disposed by compassion to give 
 him the credit he deserves, and perhaps even to 
 magnify it. 
 
 1 speak not of Andre's conduct in this affair as a 
 philosopher, but as a man of the world. The author- 
 ized maxims and practices of war are the satires of 
 human nature. They countenance almost every 
 species of seduction, as well as violence; and the 
 General who can make most traitors in the army of 
 his adversary is frequently most applauded. On 
 this scale we acquit Andre, while we would not but 
 condemn him if we were to examine his conduct by 
 the sober rules of philosophy and moral rectitude. 
 It is, however, a blemish on his fame, that he once 
 intended to prostitute a flag, — about this, a man of 
 nice honour ought to have find a scruple; b.it the 
 temptation was great. Let his misfortunes east a 
 veil over his error. 
 
 Several letters from Sir Henry Clinton, and others, 
 were received in the course of the. affair, feebly 
 attempting to prove that Andre came out under the 
 protection of a flag, with a passport from a general 
 officer in actual service; and consequently could 
 not be justly detained. Clinton sent a deputation, 
 composed of Lieutenant-General Robinson, Mr. El- 
 liot, and Mr. William Smith, to represent, as he said, 
 the true state of Major Andres case. General 
 Greene met Robinson, and bad a conversation with 
 him, in which he reiterated the pretence of a flag, 
 urged Andre's release as a personal favour to Sir 
 Henry Clinton, and offered any friend of ours in 
 their power in exchange. Nothing could have been 
 more frivolous than the plea winch was used. Tho 
 fact was, that besides the time, manner, ob'ect of 
 the interview, change of dress, and other circum- 
 stances, there was not a single formality customary 
 with flags; and the passport was not to Major 
 Andre, but to Mr. Anderson. But had there been, 
 on the contrary, all the formalities, it would be an 
 abuse of language to say, that the sanction of a flag, 
 for corrupting an officer to betray his trust, ought 
 to be respected. So unjustifi ible a purpose would 
 not only destroy its validity, but make it an aggra- 
 vation. 
 
 Andre himself has answered the argument, by 
 ridiculing and exploding the idea, i:i bis examination 
 
426 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 before the board of officers. It was a weakness to 
 urge it. 
 
 There was, in truth, no way of saving him. 
 Arnold or he must have been the victim ; the for- 
 mer was out of our power 
 
 It was by some suspected, Arnold had taken his 
 measures in such a manner, that if the interview 
 had been discovered in the act, it might have been 
 in his power to sacrifice Andre to his own security. 
 This surmise of double treachery, made them ima- 
 gine Clinton would be induced to give up Arnold 
 for Andre ; and a gentleman took occasion to sug- 
 gest the expedient to the latter, as a thing that 
 might be proposed by him. He declined it. The 
 moment he had been capable of so much frailty, I 
 Bhould have ceased to esteem him. 
 
 The infamy of Arnold's conduct, previous to his 
 desertion, is only equalled by his baseness since. 
 Besides the folly of writing to Sir Henry Clinton, 
 that Andre had acted under a passport from him, 
 and according to his directions, while commanding 
 officer at a post, and that therefore he did not 
 doubt he would be immediately sent in, he had the 
 effrontery to write to General Washington in the 
 same spirit, with the addition of a menace of retalia- 
 tion, if the sentence should be carried into execution. 
 He has since acted the farce of sending in his resig- 
 nation. This man is, in every sense, despicable. In 
 addition to the scene of knavery and prostitution 
 during his command in Philadelphia, which the late 
 seizure of his papers has unfolded, the history of his 
 command at West Point is a history of little as well 
 as great villanies. He practised every art of pecu- 
 lation; and even Btooped to connexion with the 
 suttlers of the garrison to defraud the public. 
 
 To his conduct, that of the captors of Andre 
 formed a striking contrast. He tempted them with 
 the offer of his watch, his horse, and any sum 
 of money they should name. They rejected his 
 offers with indignation ; and the gold that could 
 seduce a man high in the esteem and confidence of 
 his country, who had the remembrance of past ex- 
 ploits, the motives of present reputation and future 
 glory, to prop his integrity, had no charms for three 
 simple peasants, leaning ordy on their virtue and an 
 honest sense of their duty. While Arnold is handed 
 down, with execration, to future times, posterity 
 will repeat with reverence the names of Van Wart, 
 Paulding, and Williams. 
 
 I congratulate my friend on our happy escape 
 from the mischiefs with which this treason was big. 
 It is a new comment on the value of an honest man, 
 and, if it were possible, would endear you to me 
 more than ever. Adieu. 
 
 FROM TnE EULOGIUM ON GEN. GREENE, UEFOEE THE SOCIETY 
 OF THE CINCINNATI. 
 
 There is no duty that could have been assigned to 
 me by this society which I should execute with 
 greater alacrity than the one I am now called upon 
 to perform. All the motives capable of interesting 
 an ingenuous and feeling mind conspire to prompt me 
 to its execution. To commemorate the talents, vir- 
 tues, and exploits, of great and good men, is at all 
 times a pleasing task to those who know how to es- 
 teem them. But when such men, to the title of 
 superior merit, join that of having been the defend- 
 ers and guardians of our country; when they have 
 been connected with us as companions in the same 
 dangers, sufferings, misfortunes, and triumphs; when 
 they have been allied to us in the still more endear- 
 ing character of friends ; we recall the ideas of their 
 worth with sensations that affect us yet more nearly, 
 and feel an involuntary propensity to consider their 
 fame as our own. We seem to appropriate to our- 
 
 selves the good they have done ; and to take a per- 
 sonal interest in the glory they have acquired ; and 
 to share in the very praise we bestow. 
 
 In entering upon a subject in which your feelings 
 as well as my own are so deeply concerned, however 
 it might become me to follow examples of humility, 
 I shall refrain from a practice perhaps not less laud- 
 able than it is common. I cannot prevail upon my- 
 self to check the current of your sensibility by the 
 cold formalities of an apology for the defects of the 
 speaker. These can neither be concealed nor ex- 
 tenuated by the affectation of diffidence ; nor even 
 by the genuine concessions of conscious inability. 
 "lis your command, and the reverence we all bear 
 to the memory of him of whom I am to speak, that 
 must constitute my excuse, and my claim to your 
 indulgence. Did I even possess the powers of ora- 
 tory, I should with reluctance attempt to employ 
 them upon the present occasion. The native bril- 
 liancy of the diamond needs not the polish of art ; 
 the conspicuous features of pre-eminent merit, need 
 not the coloring pencil of imagination, nor the florid 
 decorations of rhetoric. 
 
 From you who knew and loved him, I fear not 
 the imputation of flattery, or enthusiasm, when I in- 
 dulge an expectation, that the name of Geeene will 
 at once awaken in your minds, the images of what- 
 ever is noble and estimable in htinian nature. The 
 fidelity of the portrait 1 shall draw, will therefore 
 have nothing to apprehend from your sentence. But 
 1 dare not hope that it will meet with equal justice 
 from all others; or that it will entirely escape the 
 cavils of ignorance and the shafts of envy. For 
 high as this great man stood in the estimation of his 
 country, the whole extent of his worth was little 
 known. The situations in which he has appeared, 
 though such as would have measured the faculties 
 and exhausted the resources of men who might 
 justly challenge the epithet of great, were yet in- 
 competent to the full display of those various, rare, 
 and exalted endowments, with which nature only 
 now and then decorates a favorite, as if with inten- 
 tion to astonish mankind. 
 
 As a man, the virtues of Greene are admitted ; as 
 a patriot, he holds a place in the foremost rank ; as 
 a statesman, he is praised ; as a soldier, he is ad- 
 mired. But in the two last characters, especially in 
 the last but one, his reputation falls far below his 
 desert. It required a longer life, and still greater 
 opportunities, to have enabled him to exhibit, in full 
 day, the vast, I had almost said the enormous, powers 
 of his mind. 
 
 The termination of the American war — not too 
 soon for his wishes, nor for the welfare of his coun- 
 try, but too soon for his glory — put an end to his 
 military career. The sudden termination of his life, 
 cut him off from those scenes, which the progress of 
 a new, immense, and unsettled empire, could not fail 
 to open to the complete exertion of that universal 
 and pervading genius which qualified him not less 
 for the senate than for the field. 
 
 In forming our estimate, nevertheless, of his cha- 
 racter, we are not left to supposition and conjecture. 
 We are not left to vague indications or uncertain 
 appearances, which partiality might varnish or pre- 
 judice discolor. We have a succession of deeds, as 
 glorious as they are unequivocal, to attest his great- 
 ness and perpetuate the honors of his name. 
 
 It is an observation, as just as it is common, that 
 in those great revolutions which occasionally con- 
 vulse society, human nature never fails to be brought 
 forward in its brightest as well as in its blackest 
 colors: and it has very properly been ranked not 
 among the least of the advantages which compensate 
 for the evils they produce, that they serve to briDg 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 427 
 
 to light, talents and virtues, -which might otherwise 
 have languishe d in obscurity, or only shot forth a 
 few scattered and wandering rays. 
 
 Nathaniel Greene descended from reputable pa- 
 rents; but not placed by birth in that elevated 
 rank which, under a monarchy, is the only sure road 
 to those employments that give activity and scope 
 to abilities, must, in all probability, have contented 
 himself with the humble lot of a private citizen, or, 
 at most, with the contracted sphere of an elective 
 office, in a colonial and dependent government, 
 scarcely conscious of the resources of his own mind, 
 had not the violated rights of his country called 
 him to act a part on a more splendid and more am- 
 ple theatre. 
 
 Happily for America, he hesitated not to obey the 
 call. The vigor of his genius, corresponding with 
 the importance of the p:-ize to be contended for, 
 overcame the natural moderation of his temper; aud 
 though not hurried on by enthusiasm, but animated 
 by an enlightened sense of the value of free govern- 
 ment, he cheerfully resolved to stake his fnrtune, his 
 hopes, his life, and his honor, upon an enterprise, of 
 the danger of which he knew the whole magnitude ; 
 in a cause, which was worthy of the toils and of the 
 blood of heroes. 
 
 The sword having been appealed to, at Lexington, 
 as the Arbiter of- the controversy between Great 
 Britain and America, Greene, shortly after, marched, 
 at the head of a regiment, to join the American 
 forces at Cambridge; determined to abide the awful 
 decision. 
 
 He was not long there before the discerning eye 
 of the American Fabius marked him out as the ob- 
 ject of his confidence. 
 
 His abilities entitled him to a pre-eminent share 
 in the councils of his Chief. He gained it, and he 
 preserved it, amidst all the checkered varieties of 
 military vicissitude, and in defiance of all the in- 
 trigues of jealous and aspiring rivals. 
 
 As long as the measures which conducted us safely 
 through the first most critical stages of the war 
 shall be remembered with approbation ; as long as 
 the enterprises of Trenton and Princeton shall bo re- 
 garded as the dawnings of that bright day which 
 afterwards broke forth wiih sneh resplendent lus- 
 tre ; as long as the almost magic operations of the 
 remainder of that memorable winter, distinguished 
 not more by these events than by the extraordinary 
 spectacle of a powerful army straitened within 
 narrow limits by the phantom of a military force, 
 and never permitted to transgress those limits with 
 impunity, in which skill supplied the place of means, 
 and disposition was the substitute for an army ; as 
 long, I say, as these operations shall continue to be the 
 objects of curiosity aud wonder, so long ought the 
 name of Greene to be reve.ed by a grateful country. 
 To attribute to him a port on of the praise which is 
 due, as well to the formation as to the execution of 
 the plans that effected the*e important ends, can be 
 no derogation from that wisdom and magnanimity 
 which knew how to select and embrace counsels 
 worthy of being pursued. 
 
 The laurels of a Henry were never tarnished by 
 the obligations he owed and acknowledged to a 
 Sully. 
 
 ****** 
 
 From the Heights of Monmouth I might lead you 
 to the Plains of Springfield, there to behold the 
 veteran Knyphaussen, at the head of a veteran army, 
 baffled and almost beaten by a general without an 
 army — aided, or rather embarrassed, by small fugi- 
 tive bodies of volunteer militia, the mimicry of 
 soldiership ! 
 
 But it would ill become me to detain you ia the 
 
 contemplation of objects diminutive in comparison 
 with those that are to succeed. 
 
 Hitherto, we have seen the illustrious Greene 
 acting in a subordinate capacity, the faint glimmer- 
 ings of his fame absorbed and lost in the superior 
 rays of a Washington. Happy was it for him to 
 have been called to a more explicit station. Had 
 this never been the case, the future historian, per- 
 plexed between the panegyric of friends and satire 
 of enemies, might have doubted in what colors to 
 draw his true character. Accident, alone, saved a 
 Greene from so equivocal a fate ; a reflection which 
 might damp the noble ardor of emulation, aud check 
 the toweri.ig flight of conscious merit. 
 
 The defeat of Camden, and the misfortune of 
 Gates, opened the career of victory and of glory to 
 Greene. Congress having resolved upon a successor 
 to the former, the choice was left to the Commander- 
 in-Chief, and fell upon the latter. In this destina- 
 tion, honorable in proportion as it was critical, he 
 acquiesced with the mingled emotions of a great 
 miud — impelled by a sense of duty — allured by the 
 hope of fame — apprised of the danger aud preeari- 
 ousness of the situation, yet confident of its own 
 strength, and animated by the magnitude of the ob- 
 ject for which it was to be exerted. 
 
 Henceforth we are to view him on a more exalted 
 eminence. He is no longer to figure in an ambigu- 
 ous or secondary light; he is to shine forth the arti- 
 ficer of his own glory — the leader of armies and the 
 deliverer of States! 
 
 BALLAD LITERATURE, &c. OF THE INDIAN, 
 FRENCH, AND REVOLUTIONARY 1VAJJS. 
 
 One of the early ballads written in the country 
 is that composed about 1724, on the encounter 
 between Captain Lovewell and Paugus, an Indian 
 chief. Lovewell was the son of Zuccheus Love- 
 well, an ensign in Cromwell's army, who emi- 
 grated to New Hampshire and settled at Dun- 
 stable, where he attained the wonderful age of 
 one hundred and twenty years. Captain Love- 
 well had, previously to the engagement in which 
 he lost his life, taken part in several encounters 
 with the Indians, and proved himself a man of 
 skill and bravery.* We give the ballad from the 
 appendix to the reprint of Church's Indian Wars, 
 by Samuel G. Drake, with the valuable notes 
 added by the editor. 
 
 LOVEWELL'S FIGIIT. 
 
 Of worthy Captain Lovewell, I purpose now to 
 
 sing, 
 How valiantly he served his country and his King; 
 He and his valiant soldiers, did range the woods 
 
 full wide, 
 And hardships they endured to quell the Indians' 
 
 pride. 
 
 Twas nigh unto Pigwacket.f on the eighth day of 
 May,t 
 
 They spied a rebel Indian soon after break of day; 
 
 He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land, 
 
 Which leads into a pond§ as we're made to under- 
 stand. 
 
 * Farmer and Moore's Hist. Co!], of New Hampshire, i. 25 ; 
 hi. 64. 
 
 + Situated on the upper part of the river Saco, then fifty miles 
 from any white settlement. — Farmland Moore's Coll. i. 27. It 
 is in the present town of Fryebum, Maine. 
 
 X They set ont from Dunstable about the 16th April, 1725. 
 Symmes' narrative, in Farmer and Moore's Coll. i. 27. 
 
 § Called Saco pond. Some call this Lovewell's pond, but 
 Lovewell's pond is in Wakefield, where ho some time befora 
 "captured a company of Indians, who wero ou their way to 
 attack some of the frontier towns. 
 
428 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Our men resolved to have him and travell'd two 
 
 miles round, 
 Until they met .the Indian, who boldly stood his 
 
 ground;. 
 Then spake up Captain Lovewell, " Take you good 
 
 heed," says he, 
 " This rogue is to decoy us, I very plainly see.* 
 
 "The Indians lie in ambush, in some place nigh at 
 
 hand, 
 In order to surround us upon this neck of land; 
 Therefore we'll march in order, and each man leave 
 
 his pack, -}- 
 That we may briskly fight them when they make 
 
 their attack." 
 
 They came unto this Indian, who ill 1 them thus defy, 
 As soon as they came nigh him, two guns he did 
 
 let fly,* 
 Which womidel Captain Lovewell, and likewise one 
 
 man more,§ 
 But when this rogue was running, they laid him in 
 
 his go; e. jj 
 
 Then having scalp'd the Indian, they went back to 
 
 the spot, 
 Where they had laid their packs down, but there 
 
 they found them not, 
 For the Indians having spy'd them, when they them 
 
 down did lay, 
 Did seize them for their plunder, and carry them 
 
 away. 
 
 These rebels lay in ambush, this very place hard by, 
 So that an English soldier did one of them espy, 
 And cried out "Here's an Indian," with that they 
 
 started out, 
 As fiercely as old lions, and hideously did shout. 
 
 With that our valiant English, all gave a loud huzza, 
 To show the rebel Indians they fear'd them not a 
 
 straw; 
 So now the fight began, and as fiercely as eould be, 
 The Indians ran up to them, but soon were forc'd to 
 
 flee.1T 
 
 Then spake up Captain Lovewell, when first the 
 
 fight began, 
 " Fight on, my valiant heroes ! you see they fall like 
 
 rain." 
 For as we are inform'd, the Indians were so thick, 
 A man could scarcely fire a gun and not some of 
 
 them hit. 
 
 Then did the rebels try their best our soldiers to 
 
 surround, 
 But (hey could not accomplish it, because there was 
 
 a pond, 
 To which our men retreated and covered all the 
 
 rear,** 
 
 * This Indian was out a hunting, and probably had no know- 
 ledge of the English, having two ducks in his band, and liis 
 guns loaded with beaver shot. — Symmesand Belknap. 
 
 t The Indians finding their packs, learned their number, and 
 placed themselves to surround them, when they returned. 
 
 Jit appears from Mr. Symines, that the English saw the In- 
 dian coming, and secreted themselves, firing at him first. He 
 then, having two guns, discharged both, and wounded the 
 Captain mortally. 
 
 § Samuel Whiting. 
 
 I Ensign Wyman shot him, and Mr. Frye, the chaplain, and 
 another, scalped him. — Symmcs. 
 
 1 Both pomes advanced with their guns presented, and when 
 they came within" a few yards," they fired on both sides. 
 "The Indians fell in considerable numbers, but the English, 
 most, if not all of them, escaped the first shot." — lb. Then ad- 
 vancing within twice the length of their guns, slew nine. — Pen- 
 hallow. 
 
 ** Twelve were killed and wounded before they retreated to 
 the pond. There was a small bank, which 6erved them as a 
 breastwork, and, perhaps, saved them from an immediate de- 
 
 The rogues were forc'd to flee them, altho' they 
 skulk'd for fear. 
 
 Two logs there were behind them, that close toge- 
 ther lay, 
 
 Without being discovered, they could not get away ; 
 
 Therefore our valiant English, they travell'd in a 
 row, 
 
 And at a handsome distance as they were wontto go. 
 
 'Twas ten o'clock in the morning, when first the fight 
 
 begun, 
 And fiercely did continue until the setting sun ; 
 Excepting that the Indiana, some hours before 'twas 
 
 night, 
 Drew off into the bushes and ceased awhile to fight* 
 
 But soon again returned, in fierce and furious mood, 
 Shouting as in the morning, but yet not half so loud ; 
 For as we are informed, so thick and fast the3' fell, 
 Scarce twenty of their number, at night did get 
 home well.f 
 
 And that our valiant English, till midnight there did 
 
 stay, 
 To see whether the rebels would have another fray; 
 But they no more returning, they made off towards 
 
 their home, 
 And brought away their wounded as far as they 
 
 could come4 
 
 Of all our valiant English, there were but thirty-four, 
 And of the rebel Indians, there were about four 
 
 score. 
 And sixteen of our English did safely home return, 
 The rest were killed and wounded, for which we all 
 
 must mourn. § 
 
 Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there 
 
 did die, 
 They killed Lt. Robins,] and wounded good young 
 
 Frye,! 
 Who "was our English chaplain ; he many Indians 
 
 slew, 
 And some of them he scalp'd -when bullets round 
 
 him flew. 
 
 Young Fullam** too I'll mention, because he fought 
 so well, 
 
 Endeavouring to save a man, a sacrifice he fell ; 
 
 But yet our valiant Englishmen in fight were ne'er 
 dismay'd, 
 
 But still they kept their motion, and Wyniau's'|-j' Cap- 
 tain made, 
 
 feat. This is the more probable, as but few were killed after- 
 wards. — lb. 
 
 * They probably drew off to take care of the wounded. 
 Symines nor Pen hallow makes mention that they returned 
 again to the fight, after they drew oil'. 
 
 t Forty were said to be killed upon the spot, and eighteen 
 more died of their wounds. — PenkuUow. 
 
 % Solomon Keyes, after receiving three wounds, crawled 
 along the shore of the pond, where lie chanced to find an old 
 canoe, into which be rolled himself, and the wind wafted him 
 on several miles toward the fort, which lie reached in safety, 
 lie felt Ins end approaching, when he was in the boat, into 
 which he had crawled, ou'y to die in peace, and to escape the 
 scu'pmg knife, but wonderfully revived. — Syrrnne*. 
 
 § Eight were left in the woods, whose wounds were so bad 
 that they could not travel, of whom two only returned. Ono 
 ran away in the beginning of the fight. 
 
 H Tic belonged to Chelmesford. Eeing mortally wounded, 
 desired to have two guns charged, aid left wiih him, which 
 they did. He snirl, " As the Indians will come in the morning 
 to scalp me. I will kill one more of them if I can." — 76. 
 
 °l lie fell about the middle of the afternoon. He was the only 
 son of Capt. James Frye of Andover, graduated at Harvard 
 college in 1728, and wns chaplain of the company. — lb. 
 
 *# Only son of Major Fullam of Weston, was sergeant of the 
 company, and fell in the beginning of the fight. — lb. 
 
 11" Ensign Seth Wyman of Wuburn. He was presented with 
 a silver hilted sword for bis good conduct, and commissioned 
 Captain. He died 6oon.after. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 429 
 
 Who shot the old chief Paugus,* which did the foe 
 
 defeat, 
 Then set his men in order, and brought off the 
 
 retreat ; 
 And braving many dangers and hardships in the 
 
 way, 
 They safe arriv'd at Dunstable, the thirteenth day 
 
 of May.f 
 
 The long-continued contest known as the old 
 French War, though waged at a comparative 
 distance from the settled portion of the country, 
 was one which could not fail to leave its trace in 
 the popular literature. The foe was one whose 
 ascendency, in the opinion of a great part of the 
 colonist*, foreboded destruction to soul as well as 
 body. The Roman Catholic priest represented 
 a system which they detested ; the Indian was 
 identified with infant recollections and the tales of 
 terror of the fireside. The colonists went heart 
 and hand with the mother country, and shared to 
 the full the John Bull prejudice and contempt of 
 a Frenchman. As expedition succeeded expedi- 
 tion, battle followed after battle, the companion- 
 ship in different scenes of danger and endurance 
 led to a union of feeling among the represent- 
 atives of different portions of the countiy, and 
 while it furnished a school of warfare, presented 
 one also of federative union. 
 
 History has been active in identifying the local- 
 ities of the war and in preserving the memory 
 of its heroes, but has bestowed slight care on a 
 department which has claims equal to these — the 
 preservation of the ballad and song which cheered 
 the long march of the soldier through the wil- 
 derness, and warmed the hearts of his kindred at 
 the fireside, ilany, probably, of the fugitive pro- 
 ductions of which we have spoken have perished, 
 and the lines of some which remain may to us 
 have little of the spirit-stirring element, but they 
 are worthy of regard for their past services. 
 
 One of the first in order of the productions to 
 which we have alluded is a little duodecimo pam- 
 phlet of thirty pages, entitled Tilden's Miscel- 
 laneous Poems on Dicers Occasions, chiefly to 
 animate and rouse the Soldiers. Printed 1756. 
 We know nothing of the author beyond the in- 
 formation he furnishes us in his 
 
 preface, oe introduction". 
 Ingenious and Courteous Reader: 
 
 It may justly seem a matter of great surprise that 
 a man near 70 years of age should attempt to be an 
 author: it may justly be deemed by you, or any 
 other gentleman, to be the product of superannua- 
 tion. Yet, Courteous Reader, I have some excuses 
 to make, for digging up rusty talents out of the 
 earth so long lain hid. In the first place, when I 
 was young I was bashful, and could not stand the 
 gust of a laugh ; but having observed the press for 
 60 years, which has stood open and free to every 
 idle scribbler, who have come off with impunity 
 instead of the punishment, I tho't they would have 
 
 * Many of T.ovewe'Vs men knew Paugus personally. A huge 
 bear's skin formed a part of bis dress. From Mr. Symmes' ac- 
 count, it appears that John Chamberlain killed h'im. They 
 had spoken together some time in the fight and afterwards both 
 happened togb to the poDd to wash out their trims, which were 
 rendered useless by so frequent firing. Here the challenge was 
 given by Paugus, " It is you or I." As soon as the guns were 
 prepared they fired, and Paugus fell. 
 
 T Wyman and three others did not arrive until the 15th, but 
 the main body, consisting of twelve, arrived the 18th. 
 
 had ; I nm-thereby emboldened to venture myself 
 among the rest. But, ingenious sirs, I think I have 
 greater and nobler views; for since brave soldiers 
 are the very life, nerves, and sinews of their country, 
 and cannot be too much honored, nor too well paid 
 — being a lover of martial discipline — I tho't at this 
 critical juncture it might be of some service to the 
 public, to attempt to animate, and stir up the mar- 
 tial spirits of our soldiery, which is the utmost I can 
 do under my present circumstances. The small 
 effort I made last spring was so well accepted by the 
 j gentlemen of the army, that I am thereby embold- 
 I ened to revise that, and some other pieces, and put 
 them into a small pamphlet. I have nothing further 
 to say, Gentlemen, but conclude with the two fol- 
 lowing stanzas : — 
 
 Kind Sirs, if that you will accept, 
 This pretty Pamphlet as a gift : 
 With nil the powers I have left, 
 
 I will consult your Honor, 
 But if you throw her quite away, 
 As I confess you justly may, 
 I've nothing further for to say ; 
 
 But spit and tread upon her. 
 
 But if that kindly you receive, 
 
 And grant the Muse a blest reprieve; 
 
 That little while she has to live, 
 
 'Twill give her life and motion, 
 And make her crazy pinions strong; 
 Thro' lofty theme she'll fly along, 
 And every stanza in her song, 
 
 Shall stand at your devotion. 
 
 The work opens as a patriotic work, designing 
 to fill, in due course, all the regular requirements 
 of such a production, with 
 
 THE BRITISH LION ROUSED. 
 
 Hail ! great Apollo guide my feeble pen, 
 To rouse the august lion from his den, 
 Exciting vengeance on the worst of men. 
 
 Rouse, British Lion, from thy soft repose, 
 And take revenge upon the worst of foes, 
 Who try to ring and haul you by the nose. 
 
 They always did thy quiet breast annoy, 
 Raising rebellion with the Rival Boy, 
 Seeking thy faith and iut'rest to destroy. 
 
 Treaties and oaths they always did break thro'; 
 They never did nor wou'd keep faith with you, 
 By popes and priests indulged so to do. 
 
 All neighbouring powers and neutral standers by 
 Look on our cause with an impartial eye, 
 And see their falseness and their perfidy. 
 
 Their grand encroachments on us ne'er did eeaee, 
 But by indulgence mightily increase, 
 Killing anil sculping us in times of peace 
 
 They buy our scalps, exciting savage clans, 
 In children's blood for to embue their hands, 
 Assisted by their cruel Gallic bands. 
 
 The British lion on his legs, with rampant tail, 
 we have next The English Soldiers Encouraged, 
 from which we take a, passage exhibiting the 
 grievances complained of: — 
 
 From Acadia to the Ohio river, 
 
 They seize your lands where Jove is not the giver ; 
 
 Laying a plan that they in time to come, 
 
 O'er all these lands may sing their To Deum; 
 
 And cloud your sun with Popish superstition, 
 
 And make you dread their bloody Inquisition. 
 
4:30 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In vain you'll sigh, and make your sad complaints 
 
 Unto these idiot- worshippers of saints. 
 
 Better to die if Heaven sees it fit, 
 
 In fields of blood, than ever to submit : 
 
 Go, heroes bold, you've a commission given 
 
 From George, our king, and the great King of 
 
 Heaven. 
 The blood of infants crieth from the ground, 
 With scalped mothers seatter'd up and down. 
 Revenge, revenge our blood and righteous cause 
 Upon these rogues who break all nature's laws. 
 In coverts they watch many days and nights, 
 To take a time to do their base exploits, 
 Scalp a few children, home again they run, 
 And swing their scalps and sing their Te Deum : 
 They've murther'd thus in all our north frontiers, 
 Fill'd mothers' hearts with sighs and groans and 
 
 tears, 
 And thus they've acted more than three-score years. 
 Had ever mortals such a cursed foe ? 
 Ask Jove or Mars, and they will tell you no. 
 
 Next follows Braddoclcs Fate, with, an Incite- 
 ment to Revenge, composed August 20, 1755. 
 We select a passage, headed 
 
 HIS EPITAPH. 
 
 Beneath this stone brave Braddock lies, 
 Who always hated cowardice, 
 But fell a savage sacrifice ; 
 
 Amidst his Indian foes. 
 I charge you, heroes, of the ground, 
 To guard his dark pavilion round, 
 And keep off all obtruding sound, 
 
 And cherish his repose. 
 
 Sleep, sleep, I say, brave valiant man, 
 Bold death, at last, has bid thee stand, 
 And to resign thy great demand, 
 
 And cancel thy commission : 
 Altho' thou didst not much incline, 
 Thy post and honors to resign ; 
 Now iron slumber doth confine; 
 
 None envy's thy condition. 
 
 A survey of the battle so rouses the author, 
 that he gives us some glimpses of his own indi- 
 viduality : — 
 
 Their skulking, scalping, murdering tricks 
 
 Have so enraged old sixty-six,* 
 
 With legs and arms like withered sticks, 
 
 And youthful vigor gone; 
 That if he lives another year, 
 Complete in armor he'll appear, 
 And laugh at death, and scoff at fear, 
 
 To right his country's wrong. 
 
 Let young and old, both high and low, 
 Arm well against this savage foe, 
 Who all around environ us 6o ; 
 
 The sons of black delusion. 
 New England's sons, you know their way, 
 And how to cross them in their play, 
 And drive these murdering dogs away, 
 
 Unto their last confusion. 
 
 One bold effort let us make, 
 And at one blow behead the snake ; 
 And then these savage powers will break, 
 
 Which long have us oppress'd. 
 And this, brave soldiers, will we do, 
 If Heaven and George shall say so too: 
 And if we drive the matter thro' 
 
 The land will be at rest. 
 
 * The Author. 
 
 Come, every soldier, charge your gun, 
 And let your task be killing one: 
 Take aim until the work is done: 
 
 Don't throw away your fire; 
 For he that fires without an aim, 
 May kill his friend, and be to blame, 
 And in the end come off with shame, 
 
 When forced to retire. 
 
 O mother land, we think we're sure 
 Sufficient is thy marine powers, 
 To dissipate all eastern showers: 
 
 And if our arms be blest, 
 Thy sons in North America 
 Will drive these hell-born dogs awny 
 As far beyond the realms of day, 
 
 As east is from the west. 
 
 Forbear, my muse, thy barbarous song, 
 Upon this theme thou'st dwelt too long, 
 It is too high and mueh too strong, 
 
 The learned won't allow : 
 Much honor should accrue to him, 
 Who ne'er was at their Academ, 
 Come, blot out every telcsem ;* 
 
 Get home unto thy plow. 
 
 A poem follows on The Christian Hero, or 
 New England's Triumph : written soon after the 
 success of our arms at Nova Scotia, and the Sig- 
 nal Victory at Lake George, after which we find 
 The Soldiers Reproved for Reflecting on one 
 another. The remaining pieces consist of verses 
 on The Vanity and Uncertainty of all Sublu- 
 nary Things ; An Epitaph upon Sir Isaac New- 
 ton; and^ln Essay on Progedies and Earthquakes. 
 
 We are indebted for one of the most stirring of 
 our specimens to The History of An Expedition 
 against Fort Du Quesne in 1755 under Hajor- 
 General Braddock, edited from the original manu- 
 scripts by Winthrop Sargent, M.A. ; published 
 during the present year by the Pennsylvania His- 
 torical Society. " This jingling provincial ballad," 
 says Mr. Sargent, " was composed in Chester coun- 
 ty, Pennsylvania, while the army was on its 
 march in the spring or early summer of 1755. 
 During the Revolution it was still a favorite song 
 there, the name of Lee being substituted for Brad- 
 dock. It has never, I believe, appeared in print 
 before. There is no doubt of its authenticity." 
 
 To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers! 
 Hark, how the drums do roll it along ! 
 To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer ; 
 We'll meet our proud foe before it is long. 
 Let not your courage fail you ; 
 Be valiant, stout, and bold ; 
 And it will soon avail you, 
 My loyal hearts of gold. 
 Huzzah, my valiant countrymen 1 — again I say huz- 
 
 zah! 
 Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah, huzzah, 
 
 March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the fore- 
 most; 
 The battle is begun as you may fairly see. 
 Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over; 
 We'll soon gain the field from our proud enemy. 
 A squadron now appears, my boys; 
 
 If that they do but stand I 
 Boys, never fear, be sure you mind 
 The word of command 1 
 
 * A name the author gives to this sort of metre — Author's note. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 431 
 
 Iluzzah, my valiant countrymen! again I say huz- 
 
 zah! 
 Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah.huzzahl 
 
 See how, see how, they break and fly before us ! 
 See how they are scattered all over the plain ! 
 Now, now — now, now, our country will adore us ! 
 In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return 
 again I 
 Then laurels shall our glory crown 
 
 For all our actions told : 
 The hills Bhall echo all around, 
 My loyal hearts of gold. 
 Iluzzah, my valiant countrymen ! — again I say huz- 
 
 zah! 
 Tis nobly done — the day's our own — liuzzah, huzzah ! 
 
 The Pennsylvania Gazette of September 30, 
 1756, contains the following spirited 
 
 ODE TO THE INHABITANTS OP PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 Still shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul 
 With wasteful rage resistless fall 
 
 On Britain's slumbering race? 
 Still shall she wave her bloody hand 
 And threatening banners o'er this land, 
 
 To Britain's fell disgrace ? 
 
 And not one generous chieftain rise 
 (Who dares the frown of war despise, 
 
 And treacherous fear disclaim) 
 His country's ruin to oppose, 
 To hurl destruction on her foes, 
 
 And blast their rising fame ? 
 
 In Britain's cause, with valour fired, 
 Braddock, unhappy chief! expired, 
 
 And claim'd a nation's tear; 
 Nor could Oswego's bulwarks stand 
 The fury of a savage band, 
 
 Though Schuyler's ai'm was there. 
 
 Still shall this motley, murderous crew 
 Their deep, destructive arts pursue, 
 
 And general horror spread? 
 No — see Britannia's genius rise I 
 Swift o'er the Atlantic foam she fliea 
 
 And lifts her laurell'd head! 
 
 Lo! streaming through the clear blue sky, 
 Great Loudon's awful banners fly, 
 
 In British pomp display'd! 
 Soon shall the gallant chief advance ; 
 Before him shrink the sons of France, 
 
 Coufouuded and dismay'd. 
 
 Then rise, illustrious Britons, rise ! 
 Great Freedom calls, pursue her voice, 
 
 And save your country's shame! 
 Let every hand for Britain arm'd, 
 And every breast with virtue warm'd, 
 
 Aspire at deathless fame! 
 
 But chief, let Pennsylvania wake, 
 And on her foes let terrors shake, 
 
 Their gloomy troops defy ; 
 For, lo ! her smoking farms and plain?, 
 Her captured youths, and murder'd swains, 
 
 For vengeance louder cry. 
 
 Why should we seek inglorious rest, 
 Or sink, with thoughtless ease opprcss'd, 
 
 While war insults so near? 
 While ruthless, fierce, athirst for blood, 
 Bellona's sons, a desperate brood I 
 
 In furious bands appear I 
 
 Rouse, rouse at once, and boldly chase 
 From their deep haunts, the savage race, 
 Till they confess you men. 
 
 Let other Armstrongs* grace the field: 
 Let other Blaves before them yield, 
 And tremble round Du Quesne. 
 
 And thou, our chief, and martial guide, 
 Of worth approved, of valour tried 
 
 In many a hard campaign, 
 Denny, warmed with British fire, 
 Our inexperienced troops inspire, 
 
 And conquest's laurels gaiu 1 
 
 The fine song, " How stands the glass around ?" 
 is said to have been composed by General Wolfe 
 the evening before the attack on Quebec. Wolfe 
 was a man of fine taste as well as literary ability, 
 and one of the many stories of the repetition of 
 Gray's Elegy by distinguished men on their death- 
 beds, or near the close of their lives, perpetuates 
 an incident of the same eventful evening. "As 
 he passed from ship to ship," of the fleet contain- 
 ing his troops, "he spoke to those in the boat 
 with him of the poet Gray, and the Elegy in a 
 Country Churchyard. ' I,' said he, ' would pre- 
 fer being the author of that poem to the glory of 
 beating the French to-morrow;' and while the 
 oars struck the river as it rippled in the silence 
 of the night air under the flowing tide, he re- 
 peated, 
 
 "The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave 
 
 Await alike th' inevitable hour, 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave."* 
 
 HOW STANDS TnE GLASS AROUND ? 
 
 How stands the glass around? 
 For shame ye take no care, my boys, 
 
 How stands the glass around? 
 
 Let mirth and wine abound, 
 
 The trumpets sound, 
 The colours they are flying, boys. 
 
 To fight, kill, or wound, 
 
 May we still be found 
 Content with our hard fate, my boys, 
 
 On the cold ground. 
 
 Why, soldiers, why, 
 Should we be melancholy, boys? 
 
 Why, soldiers, why ? 
 
 Whose business 'tis to die ! 
 
 What, sighing? fie! 
 Don't fear, drink on, be jolly, boys! 
 
 'Tis he, you or I ! 
 
 Cold, hot, wet, or dry, 
 We're always bound to follow, boys, 
 
 And scorn to fly ! 
 
 'Tis but in vain, — 
 I mean not to upbraid you, boys, — 
 
 'Tis but in vain, 
 
 For soldiers to complain : 
 
 Should next campaign 
 Send us to him who made us, boys, 
 
 We're free from pain ! 
 
 But if we remain, 
 A bottle and a kind landlady 
 
 Cure all again. 
 
 * The worthy and gallant Colonel Armstrong, who, at the 
 head of a number of the provincial troops, destroyed an Indian 
 town, and its inhabitants, within twenty-five miles of Fort Da 
 Quesne. 
 
 t Bancroft's History United States, iv. 832. 
 
432 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The death of Wolfe called forth many mournful 
 tributes to his virtues. We select a few lines 
 which appeared in the Pennsylvania Gazette, 
 No?. 8, 1759. 
 
 Thy merits, Wolfe, transcend all human praise, 
 
 The breathing marble or the muses' lays. 
 
 Art is but vain — the force of language weak. 
 
 To paint thy virtues, or thy actions speak. 
 
 Had I Duche's or Godfrey's magic skill, 
 
 Each line to raise, and animate at will — 
 
 To rouse each passion dormant in the soul, 
 
 Point out its object, or its rage control — 
 
 Then, Wolfe, some faint resemblance should we find 
 
 Of those great virtues that adoru'd thy mind. 
 
 Like Britain's genius shouldst thou then appear, 
 
 Hurling destruction on the Gallic rear — 
 
 While France, astonish'd, trembled at thy sight, 
 
 And placed her safety in ignoble flight. 
 
 Thy last great scene should melt each Briton's heart, 
 
 And rage and grief alternately impart. 
 
 With foes surrounded, midst the shades of death, 
 These were the words that closed the warrior's 
 
 breath — 
 " My eyesight fails ! — but does the foe retreat ? 
 If they retire, I'm happy in my fate!" 
 A generous chief, to whom the hero spoke, 
 Cried, " Sir, they fly ! — their ranks entirely broke : 
 AVhilst thy bold troops o'er slaughter'd heaps ad- 
 vance, 
 And deal due vengeance on the sons of France." 
 The pleasing truth recalls his parting soul, 
 And from his lips these dying accents stole: — 
 " I'm satisfied!" he said, then wing'd his way, 
 Guarded by angels to celestial day. 
 
 An awful band! — Britannia's mighty dead, 
 Receives to glory his immortal shade. 
 Marlborough and Talbot hail the warlike chief — 
 Halket and Howe, late objects of our grief, 
 With joyfnl song conduct their welcome guest 
 To the bright mansions of eternal rest — 
 For those prepared who merit just applause 
 By bravely dying in their country's cause. 
 
 JOHN MATLEM. 
 
 John Maylem was graduated .it Harvard in 
 1715. lie published, in 1758, The Conquest of 
 Louisbourg, a Poem, 8vo. pp. 1G, and in the 
 same year, Gallic Perfidy, a Poem, about the 
 same length. His name appears on the title- 
 pages of both these productions, with the war- 
 like affix, " Philo-hellnm." From the character 
 of some unpublished poems, copied in a MS. col- 
 lection mace by Du Simitiera the antiquary, pre- 
 served in the Philadelphia library, he appears to 
 have loved wine and Venus as well. Du Simiticre, 
 who appears to have had a special fondness for 
 the writer, has also copied a letter from John 
 Maylem to Mr. J — s — pho — n, in which he calls 
 himself a drunkard, and describes an attempt 
 which he made to hang himself, in which a 
 brief tension of the rope by his suspended neck 
 was followed by an abandonment of the project, 
 serious reflection, and, up to the date of the let- 
 ter, a thorough reformation. 
 
 Maylem's poetic ordnance is suggestive of the 
 weight of the metal rather than the fire and 
 momentum of the discharge. We will, however, 
 give a brief passage from one of the most intensi- 
 fied of his "sound and fury" strains: — 
 
 Meanwhile, alternate deaths promiscuous fly, 
 And the fierce meteors blazo along the sky ; 
 
 Then 6hiver in the air, and sudden pour 
 
 A cloud of atoms, in a sulphur shower ; 
 
 Or in their city wild convulsive burst 
 
 Tea thousand ways, and mingle with the dust, 
 
 A gaping chasm in their wall disclose, 
 
 The reeking soldier at his death repose. 
 
 While fate in showers of lead connected rains, 
 
 And wings famed heroes to her dark domains; 
 
 The cutting grape-shot spatter o'er the heath, 
 
 And the fierce langiel aid the glare of death. 
 
 In such sad scenes alternately involved, 
 
 Till one fair season half her course dissolved ; 
 
 Too much the odds — the Gallic ensigns 6truck, 
 
 By all their patron images forsook, 
 
 With drooping flag and solemn pace advance, 
 
 Their courage faints, nor more can stand the chance, 
 
 The last sad purpose of their souls impart, 
 
 And claim the mercy of a British heart. 
 
 The following decided expression of opinion is 
 taken from Du Simitiere's MS. copy: — 
 
 SATIRE ON HALIFAX, IX NOVA SCOTIA. 
 
 The dregs of Thames and Lilly's sable stream, 
 Danubian rubbish and the Rhine's my theme, 
 Of them I sing, the rebel vagrant rout, 
 Base emigrants that Europe speweth out, 
 Their country's bane, such traitrous scoundrel crews, 
 Torn from the gaols, the gallows, and the stews, 
 From Europe's plains to ISova Scotia's woods, 
 Transported over the great Atlantic floods ; 
 In shoals they come, and fugitive invade 
 The horrid gloom of Halifax's shade. 
 Oh, Halifax! the worst of God's creation, 
 Posscst of the worst scoundrels of each nation: 
 Whores, rogues, and thieves, the dregs and scum of 
 
 vice, 
 Bred up to villainy, theft, rags, and lice — 
 Proud upstarts here, tho' starved from whence they 
 
 come ; 
 Just such a scoundrel pack first peopled Rome ; 
 Send them to hell and then they'll be at home. 
 
 Another of the poets of the war was 
 
 GEORGE COOKINGS. 
 
 We know nothing of this writer in connexion 
 with America except that he wrote a portion of 
 his poem on War in Newfoundland, in the winter 
 of 1758 ; that the second edition of his perform- 
 ance was published at Portsmouth, "in Pisca- 
 taqua, or New Hampshire Colony, in America, 
 in 1701," the first having appeared in London in 
 1760, and the third " in Massachusetts Colony, in 
 1762." The fourth and last edition was published 
 in London without date, but must have appeared 
 in or before 1706, as we find it advertised in its 
 complete form on the title-page of a play, The 
 Conquest of Canada, by the same writer, and it 
 was not until its fourth issue that it attained its 
 full growth of ten books. He was also the au- 
 thor of Stentorian Eloquence and Medical Infal- 
 libility, a satire in verse on itinerant preachers 
 and advertising quacks, published in 1771, and of 
 Benerolence and. Gratitude, a Poem, in 1772. 
 
 The longest and most ambitious of these pro- 
 ductions is the Heroic Poem on War. The sub- 
 ject grew upon the author from an account of 
 the conquest of Louisburg to a chroniclo of the 
 entire war, including the achievements of the 
 English at the Havana and Manilla. Wolfe is of 
 course the chief hero of his chronicle. A few 
 lines from the argument of his poem will display- 
 its style : — 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 4:33 
 
 I sing how Wolfe, the faithless foe engag'd ; 
 (For where Wolfe led, the battle fiercely rag'd !) 
 The havoek of his war, the mould'ring walls! 
 Quebec's, Cape Breton's fate; the conquer'd Gauls! 
 His warlike deeds, no doubt, you'll all approve, 
 Whom foes admire! and conqu'ring Britons love. 
 By bloody toils, he gain'd on hostile ground, 
 That honour great; with which his mem'ry's 
 
 crown'd : 
 In Britain's cause (amidst the martial strife) 
 He fought, he conquer'd, and resign'd his life: 
 So Sampson flung proud Dngon's temple down, 
 Gain'd glorious death! and conquest! and renown! 
 
 * * * * * # 
 
 Where English, Scotch, and bold Hibernians storm, 
 (A formidable triple union form!) 
 The three-fold pow'rs their gallantry display, 
 Like powder, shot, and fire, impetuous force their 
 
 way! 
 
 The closing simile is a good specimen of the 
 strangely combined vigor and absurdity which 
 characterize this odd production. 
 
 Coekings's versification was amended by prac- 
 tice. His progress reminds us of those remarkable 
 specimen.; of improvement put forth by advertis- 
 ing writing-masters as proofs of the proficiency of 
 their pupils. As a specimen of his first attempt 
 we will give the salutation of Sophia to her lover, 
 Wolfe, when he comes to take leave of her befi ire 
 leaving for America, an interview to which the 
 general lias worked up himself and his audience 
 by a preliminary soliloquy : — 
 
 Sophia. — When I find, sir, you prefer the noise 
 and 
 Danger of the Battle, and Fatigues of 
 A foreign Campaign, to the quiet enjoyment 
 Of j'our Friends in Safety in your native 
 Country? 
 
 Second attempt — A passage from the descrip- 
 tion of Louisburg during the siege ; — 
 
 Disploded shells ami shot together throng; 
 
 Ami mortars from their brazen bases flung, 
 
 A prospect odd, of iron, brass, and lead: 
 
 Of stones, and mangled bodies of the dead. 
 
 Fathers to future sons shall this report ; 
 
 So fought brave Wolfe ; so look'd their island fort. 
 
 Third attempt — the opening of his satire — 
 
 When empiricks illit'rate rise, 
 And cram the press with bare-fae'd lies, 
 And with great effront'ry declare, 
 Their med'eines most effectual are, &c. 
 
 Fourth and last attempt, from Benevolence and 
 Gratitude, a very fair copy of verses, Master 
 Cockings, with an exuberance of flourish quite 
 remarkable as compared with the cramped hand 
 of No. 1 :— 
 
 Descend celestial muse ! my song inspire ; 
 With sentiments sublime, my' bosom fire, 
 To sing the gifts conferral on human race; 
 With gratitude the streams of bliss to trace. 
 
 Cookings, but little successful as an epic, is still 
 less so as a dramatic poet. His play is heavy and 
 absurd. His heroes seem to forget in their long 
 speeches that they have started with blank verse, 
 their language soon degenerates into the plainest 
 of plain prose. A passage from the thick of the 
 action before Quebec will show, however, that 
 the author lavishes his choicest similes with demo- 
 
 vol. i.— 28' 
 
 cratic impartiality on the humbler as well as more 
 exalted of the dramatis personse. 
 
 Front Trumpet. — My brave fellows 1 behave like 
 British seamen. 
 There's warm duty for ye! 
 
 A sailor answers. — ?\ever fear, sir! 
 We'll tow them ashore, if the grapples hold ; 
 Or we'll fry like sausages in the flames! 
 
 BENJAMIN YOUNG PRIME. 
 
 The Patriot Muse, or Poems on some of the 
 principal events of the late war: together with 
 a poem on the Peace: Vincit amor patrim : By 
 an American Gentleman, was published at Lon- 
 don in 1764, in an 8vo. pamphlet of 94 pages. 
 It is stated in a note in the copy belonging to the 
 Philadelphia Library, to be by Benjamin Young 
 Prime of New York. It contains poems on Gen. 
 Braddock's defeat ; on the surrender of Fort Wil- 
 liam Henry ; an elegy on Governor Belcher, the 
 g( ivernor of New Jersey, and the Rev. Aaron Burr, 
 President of Nassau Hall. A few lines will give 
 a sufficient idea of the last. 
 
 But whither am I led? why all this grief? 
 Though great our sorrow 'tisn't past relief; 
 Let sad Burrissa's sighs be all supprest, 
 And sooth'd the anguish of her troubled breast. 
 
 An Ode on Viscount George Augustus Howe, 
 slain in a skirmish near Carillon, July 6th, 1758, 
 follows an ode on the surrender of Louisburg. 
 It consists of thirty-four stanzas similar to the fol- 
 lowing: — 
 
 'Tis done, 'tis done, 
 
 The day is won, 
 At length the destin'd blow is giv'n ; 
 
 Though long our w r oes, 
 
 And 3trong our foes, 
 Our cause is still the cause of heav'n. 
 
 Another ode, " composed on the taking of Que- 
 bec," contains a tribute to Wolfe. 
 
 Ah Wolfe ! the mention of thy name 
 Damps in my breast th' heroic flame, 
 And gloomy scenes far other thoughts inspire; 
 Smit by thy truly noble deeds, 
 Brave man ! my conscious bosom bleeds, 
 To think such merit should so soon expire. 
 And shall the martial lay 
 Triumphantly display 
 Britannia's victories? 
 And not the fun'ral strain 
 In pensive moans complain, 
 When ah! perhaps her bravest hero dies? 
 
 Yes, thou shalt now my thoughts employ, 
 Awhile I'll bid adieu to joy, 
 And in soft mis'ry mourn ; 
 Awhile my cheerful tongue 
 Shall drop the gay unfinished song, 
 And sing the dirge funereal o'er thy urn. 
 
 Britain, dear shade, indignant grieves 
 To be victorious at thy cost ; 
 She mourns thy fall, and scarce believes 
 The conquest glorious, where her Wolfe is lost. 
 
 While she triumphant twines 
 For her surviving sons the laurel wreath 
 To martial merit due, 
 Struck by thy hapless fate, she joins 
 The cypress and the yew, 
 To mourn her loss and their's in thy lamented death. 
 But thou couldstnot repine, 
 Thou freely couldst resign 
 In Britain's cause thy breath ; 
 
t31 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Couldst a -1 the patriot hero's part, 
 And bear tlij T country on thy heart, 
 Ev'n while it languish'd in the pangs of deatli. 
 
 As once the Deeii certain death defy'd, 
 T' insure Rome conquest and devoted dy'd ; 
 As Curtius, noble youth ! intrepid brav'd 
 The gulf wide-yawning, and his country sav'd: 
 80 thou, brave Wolfe, durst, at the heav'nty call, 
 
 Rush into ruin's open jaws. 
 Thus like those heroes didst thou greatly fall, 
 Thyself devoted in thy country's cause. 
 
 Long as Quebec shall rear aloft her head, 
 Long as her rocks her stable walls sustain, 
 
 Long as Laurentius in his spacious bed, 
 Rolls his vast tide of waters to the main ; 
 So long, O Wolfe, thy memory shall bloom, 
 And deathless laurels flourish on thy tomb. 
 
 This is followed by two patriotic hymns, com- 
 posed for, and sung on days of national thanksgiv- 
 ing, " by desire of the preacher on his text." 
 
 The author also tries his hand on French verse, 
 and gives La Lamentation de Louis swr les vic- 
 toires des Anglois. A.D. mdccls. 
 
 Que dirai-je? 
 
 Que ferai-je? 
 Pauvre miserable roi ! 
 
 Ah! personne 
 
 La couronne 
 N'embarrasse autant que moL 
 
 Pensive, trembling, and embarrass'd 
 
 What expedients shall I try * 
 Sure no monarch e'er was harass'd 
 
 With such ill success as L 
 
 This is followed by Loyal Tears shed over 
 Royal Dust, an elegy on George II. Also, "on 
 
 the Liberty of the Press to Mr. F , printer, at 
 
 jsew 'York, a.d. mdcclxii." With other verses 
 on incidents of the war, and two Latin paraphrases 
 of the lament of David over Absalom, and the 
 fight with Goliath. 
 
 In 1791, Dr. Prime published Columbia's Glory, 
 or British Pride Humbled,; d Poem on the 
 American Revolution: some part of it being a 
 parody on an ode entitled Britain's Glory, or 
 Gallic Pride Humbled / con, posed on the capture 
 of Quebec, A.D. 1759, by Benjamin Young 
 Prime, M.D. In a brief preface, he speaks of 
 his former publication in London, in 1764, and 
 of the requests of his friends made to him to 
 compose a parody upon it in honor of the Ameri- 
 can revolution. The plan expanded to a compo- 
 sition of 1441 lines, occupied with a review of 
 the events of the war, a eulogy of the friends 
 and denunciation of the enemies of the - country. 
 It was ready for publication at the close of the 
 war, but, as the author informs us, in consequence 
 of a seven years' absence from the city, his affairs 
 had become- somewhat deranged, and as no 
 printer could be found to execute the work on 
 any but cash terms, he postponed publishing for 
 a few years. We extract a portion of a panegy- 
 ric upon Washington : — 
 
 Washington! thou dear, illustrious chief! 
 Thou ornament and blessing to mankind ! 
 The soldier's glory and thy country's pride ! 
 Columbia's skilful guide 
 Through the dire contest, and her sweet relief 
 In all the sorrows of her state forlorn ! 
 IIow has fhv character refin'd 
 
 Since first thy great career began ! 
 Together in one giorious group combin'd 
 All the bright virtues that adorn 
 The Christian, Patriot, Hero or the Man ! 
 
 * * # * * * 
 Nor to the narrow bounds 
 Of one short age alone, 
 
 Shall poorly be confin'd 
 The gen'rous things which thou hast done . 
 To benefit mankind : 
 For as thy fame resounds 
 To foreign, climes ; 
 So future times 
 The sweet rehearsal shall regale, 
 And from their fathers' lips, in a long line, 
 Shall children's children hear the pleasing tale 1 
 
 The first of the songs which mark the progress 
 from discontent to revolution, comes to us from 
 the Old Dominion : — 
 
 From the Virginia Gazette, May 2, 1766. 
 
 Sure never was picture drawn more to the life 
 Or affectionate husband more fond of his wife, 
 Than America copies and loves Britain's sons, 
 Who. conscious of Freedom, are bold as great guns. 
 " Hearts of Oak are we still, for we're sous of 
 those Men, 
 ■ Who always are ready, steady, boys, steady, 
 To fight for their freedom again and again." 
 
 Tho' we feast and grow fat on America's soil, 
 Yet we own ourselves subjects of Britain's fair isle; 
 And who's so absurd to deny us the name? " 
 Since true British blood flows in every vein. 
 " Hearts of Oak, etc." 
 
 Then cheer up, my lads, to your country be firm, 
 Like kings of the ocean, we'll weather each storm ; 
 Integrity calls out. fair liberty, see, 
 Waves her Flag o'er our heads and her words are 
 he free. 
 " Hearts of Oak, <fee." 
 
 To King George, as true subjects, we loyal bow 
 
 down, 
 But hope we may call Magna Charta our own. 
 Let the rest of the world slavish worship decree, 
 Great Britain has ordered her sons to be free. 
 " Hearts of Oak, efce." 
 
 Poor Esau his birth-right gave up for a bribe, 
 Americans scorn th' mean soul-selling tribe; 
 Beyond life our freedom we chuse to possess, 
 Which, thro' life we'll defend, and abjure a broad S. 
 " Hearts of Oak are we still, and we're sons of 
 those men, 
 Who fear not the ocean, brave roarings of 
 
 cannon, 
 To stop all oppression, again and again. 
 
 On our brow while we laurel-ci own'd Liberty wear. 
 What Englishmen ought we Americans dare ; 
 Though tempests and terrors around us we see, 
 Bribes nor fears can prevail o'er the hearts that are 
 free. 
 " Hearts of Oak are we still, for we're sons of 
 those men 
 Who always are ready, steadv, boys, steady, 
 To fight for their freedom again and again." 
 
 With Loyalty, Liberty let us entwine, 
 Our blood shall for both flow as free as our wine; 
 Let us set an example, what all men should be, 
 And a Toast give the World, " Here's to those dare 
 be free. 
 " Hearts of Oak, &c." 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 435 
 
 The next we present was published in the Penn- 
 sylvania Chronicle, July 4, 17S8. It was one of 
 the earliest lyrics of the Revolution, and, by an 
 advertisement in Hugh Gaine's Gazette, appears 
 to have been published with the music to which 
 it was set. It has been attributed both to Mrs. 
 Mercy Warren,* and to John Dickinson. 
 
 A BONG. 
 
 To Ow Tune of " Hearts of Oak," &a. 
 Come, join hand in hand, brave Americans all, 
 And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call ; 
 No tyrannous act shall suppress your just claim, 
 Or stain with dishonour America's name. 
 
 In freedom we're born, and in freedom we'll 
 live I 
 Our purses are ready — - 
 Steady, friends, steady ; — 
 Not as slaves, but as freemen our money we'll 
 give. 
 
 Our worthy forefathers (let's give them a cheer) 
 To climates unknown did courageously steer; 
 Through oceans to deserts for freedom thej' came, 
 And, dying, bequeathed us their freedom and fame. 
 In freedom we're born, (fee. 
 
 Their generous bosoms all dangers despised, 
 So highly, so wisely their birthrights they prized; 
 We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep, 
 Nor frustrate their toils on the laud and the deep. 
 In freedom we're born, (fee. 
 
 The tree their own hands had to Liberty rear'd, 
 They lived to behold growing strong and revered, 
 A\ ltli transport then cried, " Kow our wishes we 
 
 g;iin, 
 For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain." 
 
 In freedom we're born, &c. 
 
 How sweet are the labours that freemen endure, 
 That they shall e.ijoy all the profit, secure — 
 No more such sweet labours Americans know 
 If Britons shall reap what Americans sow. 
 In freedom we're born, (fee. 
 
 Swarms of placemen and pensioners! soon will 
 
 appear, 
 Like locusts deforming the charms of the year ; 
 Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend, 
 If we are to .drudge for what others shall spend. 
 
 In freedom we're born, &c. 
 
 Then join hand in hand, bruve Americans all, 
 By uniting, we stand, by dividing, we fall ; 
 In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed 
 For Heaven approves of each generous deed. 
 In freedom we're burn, (fee. 
 
 All ages shall speak with amaze and applause 
 Of the courage we'll show in support of our laws; 
 To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain, 
 For shame is to freemen more dreadful than pain. 
 In. freedom we're born, etc. 
 
 This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health, 
 Ai.d I his for Britannia's glory and wealth ; 
 That wealth and that glory immortal may be, 
 If she is but just, and if we are but free. 
 In freedom we're born, Ac. 
 
 A tory parody of this song appeared in the 
 Supplement Extraordinary to the Boston Gazette 
 of Monday, September 20, 1768 : — 
 
 Last Tuesday the following song made its ap- 
 pearance from a garret at C — st — e W — m : — 
 
 Come, shake your dull noddles, ye pumpkins, and 
 
 bawl, 
 And own that you're mad at fair Liberty's call. 
 No scandalous conduct can add to your shame, 
 Condemn'd to dishonor, inherit the fame I 
 
 In folly you're born, and in folly you'll live, 
 To madness still ready, 
 And stupidly steady, 
 Not as men but as monkies, the tokens you give. 
 
 Your grandsire, old Satan — now give him a cheer! — 
 Would act like yourselves, and as wildly would steer. 
 So great an example in prospect still keep; 
 Whilst you are alive, old Belzee may sleep. 
 
 In folly, <fcc. 
 Such villains, such rascals, all dangers despise, 
 And stick not at mobbing, when mischief's the prize: 
 They burst through all barriers, and piously keep, 
 Such chattels and goods the vile rascals can sweep. 
 
 In folly, Ac. 
 
 The tree which the wisdom of justice hath rear'd, 
 Should be stout for their use, and by no means be 
 
 spared, 
 When fuddled with rum, the mad sots to restrain ; 
 Sure Tyburn will sober the wretches again. 
 
 In lolly, tfec. 
 
 Your brats and your bunters by no means forget, 
 But feather your nests, for they're bare enough yet ; 
 From the insolent rich sure the poor knave may 
 
 steal, 
 Who ne'er in his life knew the scent of a meal. 
 
 In folly, (fee. 
 
 When in your own cellars you've quaffed a regale, 
 Then drive, tug and stink the next house to assail. 
 For short is your harvest, nor long shall you know 
 The pleasure of reaping what other men sow. 
 In folly, &a. 
 
 Then plunder, my lads, for when red coats appear, 
 You'll melt like the locusts when winter is near: 
 Gold vainly will glow ; silver vainly will shine ; 
 But faith you must skulk, you no more shall purloin. 
 In folly, (fee. 
 
 Then nod vour poor numbskulls, ye pumpkins, and 
 
 bawl ! 
 The De'il take such rascals, fools, whoresons and all. 
 Your cursed old trade of purloining must cease, 
 The curse and the dread of all order and peace. 
 
 In folly, (fee. 
 
 All ages shall speak with contempt and amaze, 
 Of the vilest Banditti that swarni'd in those days; 
 In defiance of halters, of whips, and of chains, 
 The rogues would run riot, damu'd fools for their 
 
 pains. 
 
 In folly, (fee. 
 
 Gulp down your last dram, for the gallows now 
 
 groans, 
 And order depress'd her lost empire bemoans ; 
 While we quite transported and happy shall be, 
 From snobs, knaves and villains, protected and free. 
 
 In folly, lie. 
 
 We soon after have the tables again turned, in 
 a new version of this popular song. It was pub- 
 lished in a handbill at Boston.* 
 
 * We are indebted for tills and the previous sons to a very 
 * .John W.Moore s Encyclopedia of Music. 881. : valuable collection of cuttintrs from American and English 
 
 t rhc ministry nave already begnn to give away in pensions ; newspapers, illustrating the history of'onr country from 1660 
 the money they lately took out of our pockets 'without our | to 1840, formed by the antiquary "William TJpcott." in the pus- 
 consent. : seRs j on f thK.New York Historical Society. 
 
436 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 THE PAEODT PAEODIZED, OB THE MASSACHUSETTS SONG OP 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 Come, swallow your bumpers, ye Tories, and roar, 
 That the sons of fair freedom are hamper'd once 
 
 more; 
 But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame, 
 Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame. 
 
 Chorus. 
 In freedom "we're born, and like sons of the brave, 
 
 Will never surrender, 
 
 But swear to defend her, 
 And scorn to survive if unable to save. 
 
 Our grandsires, blest heroes! we'll give them a tear, 
 
 Nor sully their honors by stooping to fear; 
 
 Thro' deaths and thro' dangers their trophies they 
 
 won, 
 We dare be their rivals, nor will be outdone. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let tyrants and minions presume to despise, 
 Encroach on our rights and make freedom their prize ; 
 The fruits of their rapine they never shall keep — 
 Tbo' vengeance may uod, yet how short is her sleep. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The tree which proud Haman for Mordecai rear'd, 
 Stands recorded, that virtue endanger'd is spar'd; 
 That rogues, whom no bonds and no laws can restrain, 
 Must be stript of their honors and humbled again. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Our wives and our babes still protected, shall kuow 
 Those who dare to be free shall for ever be so ; 
 Ou these arms and these hearts they may safely rely, 
 For in freedom we'll live, or like heroes we'll die. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Ye insolent tyrants, who wish to enthrall, 
 Ye minions! ye placemen ! pimps, pensioners, all ! 
 How short is your triumph, how feeble your trust! 
 Your honors' must wither and nod to the dust. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 When opprest and reproaeh'd, our king we implore, 
 Still firmly persuaded our rights he'll restore ; 
 When our hearts beat to arms to defend a just right, 
 Our monarch rules there, and forbids us to fight. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Not the glitter of arms, nor Hie dread of a fray, 
 Could make us submit to their chains for a day; 
 "Withheld by affection, on Britons we call, 
 Prevent the fierce coniliet which threatens your fall. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 All ages shall speak with amaze and applause, 
 Of the prudence we show in support of our cause. 
 Assur'd of our safety a Brunswick still reigns, 
 Whose free, loyal subjects are strangers to chains. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all, 
 To be free, is to live ; to be slaves is to fall ; 
 Has the land such a dnstard as scorns not a lord? 
 Who dreads not a fetter much more than a sword ? 
 
 Gliorus. 
 
 A song to the same tune was composed in ^en- 
 York, in honor of some of the lenders of opinion 
 in that day, a portion of whom afterwards figured 
 on the royalist side. It appeared in the New York 
 Journal, January 26, 1769. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band, 
 In the cause of our country who join heart and 
 
 hand ; 
 Fair Freedom invites — she cries out — "Agree ! 
 And be steadfast for those that are steadfast for me." 
 
 Hearts of oak are we all, 
 Hearts of oak we'll remain : 
 
 We always are ready — 
 
 Steady, boys, steady- — 
 To give them our voices again and again. 
 
 With the brave sons of Freedom, of every degree, 
 Unite all the good — and united are we : 
 But still be the lot of the villains disgrace — 
 Whose foul, rotten hearts give the lie to their face. 
 Hearts of oak, <fee. 
 
 See ! their unblushing chieftain ! perverter of laws 1 
 His teeth are the shark's, and a vulture's his claws — 
 As soon would I venture — howe'er he may talk, 
 My lambs with a wolf, or my fowls with a hawk. 
 Hearts of oak, &c. 
 
 First— the worth of good Cruger let's crown with 
 
 applause, 
 Who has joiu'd us again in fair Liberty's cause — 
 Sour Envy, herself, is afraid of his name, 
 And weeps that she finds not a blot in his fame. 
 Hearts of oak, &a. 
 
 To Jauncey, my souls, let your praises resound ! 
 With health and success 1 may his goodness be 
 
 crown'd : 
 May the cup of his joy never cease to run o'er — 
 For he gave to us all when he gave to the poor ! 
 Hearts of oak, <fec. 
 
 What Briton, undaunted, that pants to be free, 
 But warms at the mention of brave De Launcey ? 
 "Happy Freedom!" said Fame, "what a sou have 
 
 you here ! 
 WTiose head is approved, and whose heart is sincere." 
 Hearts of oak, &c. 
 
 Fo*r worth and for truth, and good nature renown'd, 
 Let the name and applauses of Walton go round : 
 His prudence attracts — but his free, honest soul 
 Gives a grace to the rest, and enlivens the whole. 
 Hearts of oak, &a. 
 
 Huzza ! for the patriots whose virtue is tried — 
 | Unbiass'd by faction, untainted by pride : 
 I Who Liberty's welfare undaunted pursue, 
 I With heads ever clear, and hearts ever true. 
 Hearts of oak, <fec. 
 
 The planting of the first liberty pole in the coun- 
 try in The Fields at New York, in that portion of the 
 present Park between the west end of the City Hall 
 and Broadway, by the Sons of Liberty, and the 
 struggle which ensned between that energetic band 
 and the government troops, during which the pole 
 was cut down, again set np, again felled, and 
 finally hooped and otherwise protected with iron, 
 seems to have excited the attention of some Tory 
 versifier, who perpetrated a burlesque cantata; a 
 copy of which is preserved in its original form of 
 four folio pages, printed in large type, in the col- 
 lection of broadsides made by Du Simitiere, now 
 in the possession of the Library Company of Phi- 
 ladelphia. A MS. note by that antiquary on the 
 copy, informs us that " this paper was found 
 under the front door of a great many houses in 
 New York on the morning of the fifth of March, 
 1770." 
 
 The Procession with the Standard of Faction: 
 a Cantata, opens with a few Lines of 
 
 P.ECTTATTVE. 
 
 Twas on the morn when Yirtue wept to see 
 Discord stalk forth in robes of liberty, 
 The sons of Faction met (a ghastly band !) 
 To fix their standard in our bleeding land: 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 437 
 
 Pleas'd with the plaything, roar'd the youthful train, 
 Wond'ring their parents had grown young again. 
 #**##'* 
 
 High o'er tlie rest bra' champion Sawney stood, 
 The brazen trumpet of the factious brood. 
 
 Sawney sings a song in Scutch. 
 
 He ended, while amid the gazing throng 
 The noble captain proudly stalk'd along. 
 
 " The noble captain " was Sands, who sings a 
 song to the air Yankee Doodle. A stanza or two 
 may be given : — ■ 
 
 Good neighbors, if you're not afraid, 
 Be not in trepidation, 
 Tho' our great loss before did raise 
 Prodigious consternation. 
 
 Yankee Doodle, dec. 
 
 Let ev'ry body laugh and sing, 
 And be a very gay soul ; 
 For we have got another post 
 As big as any May-pole. 
 
 Recitative. 
 In solemn pomp, amid the shouting throng, 
 The coursers drew the massy Pole along. 
 
 ****** 
 P r then sings, 
 
 Of all the men in our town, 
 
 The dark, the fair, the red, the brown, 
 
 That toil to pull the churchmen down, 
 
 There's none like S*** the L r. 
 
 Recitative. 
 Brave, honest George, of genuine British mould, 
 With face of plenty, and with heart of gold, 
 As 'mong the bellowing band he dauntless stood, 
 Soon as their standard rais'd in air he view'd, 
 His virtuous breast with patriot fervour glow'd, 
 While thus his words with manly freedom flow'd : 
 
 We give this song entire, for its minute descrip- 
 tion of the liberty-pole. 
 
 Air — " Derry-dvicn." 
 Come listen, good neighbours of every degree, 
 Whose hearts, like your purses, are open and free, 
 Let this pole a monument ever remain, 
 Of the folly and arts of the time-serving train. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Its bottom, so artfully fix'd under ground, 
 Resembles their scheming, so low and profound ; 
 The dark underminings, and base dirty ends, 
 On which the success of the faction depends. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 The vane, mark'd with freedom, may put us in mind, 
 As it varies, and flutters, and turns, with the wind, 
 ■That no faith can be plac'd in the words of our foes, 
 Who change as the wind of their interest blows. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 The iron elasp'd around it, so firm and so neat, 
 Resembles too closely their fraud and deceit, 
 If the outside's but guarded, they eare not a pin, 
 How rotten and hollow the heart is within. 
 
 Derry down, <fec. 
 Then away, ye pretenders to freedom, away, 
 Who strive to cajole us in hopes to betray; 
 Leave the pole for the stroke of the lightning to 
 
 sever, 
 And, huzzah for King George and our country for 
 ever! 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 This curious production has never, to our 
 knowledge, been reprinted or noticed. Our ex- 
 tracts are from Du Simitiere's copy, the only one 
 we have met with. 
 
 The burning of the armed schooner Gaspee in 
 the waters of Rhode Island, one of the earliest in- 
 stances of resistance to British authority, gave rise 
 to a ballad at the time which has a genuine flavor 
 of the popular feeling. The passage of history to 
 which it refers is thus related by Bancroft. The 
 time was June, 1772. 
 
 " Inhabitants of Providence, in Rhode Island, 
 had in the last March, complained to the Deputy 
 Governor of tho conduct of Lieutenant Duding- 
 ston, Commander of the Gaspee, who obstructed 
 their vessels and boats, without showing any evi- 
 dence of his authority. Hopkins, the Chief Jus- 
 tice, on being consulted, gave the opinion, ' that 
 any person who should come into the Colony and 
 exercise any authority by force of arms, without 
 showing his commission to the Governor, and if a 
 Custom House officer, without being sworn into 
 his office, was guilty of a trespass, if not piracy.' 
 The Governor, therefore, sent a sheriff on board 
 the Gaspee^ to ascertain by what orders the Lieu- 
 tenant acted; and Dudingston referred the sub- 
 ject to the Admiral. The Admiral answered 
 from Boston: ' The Lieutenant, Sir, has done his 
 duty. I shall give the King's officers directions, 
 that they send every man taken in molesting them 
 to me. As sure as the people of Newport attempt 
 to rescue any vessel, and any of them are taken, 
 I will hang them as pirates.' Dudingston se- 
 conded the insolence of hi) superior officer, in- 
 sulted the inhabitants, plundered the islands of 
 sheep and hogs, cut .down trees, fired at market 
 boats, detained vessels without a colorable pre- 
 text, and made illegal seizures of goods of which 
 the recovery cost more than they were worth. 
 
 "On the ninth of June, the Providence Packet 
 was returning to Providence, and proud of its 
 speed, went gayly on, heedles? of the Gaspee. 
 Dudingston gave chase. The tide being at flood, 
 the Packet ventured near shore; the Gaspee con- 
 fidently followed; and drawing more water ran 
 aground on Nauquit, a little below Pautuxet. 
 The following night a party of men in six or seven 
 boats, led by John Brown and Joseph Brown of 
 Providence, and Simeon Potter of Bristol, boarded 
 the stranded schooner, after a scuffle in which 
 Dudingston was wounded, took and landed its 
 crew, and then set it on fire."* 
 
 The author of the old ballad is unknown: 
 
 NEW SONG CALLED THE GASPEE.f 
 
 'Twas in the reign of George the Third, 
 The public peace was much disturb'd, 
 By ships of war that, came anil laid, 
 Within our ports to stop our trade. 
 
 In seventeen hundred and seventy-two, 
 In ISewport harbor lay a crew 
 That play'd the parts of pirates there, 
 The sons of Freedom could not bear. 
 
 Sometimes they'd weigh, and give them chase, 
 
 Such actions, sure were very base ! — 
 
 No honest coasters could pass by, 
 
 But what they would let some shot fly. 
 
 * Bancroft's United States, vi. 416. 41T. 
 f From Sketches of Newport and its Vicinity, published by 
 John H. Taylor, New York, 1642, pp, 150-2. 
 
438 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Which did provoke to high degree 
 Those true-born Sons of Liberty, — 
 So that they could no longer bear 
 Those sons of Belial staying there. 
 
 It was not long, ere it fell out 
 That William Duddirgston, so stout, 
 Commander of the Gaspee tender, 
 Which he has reason to remember — 
 
 Because, as people do assert, 
 
 He almost met his just desert ; 
 
 Here on the twelfth* day of last June, 
 
 Between the hours of twelve and one — 
 
 Did chase the sloop called the Hannah, 
 Of which one Lindsay was commander — ■ 
 They dogg'd her up Providence Sound, 
 And there the rascals got aground. 
 
 The news of it flew that very day, 
 That they on Naquit Poiit did lay ; — 
 That night, about half after ten, 
 Some Karragansett Indian-men, 
 
 Being sixty-four, if I remember, 
 Soon made this stout coxcomb surrender — 
 And what was best of all their tricks. 
 In him a ball too they did fix — 
 
 Then set the men upon the land 
 And burnt her up, we understand — 
 Which thi? g provok'd the king so high 
 He said those men should surely die 
 
 So if he can but find them out, 
 King George has offered very stout 
 One thousand pounds to find out one 
 That wounded William Duddirgston. 
 
 One thousand more, he says he'll spare 
 To those who say they Sheriffs were — 
 One thousand more there doth remain 
 For to find out the leader's name. 
 
 Likewise one hundred pound per man, 
 For any one of all the clan ; 
 But let him try his utmost skill, 
 I'm apt to think he never will 
 Find out one of these hearts of gold, 
 Though he should offer fifty fold. 
 
 We have next to present three out of several 
 scraps of verse on the exciting topic of tea. The 
 first is from the New Hampshire Gazette of July 
 22, 1774 ; the second from the Pennsylvania 
 Journal of September 14, in the same year; the 
 third is also from a newspaper of about the same 
 period : — 
 
 i. 
 
 Rouse ev'ry generous thoughtful mind, 
 The rising danger flee ; 
 If you would lasting freedom find, 
 Now then abandon tea. 
 
 Scorn to be bound with golden eh; 
 Though they allure the sight; 
 Bid them defiance if they claim 
 Our freedom and birth-right. 
 
 Shall we our freedom give away, 
 And all our comfort place 
 In drinking of outlandish tea, 
 Only to please our taste. 
 
 * Historians say the 9th of June. 
 
 Forbid it, Heaven, let us be wise, 
 And seek our country's good ; 
 Nor ever let a thought arise, 
 That tea should be our food. 
 
 Since we so great a plenty have, 
 Of all that's for our health; 
 Shall we that baleful Iieb receive, 
 Lmpoverishing our wealth. 
 
 When we survey the breathless corpse. 
 
 With putrid matter fill'd ; 
 
 For crawling worms a sweet resort. 
 
 By us reputed ill. 
 
 Noxious effluvia sending out 
 From its pernicious store, 
 Not only from the foaming mouth, 
 But every lifeless pore. 
 
 To view the same enroll'd in te.. 
 Besmear'd with such perfumes, 
 And then the herb sent o'er the i 
 To us it tainted comes. 
 
 Some of it tinctur'd with the filth 
 Of carcases embalm'd ; 
 Taste of this herb then if thou wilt, 
 Sure me it cannot charm. 
 
 Adieu, away, tea begone, 
 Salute our taste no more ; 
 Though thou art coveted by some, 
 Who're destiu'd to be poor. 
 
 VIRGINIA BANISHING TEA, 
 
 £y a Lady. 
 Begone, pernicious baneful tea, 
 
 With all Pandora's ills possess'd; 
 Hyson, no more beguiled by thee, 
 
 My noble sons shall be oppress'd. 
 To Britain fly, where gold enslaves 
 
 And venal men their birth-right sell; 
 Tell North and his brib'd clan of knaves 
 
 Theft 1 bloody acts were made in hell. 
 In Henry's reign those acts began, 
 
 Which sacred rules of justice broke;' 
 North now pursues the hellish plan, 
 
 To fix on us his slavish yoke. 
 But we oppose, and will be free, 
 
 This great good cause we will defend; 
 Nor bribe, nor Gage, nor North's decree, 
 
 Shall make us '" at his feet to bend." 
 From Anglia's ancient sons we came, 
 
 Those heroes who for freedom fought ; 
 In Freedom's cause we'll match their fame. 
 
 By their example greatly taught. 
 Our king we love, but North we hate, 
 
 Nor will to him submission own ; 
 If death's our doom, we'll brave our fate, 
 
 But pay allegiance to the throne. 
 
 A lady's adieu to her tea-table. 
 
 Farewell the tea-board, witli its gaudy equipage 
 Of cups ami saucers, cream-bucket, sugar-tongs, 
 The pretty tea-chest also, lately stor'd 
 With Hyson, Congou, and best double fine. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 439 
 
 Full many a joyous moment have I pat by ye, 
 
 Hearing the girls tattle, tiie old maids talk scandal, 
 
 And the spruce coxcomb laugh at — may be — nothing. 
 
 No more shall I dish out the once lov'd liquor, 
 
 Though now detectable, 
 
 Because I am taught (and I believe it true) 
 
 Its use will fasten slavish chains upon my country, 
 
 And Liuehty's the goddess I would chose 
 
 To reign triumphant in America. 
 
 The Association, &c., of the Colonies at the 
 Q-rand Congress held at Philadelphia, September 
 1, 1774, by " Bob Jingle, Esq., Poet-Laureat to the 
 
 Congress," printed in that year, is a parody in 
 verse of the Articles of Association, which 
 seems to have been a favorite species of wit with 
 the Tory bards, who found in the new proceed- 
 ings of legislation novel matter for their jocularity. 
 A clever squib, in verse, -A Dialogue between a 
 Southern Delegate and his Spouse, on his return 
 from the Grand Continental Congress, of the 
 same year, is in a similar vein, the humor con- 
 sisting in the indignant wife rating "tier simple- 
 minded husband for his rashness in intermeddling 
 with affairs of state. A single passage of the 
 altercation will suffice : — 
 
 Wife. Good Lord! how magnanimous ! 
 
 I fear, child, thou'rt drunk, 
 
 Lost thou think thyself, deary, a Cromwell, or Monek? 
 
 Dost thou think that wise nature meant thy shallow 
 
 pate, 
 To digest, the important affairs of a state? 
 Thou born! thou! the machine of an empire to 
 
 wield? 
 And thou wise in debate? Should'st feel bold in the 
 
 field 1 
 If thou'st wisdom to manage tobacco, and slave, 
 It's as much as God ever designed thee to have: 
 Because meii are males, are they all politicians? 
 Why then I presume they're divines and physicians, 
 And born all with talents every station to fill, 
 Noble proofs you've given ! no doubt of your skill : 
 Would! instead of .Delegates, they'd sent Delegates' 
 
 wives ; 
 Heavens! we couldn't have bungled it so for our 
 
 lives! 
 If you had even consulted the boys of a school, 
 Beiieve me, Love, you could not have played so the 
 
 fool : 
 Would it bluster, and frighten its own poor dear 
 
 wife, 
 As the Congress does England! quite out of her 
 
 Ufe? 
 
 Husband. This same Congress, my dear, much dis- 
 
 turbeth thy rest, 
 God and man ask no more than that men do their 
 
 best; 
 Tis their fate, not their crimes, if they've little pre- 
 tence, 
 To your most transcendent penetration and sense;' 
 Tis great pity, I grant, they hadn't ask'd the advice 
 Of a judge of affairs, so profound and so nice; 
 You're so patient, so cool, so monstrous eloquent, 
 Next Congress, my Empress shall be made President, 
 
 A mild remonstrance against a famous practice 
 appears in Rivingtou's Gazette at this date. We 
 give it with its introductory note, showing its 
 author at least did not set an extravagant value 
 on his contribution. 
 
 Mr. Rivinciton* — 
 
 I shall lake it very kind in you, sir, if you will be 
 so good to put the verses, wrapt up in this paper, 
 
 into your next Gazetteer, for fear of some terrible 
 mischief: I am concerned I can't afford to give you 
 any thing for't, but 1 hope you will do it for 
 nothing, for 
 
 A Poor Man. 
 New York, Dec. 19, 1774 
 
 ON HEARING THAT TIIE POOR MAN WAS TARRED ANT> FEATHERED. 
 
 Upon my word it's very hard 
 
 A man can't speak his mind. 
 But he must tarr'd and feather'd be, 
 
 And left to north-west wind. 
 
 God knows my heart, my neighbours dear, 
 
 I meant to serve you all ; 
 And little did I think or fear 
 
 My pride would have such fall. 
 
 Oh sad! the toil of many an hour, 
 
 One moment can destroy. 
 How great is inspectioual power, 
 
 How vain all human joy. 
 
 I meant to serve you all, 'tis true, 
 
 With heart, and strength, and might, 
 
 Yet selfish hop'd some praise was due 
 To what I did indite. 
 
 Alas ! 'twas all an idle dream, 
 
 These tyrants to oppose, 
 In vain Ave strive against the stream, 
 
 They have us by the nose. 
 
 Our noses they will grind full well, 
 
 On grindstone hard and ruff, 
 Until we wish them all at h — 11, 
 
 And cry, Enuff, enuff. 
 
 Ah, where's the man in your defence, 
 
 That boldly will arise, 
 With homely language, downright sense. 
 
 To open on your eyes. 
 
 Tar, feathers, haunt him day and night. 
 
 And check his bold career. 
 He's not afraid of human wight, 
 
 But loves his wife full dear. 
 
 Ah, should she view him dress'd in tar, 
 
 And feathers, ah so grim. 
 She'd rage and rave, and storm and swear, 
 
 And tear them limb from limb. 
 
 Inspectors all, beware, beware, 
 
 Come not unto our house. 
 She'll scratch your eyes, and tear your hair, 
 
 And crack you like a louse. 
 
 Twould be a shame, a woman poor 
 
 Your pow'r should dare oppose, 
 Kick yon, and cuff you out of door, 
 
 As God and nature's foes. 
 
 Itivington's New Yo-k Gazette, Thursday, 
 Dec. 22, 1774 
 
 Another, but more vigorous Tory strain, ap- 
 pears in the same journal a little later. As these 
 pieces show the spirit of the time, and the activity 
 of the foe enhances the glory of the conqueror, 
 we do not scruple to insert them. Each section 
 of the country seems to have furnished its 
 quota. 
 
 On Calvert's plains new faction reigns, 
 Great Britain — we defy, Sir ; 
 True liberty — lies gag'd in chains, 
 Tho' freedom is the cry, Sir • 
 The Congress, and their factious tools, 
 Most wantonly oppress us, 
 Hypocrisy triumphant rules, 
 And sorely does distress us. 
 
MO 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The British bands with glory crown'd, 
 No longer shall withstand us; 
 Our martial deeds loud fume shall sound, 
 Since mad Lee — now commands us : 
 Triumphant soon, a blow he'll strike, 
 That all the world shall awe, Sir, 
 And General Gage, Sir, Perseus-like, 
 Behind his wheels, — he'll draw, Sir. 
 
 "When Gallic hosts, ungrateful men, 
 Our race meant to exterminate, 
 Pray, did Committees save us then, 
 
 Or H k, or such vermin i 
 
 Then' faction spurn, think for yourselves, 
 Your parent state, believe me, 
 From real griefs, from factious elves, 
 Will speedily relieve ye. 
 Baltimore, Dec. 19. 
 Contributed by " Agricola" to Rivington's New 
 York Gazetteer, Thursday, Jan. 6, 1775. 
 
 We find in the Penns3 - lvania Journal of May 
 31, 1775, a song, which we have not met in any 
 other shape, and which well deserves the honor 
 of a reprint : — 
 
 A BONG. 
 
 To tlie tune of " The Echoing llorn? 
 Hark! 'tis Freedom that calls, come, patriots, awake! 
 
 To arms, my brave boys, and away: 
 Tis Honour, 'tis Virtue, 'tis Liberty calls, 
 
 And upbraids the too tedious delay. 
 What pleasure we find in pursuing our foes, 
 
 Thro' blood and thro' carnage we'll fly ; 
 Then follow, we'll soon overtake them, huzza! 
 
 The tyrants are seized on, they die. 
 
 Triumphant returning with Freedom secur'd, 
 
 Like men, we'll be joyful and gay — ■ 
 With our wives and our friends, we'll sport, love, 
 and drink, 
 
 And lose the fatigues of the day. 
 "Tis freedom alone gives a relish to mirth, 
 
 But oppression all happiness sours; 
 It will smooth life's dull passage, 'twill slope the de- 
 scent, 
 
 And strew the way over with flowers. 
 
 A few months later in the same year, we meet 
 the date, October, 1775, of the composition of one 
 of the finest and most popular productions of the 
 war, the " Why should vain mortals tremble ?" of 
 Nathaniel Niles : — ■ 
 
 TIEE AMERICAN ITEEO. 
 
 A Sapphic ode, written in the time of tlie. American Resolu- 
 tion, at Norwich) Conn., October, 1775. 
 
 Why should vain mortals tremble at the sight of 
 Death and destruction in the field of battle, 
 Where blood and carnage clothe the ground in 
 crimson, 
 
 Sounding with death-groans ? 
 
 Death will invade us by the means appointed, 
 And we must all bow to the king of terrors; 
 Nor am I anxious, if I am prepared. 
 What shape he comes in. 
 
 Infinite Goodness teaches us submission, 
 Bids us be (juiet under all his dealings; 
 Never repining, but forever praising 
 God, our Creator. 
 
 Well may we praise him: all his ways are perfect: 
 Though a resplendence, infinitely glowing, 
 Dazzles in glory on the sight of mortals, 
 Struck blind by lustre. 
 
 Good is Jehovah in bestowing sunshine, 
 Nor less his goodness in the storm and thunder, 
 Mercies and judgment both proceed from kindness, 
 Infinite kindness. 
 
 O, then, exult that God forever reigneth ; 
 Clouds which, around him. hinder our perception, 
 Bind us tlie stronger to exalt his name, and , 
 Shout louder praises. 
 
 Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Master 
 I will commit all that I have or wish for, 
 Sweetly as babes' sleep will I give my life up, 
 When call'd to yield it. 
 
 Now, Mars, I dare thee, clad in smoky pillars, 
 Bursting from bomb-shells, roaring from the cannon, 
 Rattling in grape-shot like a storm of hailstones, 
 Torturing ether. 
 
 Up the bleak heavens let the spreading flames rise, 
 Breaking, like JEtnn, through the smoky columns, 
 Lowering, like Egypt, o'er the falling city, 
 Wantonly burn'd down.'* 
 
 While all their hearts quick palpitate for havoc, 
 Let slip your blood-hounds, nani'd the British lions; 
 Dauntless as death stares, nimble as the whirl-wind. 
 
 Dreadful as demons! 
 
 f 
 
 Let oceans waft on all your floating castles, 
 Fraught with destruction, horrible to nature; 
 Then, with your sails fi'l'd by a storm of vengeance. 
 Bear down to battle. 
 
 From the dire caverns, made by ghostly miners, 
 Let the explosion, dreadful as volcanoes, 
 Heave the broad town, with all its wealth and peo- 
 ple. 
 
 Quick to destruction. 
 
 Still shall the banner of the King of neaven 
 Never advance where I am afraid to follow: 
 While that precedes me, with an open bosom, 
 War, I defy thee. 
 
 Fame and dear freedom lure me on to battle, 
 While a fell despot, grimmer than a death's-head, 
 Stings me with serpents, fiercer than Medusa's, 
 To the encounter. 
 
 Life, for my country and the cause of freedom, 
 Is but a trifle for a worm to part with ; 
 And, if preserved in so great a contest, 
 Life is redoubled. 
 
 Nathaniel Niles was a graduate of Pn'noeton 
 of 17C6 and Master of Arts of Harvard 1772 ; be 
 settled in Vermont, where he became District 
 Judge of the United States. He died in West 
 Fairlee, Vermont, in November, 1828, at the age 
 •of eighty-six. His grandfather, Samuel Niles, 
 the minister of Braintree, Ma-s., was an author 
 of note. He wrote Tristia Ecclesiarwm, an ac- 
 count of the New England churches in 1745, and 
 a tract in verse, God's Wonder Working Provi- 
 dence for New England in (he reduction of Loufs- 
 lurg, in 1747, also several theological publica- 
 tions, and a History of the Indian Wars published 
 in the Massachusetts Historical Collections, dying 
 in 1702 at the age of eighty-nlne.t 
 
 Niles, we learn further, preached occasionally 
 as a Presbyterian clergyman in Norwich, Conn., 
 during the Revolution, where he also established 
 a wire manufactory, previous to his removal to 
 
 * Charlestown, near BostoD. 
 
 t Mass. llist. Coil., Tmrd t erics, vi. 154-270. Updike's Nar. 
 CIj. 37. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 441 
 
 the Vermont District.* He was an acute preach- 
 er; two sermons delivered by him at Tor- 
 ringford, Oomi., The Perfection of God, the 
 Fountain of God, and published at Norwich, 
 " for a number of hearers," fully supporting 
 a reputation in this particular. There is an 
 improvement in one of them in an allusion to 
 Washington which is curious. He is illustrating 
 the providence of the Deity: "Observe the sun- 
 beams that shoot by stealth into a darkened room. 
 There you will see myriads of playing motes. 
 Can there be any importance in these? Indeed 
 there can, indeed there is: too much for any 
 except God to manage. One of these may over- 
 throw an empire, give the world a. shock, and 
 extend its influence into eternity. It may fall on 
 the lungs of some monarch, and occasion great 
 revolutions in his dominions. It may light on the 
 e\"e of a David, a Solomon, a Cyrus, an Alex- 
 ander, bring on an inflammation which may 
 spread to the other; produce a mortification, first 
 of those parts, and then of the whole body. 
 Should this be the ea-<e with the Commander-in- 
 Chief of the present American forces, what dread- 
 ful consequences might not follow. Our strength 
 might give way; our country be subdued; our 
 religious privileges be wrested from us; super- 
 stition and idolatry be introduced, and, by and by, 
 spread from us throughout this continent; and 
 then spread over the other quarters of the world, 
 in an heavier cloud than they now lie under." 
 He also published several other discourses, but he 
 will be mainly remembered by his American 
 Hero, a sapphie ode, sung vigorously in Norwich 
 in the olden time, and still revived, we under- 
 stand, on certain occasions in New Haven.* 
 
 The bombardment of Bristol occurred on the 
 7th of October, 1775, and the ballad on the sub- 
 ject wa; written not long after. We extract the 
 lines from Mrs. Williams's Biography of Barton. 
 Wallace was the commander of the English 
 squadron oft' Newport : — ■ 
 
 THE BOMBARDMENT OF BRISTOL. 
 
 The incident which occasioned the following bal- 
 lad is thus 'described by an eye-witness (whose name 
 is not given) in a letter to Mrs. Williams. 
 
 October 7, 1775, the day when Wallace fired 
 upon the town of Bristol, I was something over ten 
 years old, and all the circumstances relating to that 
 event are fresh in my memory. It was on a plea- 
 sant afternoon, with a gentle breeze from the south, 
 that the ships at Newport got under weigh, and stood 
 up towards Bristol (appearing to us a pretty sight). 
 The wind being light they did not arrive till sun- 
 set. Wallace, in the Rose, led the way, run up and 
 anchored within a cable's length of the wharf. I 
 think the other ships' names were the Gaspee and 
 Eskew. The next followed, and anchored one 
 cable's length to the south. The other one, in en- 
 deavouring to go further south, grounded on the 
 middle ground. Besides these, I think there was a 
 bomb brig and a schooner. The schooner run up 
 opposite the bridge, and anchored. I was on the 
 wharf, with hundreds of others, viewing the same, 
 and suspecting no evil. At eight o'clock the Com- 
 modore fired a gun. Even then the people felt no 
 alarm, but in a very short time they began to fire 
 
 * History of Norwich. Conn., from its first settlement, in 
 1660, to January, 1 45, by Miss F. M. Caulkins, p. 298. Doad's 
 Kevolntionary Memorials, p. 66. 
 
 all along the line, and continued to fire for an hour. 
 The bomb brig threw carcasses, machines made of 
 iron hoops, and filled with all manner of combusti- 
 bles, to set fire to the town. They threw them up 
 nearly perpendicular, with a tremendous tail to 
 them, and when they fell on the ground they blazed 
 up many yards high, several of which were put out. 
 * * * The cowardly, rascal, after firing for an 
 hour or so, being hailed by one of our citizens, 
 ceased firing, and a committee from the town went 
 on board, and his demand on them was a number of 
 sheep and cattle. I believe they collected a few ; 
 and the next day, being Sunday, he got under way, 
 and left us, with a name not yet forgotten. * * * 
 It is marvellous that there were not more people 
 killed, as the bridge was crowded with people all 
 the time of the firing, and the schooner lay within 
 pistol shot of the bridge, and kept up a constant 
 fire. The rest of the ships fired grape, round and 
 double head shot, which were plentifully found 
 after the firing. * * * The following verses 
 were made on the occasion : — 
 
 In seventeen hundred and seventy-five, 
 Our Bristol town was much surprised 
 By a pack of thievish villains, 
 That will not work to earn their livings. 
 
 October 't was the seventh day, 
 As I have heard the people say, 
 Wallace, his name be ever curst, 
 Came on our harbor just at dusk. 
 
 And there his ships did safely moor, 
 And quickly sent his barge on shore, 
 With orders that should not be broke, 
 Or they might expect a smoke. 
 
 Demanding that the magistrates 
 Should quickly come on board his ships, 
 And let him have some sheep and cattle, 
 Or they might expect a battle. 
 
 At eight o'clock, by signal given, 
 Onr peaceful atmosphere was riven 
 By British balls, both grape and roun 
 As plenty afterwards were found. 
 
 But oh ! to hear the doleful cries 
 Of people running for their lives ! 
 Women, with children in their arms, 
 Running away to the farms ! 
 
 With all their firing and their skill 
 They did not any person kill ; 
 Neither was any person hurt, 
 But the Reverend Parson Burt. 
 
 And he was not killed by a ball, 
 
 As judged by jurors one and all ; 
 
 But being in a sickly state, 
 
 He, frightened, fell, which proved his fate. 
 
 Another truth to you I'll tell, 
 That you may see they levelled well; 
 For aiming for to kill the people, 
 They fired their shot into a steeple. 
 
 They fired low, they fired high, 
 The women scream, the children cry; 
 And all their firing and their racket 
 Shot off the topmast of a packet. 
 
 In relation to the following, we find the 
 schooner True American, twelve guns, Captain 
 Daniel Hawthorne, spoken of as in service in 
 1777 in a list of Salem Privateers, in Joseph B. 
 Felt's Annals of Salem (Salem, 1849), vol. ii. 
 268. The ballad is given in McCarthy's Songs, vol. 
 ii. 250, from R. W. Griswold's manuscript col- 
 
442 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 lection of American Historical Ballads, and is 
 said to have been taken down "from the mouths 
 of the surviving shipmates of Hawthorne, who 
 were accustomed to meet at the office of the 
 Marine Insurance Company in Salem." 
 
 BOLD HAU'lHORNE ; OP. 'THE CBUT3E OF THE FATE AITEEICAN, 
 COMMANDED BY CAPT. DANIEL IIAWTI10ENE. 
 
 Written by the Surgeon of Vie Yeexel. 
 The twenty-second of August, 
 
 Before the close of day, 
 All hands on board of our privateer, 
 
 "We got her under weigh ; 
 We kept the Eastern shore along, 
 
 For forty leagues or more, 
 Then our departure took for sea, 
 
 From the isle of Mauhegnu shore. 
 
 Bold Hawthorne was commander, 
 
 A man of real worth, 
 Old England's cruel tyranny 
 
 Induced him to go forth ; 
 She, with relentless fury, 
 
 Was plundering all our coast, 
 And thought, because her strength was great, 
 
 Our glorious cause was lost. 
 
 Yet boast not, haughty Britons, 
 
 Of power and dignity, 
 By land thy conquering armies, 
 
 Thy matchless strength at sea; 
 Since taught by numerous instances 
 
 Americans can fight, 
 With valour can equip their stand, 
 
 Your armies put to flight. 
 
 Now farewell to fair America, 
 
 Farewell our friends and wives ■ 
 We trust in Heaven's peculiar care, 
 
 For to protect their lives ; 
 To prosper our intended cruise 
 
 Upon the raging main, 
 And to preserve our dearest friends 
 
 Till we return again. 
 
 The wind it being leading, 
 
 It bore us on our way, 
 As far unto the southward 
 
 As the Gulf of Florida; 
 Where we fell in with a British ship, 
 
 Bound homeward from the main ; 
 We gave her two bow-chasers, 
 
 And she return'd the same. 
 
 We hauled up our courses, 
 
 And so prepared for fight ; 
 The content held four glasses, 
 
 Until the dusk of night ; 
 Then having sprung our mainmast, 
 
 And had so large a sea. 
 We dsoppM astern and left our chase 
 
 Till the returning day. 
 
 Next morn we fish'd our mainmast, 
 
 The ship still being nigh, 
 All hands made for engaging 
 
 Our chance once move to try; 
 But wind and sea being boisterous 
 
 Our cannon would not bear, 
 We thought it quite imprudent 
 
 And so we left her there. 
 
 We cruised to the eastward, 
 
 Near the coast of Portugal, 
 In longitude of twenty -seven 
 
 We saw a lofty sail ; 
 We gave her chase, and soon perceived 
 
 She was a British snow 
 
 Standing for fair America, 
 
 With troops for General Howe. 
 
 Our captain did inspect her 
 
 With glasses, and he said, 
 "My boys, she means to fight us, 
 
 But be you not aft aid ; 
 All hands repair to quarters, 
 
 See evcrj- tiling is clear, 
 We'll give her a bioadside, my boys, 
 
 As soon as she comes near." 
 
 She was prepared with nettings, 
 
 And her men were well secured, 
 And bore directly for us, 
 
 And put us close on board ; 
 When the cannon roar'd like thunder, 
 
 And the muskets fired amain, 
 But soon we were alongside 
 
 And grappled to her chain. 
 
 And now the scene it alter'd. 
 
 The cannon ceased to roar, 
 We fought with swords and boarding-pikes 
 
 One glass or somethii g more, 
 Till British pride and glory 
 
 No longer dared to stay, 
 But cut the Yankee giapplings, 
 
 And quickly bore away. 
 
 Our case was not so desperate 
 
 As plainly might appear ; 
 Yet sudden death did enter 
 
 On board our privateer. 
 Mnhoney, Crew, and Clemmons, 
 
 The valiant and the brave, 
 Fell glorious in the contest, 
 
 And met a watery grave. 
 
 Ten other men were wounded 
 
 Among our warlike crew, 
 With them our noble captain,* 
 
 To whom all praise is due ; 
 To him and all our officers, 
 
 Let's give a hearty cheer ; 
 Success to fair America 
 
 And our good privateer! 
 
 Joseph Warren contributed by his voice and 
 pen, as well as his sword, to the progress of the 
 American cause. He delivered in 1772- and 1775 
 orations on the Boston Massacre, the second of 
 which was pronounced in defiance of the threats 
 of the soldiery of the garrison, who lined the 
 pulpit stairs. Warren, to avoid confusion, en- 
 tered by the window in the rear. The address 
 was an animated and vigorous performance. The 
 interest it excited out of Boston may be gathered 
 from the abusive account of its delivery in 
 Rivington's Gazette, March 1 ♦ •_ 1775, an amusing 
 specimen of the style of writing in that peri- 
 odical.! 
 
 On Monday, the 5th instant, the Old South Meet- 
 ing-house being crowded with mobility and fame, 
 the selectmen, with Adams, Church and Hancock, 
 Cooper and others, assembled in the pulpit, which 
 was covered with black, and we all sat gaping at 
 one another, above an hour, expecting! At last, a 
 single horse chair stopped at the apothecary's, oppo- 
 site the meeting, from which descended the orator 
 (Warren) of the day, and, entering the shop, was 
 followed by a servant with a bundle, in which were 
 the Ciceronian toga, etc 
 
 Having robed himself, he proceeded across the 
 
 * Hawthorne was wono/ed in tli ■ h*?ad by a mnsket ball. 
 + Quoted in Lorillg^s Hundred liuston Orators, p. 60. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 443 
 
 street to the meeting, and, being received into the 
 pulpit, he was announced by one of his fraternity 
 to be the person appointed to declaim on the occa- 
 sion. He then put himself into a Demosthenian 
 posture, with a white handkerchief in his right 
 hand, and his left in his breeches, — began and ended 
 without action. He was applauded by the mob, 
 but groaned at by people of understanding. One of 
 the pulpiteers (Adams) then got up and proposed 
 the nomination of another to speak next year on the 
 bloody massacre, — the first time that expression was 
 made to the audience, — when some officers cried, O 
 fie, fie ! The gallcrians, apprehending tire, bounded 
 out of the windows, and swarmed down the gutters 
 like rats, into the street. The 43 I regiment, return- 
 ing accidentally from exercise, with drums beating, 
 threw the whole body into the greatest consterna- 
 tion. There were neither pageantry, exhibitions, 
 processions, or bells tolling, as usual, but the night 
 was remarked for being the quietest these many 
 months past. 
 
 "Warren wrote for the newspapers in favor of 
 freedom, and turned his poetical abilities in the 
 same direction. His Free America, written pro- 
 bably not long before his lamented death, shows 
 that he possessed facility as a versifier. 
 
 FREE AMEEICA. 
 
 Tune — " British Grenadiers" 
 That Beat of science, Athens, 
 
 And earth's proud unstress, Rome ; 
 Where now are all their glories '! 
 
 We scarce can find a tomb. 
 Then guard your rights, Americans, 
 
 Nor stoop to lawless sway ; 
 Oppose, oppose, oppose, oppose, 
 
 For North America. 
 
 We led fair Freedom hither, ' 
 
 And lo, the desert smiled 1 
 A paradise of pleasure 
 
 Was opened in the wild! 
 Your harvest, bold Americans, 
 
 No power shall snatch away ! 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, 
 
 For free America. 
 
 Torn fi'om a world of tyrants, 
 
 Beneath this western sky, 
 We formed a new dominion, 
 
 A land of liberty : 
 The world shall own we're masters here ; 
 
 Then hasten on the day : 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, 
 
 For free America. 
 
 Proud Albion bow'd to Cesar, 
 
 And numerous lords before; 
 To Picts, to Danes, to Normans, 
 
 And many masters more: 
 But we can boast, Americans, 
 
 We've never fallen a prey; 
 Huzza, huzz,i, huzza, huzza, 
 
 For free America. 
 
 God bless this maiden climate, 
 
 And through its vast domain 
 May hosts of heroes cluster, 
 
 Who scorn to wear a chain : 
 And blast the venal sycophant 
 
 That dares our rights betray ; 
 Huzza, huzrza, huzza, huzza, 
 
 For free America. 
 
 Lift up your hands, ye heroes, 
 And swear with proud disdain, 
 
 The wretch that would ensnare you, 
 
 Shall lay his snares in vain : 
 Should Europe empty all her force, 
 
 We'll meet her in array, 
 And fight and shout, and shout and fight 
 
 For North America. 
 
 Come future day shall crown us, 
 
 The masters of the main. 
 Our fleets shall speak in thunder 
 
 To England, France, and bpain; 
 And the nations over the ocean spread 
 
 Shall tremble and obey 
 The sons, the sons, the sons, the sons 
 
 Of brave America. 
 
 A pamphlet collection of Poems upon Seve- 
 ral Occasions, printed in Boston, 17-99, opens 
 with a ballad of a simple earnest feeling, which, 
 in reviewing the early incidents of the war, gives 
 an account of the deatli of Warren, of value as 
 a probably contemporary testimony.* 
 
 A POEM, CONTAINING SOME REMARKS ON THE PRESENT 
 WAR, ETC. 
 
 Britons grown big with" pride 
 
 And wanton ease, 
 And tyranny beside, 
 
 They sought to please 
 Their craving appetite; 
 They strove with all their might, 
 They vow'd to rise and fight, 
 To make us bow. 
 
 The plan they laid was deep, 
 
 Even like hell ; 
 With sympathy I weep, 
 
 While here I tell 
 Of that base murderous brood, 
 Void of the fear of Go 1, 
 Who came to spill our blood 
 In our own land. 
 
 They bid their armies sail 
 
 Through billows' roar, 
 And take the first fair gale 
 
 For Boston's shore ; 
 They cross'd the Atlantic sea 
 A long and watery way, 
 Poor Boston fell a prey 
 To tyranny. 
 
 They felt proud tyrants' rage 
 
 And cruelty, 
 A monster of a Gage 
 
 There passing by, 
 With every trap and snare. 
 Whose oaths did taint the air; 
 The illustrious city fair 
 Was in distress. 
 
 No pen can fully write, 
 
 Nor tongue express, 
 Nor heart that can indite 
 
 The wickedness 
 Of tiiat army so base ; 
 Void of all fear and grace, 
 Infesting of that place 
 On every side. 
 
 * Poems npon Several Occasions, viz. : — 1. A Poom on the 
 Enemy's first coming to Boston: the Burning of Charlestown; 
 the fight at Bunker-Hill, &c. 2. The Widow's Lamentation. 
 8. Nebuchadnezzar's Dream. 4. Against Oppression. 5. An 
 
 Heroic Poem on the taking of General Burgoyne, &c. 
 
 Shall every sense of Virtue sleep, and every talent lie buried 
 in the Earth, when subjects of such importance call for them 
 to be improved ? 
 
 Boston : Printed for the Author. 1799. 
 
444 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The harbour was block'd up 
 
 No ship coulil sail ; 
 Our fishery was stopt, 
 
 A doleful tale ! 
 Of tyrants' cruelty ; 
 Their banners lifted high, 
 Made sons of freedom cry 
 Unto their God. 
 
 The Congress that we chose 
 
 Bid us unite, 
 And to withstand our foes, 
 
 For freedom fight ; 
 They bid us ready stand, 
 Fight for our fathers' land, 
 Though we a feeble band, 
 Lid us not fear. 
 
 With great reluctancy 
 
 We ready stood, 
 And with our spirits high, 
 
 Trusting in God ; 
 Our prayers did ascend, 
 That lie would be our friend, 
 That he would us defend 
 In troubles great. 
 
 But oh! when cruel Gage 
 
 Lid see that we 
 Would not bow to his rage 
 
 And tyranny ; 
 Did fortify most strong, 
 His guards were stretcli'd along 
 A base and brutish throng, 
 Of British troops. 
 
 Gage wns both base and mean, 
 
 He dare not fight ; 
 The men he sent were seen 
 
 Like owls in night. 
 
 It was in Lexington, 
 
 Where patriots' blood did run 
 
 Before the rising sun 
 
 In crimson gore. 
 
 Here sons of freedom fell 
 
 Rather than flee, 
 Unto those brutes of hell 
 
 They fell a prey ; 
 But they shall live again, 
 Their names shall rise and reign 
 Among the noble slain 
 In all our land. 
 
 But oh ! this cruel foe 
 
 Went on in haste, 
 To Concord they did go, 
 
 And there did waste 
 Some stores in their rage, 
 To gratify old Gage, 
 His name in every page 
 Shall be defam'd. 
 
 Their practice thus so base 
 
 And murder too, 
 Rous'd up the patriot race, 
 
 Who did pursue, 
 And put this foe to flight, 
 They could not bear the light, 
 Some rue'd the very night 
 They left their den. 
 
 And now this cruelty 
 
 Was spread abroad, 
 The sons of liberty 
 
 This act nbliorr'd ; 
 Their noble blood did boil, 
 Forgetting all the toil, 
 In troubles they could smile, 
 And went in haste. 
 
 Our army willingly 
 
 Did then engage 
 To stop the cruelty 
 
 Of tyrants' rage. 
 They did not fear our foe, 
 But ready were to go, 
 And let the tyrants know 
 Whose sons they were. 
 
 But when old Gage did see 
 
 All us withstand, 
 And strive for liberty 
 
 Through all our land, 
 He strove with all his might, 
 For rage was his delight, 
 With fire he did fight, 
 A monster he. 
 
 On Charlestown he display'd 
 
 His fire abroad ; 
 He it in ashes laid, 
 
 An act abhoir'd 
 By sons of liberty — 
 Who saw the flames on high 
 Piercing their native sky, 
 And now Lies waste. 
 
 To Bunker-hill they came 
 
 Most rapidly, 
 And many there were slain, 
 
 And there did die. 
 They call'd it bloody hill, 
 Although they gain'd their will 
 In triumph they were still, 
 'Cause of their slain. 
 
 Here sons of freedom fought 
 
 Right manfully ; 
 A wonder here was wrought, 
 
 Though some did die. 
 Here Waiiren bow'd to death 
 His last expiring breath, 
 In language mild he saith — 
 Fight on, brave boys. 
 
 Oh ! this did stain the pride 
 
 Of British troops ; 
 They saw they were deny'd 
 
 Of their vain hopes 
 Of marching thro' our land, 
 When twice a feeble band 
 Did fight, and boldly stand 
 In our defence. 
 
 Brave Washington did come 
 
 To our relief ; 
 He left his native home, 
 
 Filled with grief ; 
 He did not covet gain, 
 The cause he would maintain 
 And die among tlie slain 
 Rather than flee. 
 
 His bosom glow'd with love 
 
 For liberty ; 
 His passions much did move 
 
 To orphans' cry. 
 He let proud tyrants know, 
 How far their bounds should go, 
 And then his bombs did throw 
 Into their den. 
 
 This frighted them full sore 
 When bombs were sent, 
 
 When cannon loud did roar 
 They left each tent; 
 
 Oh! thus did the tyrants fly, 
 
 Went precipitately, 
 
 Their shipping being nigh, 
 They sailed off. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 445 
 
 And now Boston is free 
 
 From tyrants ba9e ; 
 The sons of liberty 
 
 Possess the place ; 
 They now in safety dwell, 
 Free from those brutes of hell, 
 Their raptured tongues do tell 
 Their joys great. 
 
 But they must try again 
 
 Us to undo; 
 Their fleets have cross'd the main 
 
 And do pursue. • 
 They've come in mighty haste 
 To lay our country waste, 
 The Southern States must taste 
 Of tyrants' rage. 
 
 Britons and Hessian troops, 
 
 A brutish throng, 
 To prosecute their hopes 
 
 They've sail'd along; 
 The Tories ask'd them o'er, 
 To come and try once more, 
 Some landed on the shore 
 Near Charleston bar. 
 
 Brave Charleston was prepar'd 
 
 For this brave foe ; 
 A fortress they had rear'd 
 
 To let them know 
 That freedom's cause was good, 
 They would resist for blood, 
 And" manfully withstood, 
 
 And drubb'd them welL 
 
 Oh ! here Parker was beat 
 
 Right manfully; 
 And with his scatter'd fleet 
 
 With wounded's cry: 
 His ammunition fail'd, 
 He took the first fair gale, 
 With scarce a must or sail 
 To join old Howe. 
 
 Howe's fleet cover'd the sea 
 
 Near New York shore 
 And very subtle he 
 
 To try once more ; 
 Here Tories join'd our foe, 
 As base as hell below, 
 Who did our shores know, 
 Help'd them to land. 
 
 But oh ! the bloody scene 
 
 I now will write ; 
 Long Island I do mean, 
 
 Where was the fight, 
 Where our brave men did die, 
 Fighting for liberty, 
 No succor could come nigh 
 For their relief 
 
 Here valiant men did bleed, 
 
 And fell a prey ; 
 Here tyrants did succeed 
 
 And win the day ; 
 It was by Tories' art, 
 Who took the tyrants' part 
 We yet do feel the smart 
 Of that base crew. 
 
 Brave Washington did say, 
 
 Ahis! good God, 
 Brave men I've lost to-day, 
 
 They're in their blood. 
 His grief he did express 
 To see them in distress, 
 His tears and hands witness 
 He lov'd his men. 
 
 And then he thought best 
 
 To leave that place, 
 Thau there to stand the test 
 
 With men so base. 
 He was wise and discreet, 
 He bid his men retreat, 
 Go farther from the fleet, 
 So left New York. 
 
 Du Simitiere's volume of poetical selections in 
 MS., to which we have frequently expressed our 
 obligations, furnishes us with some lively verses 
 for the outset of 1776, which are there entitled 
 
 Parody by John Tabor Kemp, Attorney-General of New 
 York, to welcome Cortland Skinner, Attorney- General of 
 
 New Jersey, on board of the Asm Man-of- War, at New York, 
 Feb., 177C. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, brother Tory, 
 
 To this merry floating place; 
 I came here a while before you ; 
 
 Coming here is no disgrace. 
 Freedom finds a safe retreat here, 
 
 On the bosom of the waves ; 
 You she now invites to meet her. 
 
 Welcome, then, thou Tory brave. 
 
 n. 
 
 As you serve, like us, the King, sir, 
 
 In a hammock you must lay ; 
 Better far 'tis so to swing, sir, 
 
 Thau to swing another way. 
 Tho' we've not dry land to walk on, 
 
 The quarter deck is smooth to tread : 
 Hear how fast, while we are talking, 
 
 Barrow* trips it over head. 
 
 Should vile Whigs come here to plunder, 
 
 Quick we send them whence they came ; 
 They'd soon hear the Asia thunder, 
 
 And the Phoenix in a flame. 
 Neptune's gallant sons befriend us, 
 
 While at anchor here we ride; 
 Britain's wooden walls defend us, 
 
 Britain's glory and her pride. 
 
 In 1776, appeared The Fall of British Tyranny : 
 or American Liberty Triumphant, — The First 
 Campaign ; a Tragi-Comedy of five acts, as lately 
 planned at the Royal Theatrum Pandemonium, 
 at St. James'. Phila. 8vo. pp.66. It is one of 
 several dramatic satires, like the Group of Mrs. 
 Warren, which appeared during the war. We 
 present a portion of 
 
 THE DEDICATION. 
 
 To Lord Boston, and the Remnant of the Actors, 
 Merry-Andrews, and Strolling Players in Boston, 
 Lord Kidnapper, and the rest of the Pirates and 
 Buccaneers, and the innumerable and never-ending 
 Clan of Macs and Donalds upon Donalds, in 
 America : 
 
 My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 Understanding you are vastly fond of plays and 
 farces, and frequently exhibit them for your own 
 amusement, and the laudable purpose of ridiculing 
 your masters (the Yankees, as you call 'em), it was 
 expected you would have been polite enough to 
 have favoured the world, or America at least (at 
 
 * The deputy paymaster jrener.il of the King's army, that 
 has also fled on board of the Asia, and continually walks tho 
 quarter. deck. 
 
416 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ■whose expence you act them) with some of your 
 play-bills, or with a sample of your conipositioo. 
 
 * * * * *- * *- 
 
 This is signed "Dick Pufle," and is followed by 
 a prose preface, and this by 
 
 THE GODDESS OP LIBERTY. 
 
 Hail ! patriots, hail ! by me inspired be! 
 
 Speak boldly, think and act for Liberty, 
 
 United sons, America's choice band, 
 
 Ye patriots firm, ye sav'ours of the land. 
 
 Hail!' patriots, hail ! rise with the rising sun, 
 
 Nor quit your labour, till the work be done. 
 
 Ye early risers in your country's cause, 
 
 Shine forth at noon, for Liberty and Laws, 
 
 Build a stro g tow'r, whose fabric may endure 
 
 Firm as a rock from tyranny secure. 
 
 Yet would you build my fabric to endure, 
 
 Be your hearts warm — but let your hands be pure, 
 
 Never to shine yourselves, your country sell; 
 
 But think you nobly, while in place act well. 
 
 Let no self-ser\ter general trust betray, 
 
 No pique, no party, bar the public way. 
 
 Front an arm'd world, with union on your side : 
 
 No foe shall shake you, — if no friends divide. 
 
 At night repose, and sweetly take your rest; 
 
 None sleeps so sound as those by conscience blest : 
 
 May martyr'd patriots whisper in your ear, 
 
 To tread the paths of virtue without fear ; 
 
 May pleasing visions charm your patriot eyes, 
 
 While Freedom's sons shall hail you b'.est and wise. 
 
 Hail! my hist hope, she cries, inspir'd by me, 
 
 Wish, write, talk, fight, and die — for Liberty ! 
 
 The characters of the play consist of the 
 leading statesmen of England, who are intro- 
 duced under descriptive names, Bute being Lord 
 Paramount, Mansfield Lord Mocklaw, &c. ; Gage 
 figures us Lord Boston, and Washington, Lee, 
 and Putnam appear in propria persona. The 
 : scene is laid in England, and at Lexington and 
 Bunker's Hill. The dialogue is in pro.e and 
 somewhat stiff. The following song is sung by 
 one of two shepherds, near Lexington, who have 
 a discussion of public affairs " after the defeat 
 and flight of the Regulars." Roger says, " This is 
 the First of May ; our shepherds and nymphs are 
 celebrating our glorious St. Tammany's day; 
 we'll hear the song out, and then join in the 
 frolic, and chorus it o'er and o'er again. This 
 day shall be devoted to joy and festivity." 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune. — " The Hounds arc all out." 
 
 Of St. George, or St. Bute, let the poet laureat sing, 
 
 Of Pharaoh or Pluto of old, 
 
 AVhile he rhimes forth their praise, in false flattering 
 
 lays, 
 I'll sing of St. Tamm'ny the bold, my brave boys. 
 
 Let Hibernia's sons boast, make Patrick their toast, 
 And Scots Andrew's fame spread abroad ; 
 Potatoes and oats, and Welch leeks for Welch goats, 
 Was never St. Tammany's food, my brave boys. 
 
 In freedom's bright cause, Tamm'ny pled with ap- 
 plause, 
 And reason'd most justly from nature ; 
 For this was his song, all, all the day long; 
 Liberty's the right of each creature, brave boys. 
 
 Whilst under an oak his great parliament sat, 
 His throne was the crotch of the tree ; 
 With Solomon's look, without statutes or book, 
 He wisely sent forth his decree, my brave boys. 
 
 v. 
 
 His subjects stood round, not the least noise or sound, 
 Whilst freedom blaz'd full in each face ; 
 So plain were the laws, and each pleaded his cause, 
 That might Bute, North, and Mansfield disgrace, mj 
 brave boys. 
 
 VI. 
 
 No duties, nor stamps, their blest liberty cramps, 
 A king, though no tyrant was he ; 
 He did ofttimes declare, nay sometimes would swear 
 The least of his subjects were free, my brave boys. 
 
 VII. 
 
 He, as king of the woods, of the rivers and floods, 
 Had a right all beasts to control ; 
 Yet, content with a few, to give nature her due; 
 So geu'rous was Tammany's soul, my brave boys. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In the morn he arose, and a hunting he goes, 
 Bold Nimrod his second was he. 
 For his breakfast he'd take a large venison steak, 
 And despis'd your slip-slops and tea, my brave boys 
 
 IX 
 
 While all in a row, with squaw, dog and bow, 
 Vermillion adorning his face, 
 With feathery head he ra: g'd the woods wide: 
 St. George sure had never such grace, my brave 
 boys. 
 
 x. 
 
 His jetty black hair, such as Buckskin saints wear, 
 Perfumed with bear's grease well smear'd, 
 Which illum'd the saint's face, and ran down apace, 
 Like the oil from Aaron's old beard, my brave boys. 
 
 XL 
 
 The strong nervous deer, with amazing career, 
 In swiftness he'd fairly run down ; 
 And, like Sampson, wou'd tear wolf, lion or bear, 
 Ne'er was such a saint as our own, my brave boys. 
 
 XII. 
 
 When he'd run down a stag, he behind him would 
 
 lag, 
 For, so noble a soul had he; 
 He'd stop, tlio' he lost it. tradition reports it, 
 To give him fresh chance to get free, my brave 
 
 boys. 
 
 xm. 
 
 With a mighty strong arm, and a masculine bow, 
 His arrow he drew to the head, 
 And as sure as he shot, it was ever his lot, 
 His prey it fell instantly dead, my brave boys. 
 
 xrv." 
 
 His table he spread where the venison bled, 
 
 Be thankful, he used to say ; 
 
 He'd laugh and he'd sing, tho' a saint and a king, 
 
 And sumptuously dine on his prey, my brave boys. 
 
 Then over the hills, o'er the mountains and rills, 
 
 He'd caper, such was his delight ; 
 
 And ne'er in his days, Indian history says, 
 
 Did lack a good supper at night, my brave boys. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 On an old stump he sat, without cap or hat, 
 When supper was ready to eat, 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 U7 
 
 Snap, his do;*, he stood by, and cast a sheep's eye ; 
 For veii'son, the king of all meat, my brave boys. 
 
 xvn. 
 Like Isaac of old, and both cast in one mould, 
 Tho' a wigwam was Tamm'ny's cottage, 
 lie lov'd sav'ry meat, such that patriarch eat, 
 Of ven'son and squirrel made pottage, brave boys. 
 
 As old nge came on, he grew blind, deaf and dumb, 
 
 Tho' his sport, 'twere hard to keep from it, 
 
 Quite tired of life, bid adieu to his wife, 
 
 And blaz'd like the tail of a comet, brave boys. 
 
 xx. 
 
 What country on earth, thea, did ever give birth, 
 
 To such a magnanimous sai-it 'i 
 
 His acts far excel all that history tell, 
 
 And language too feeble to paint, my brave boys. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Now, to finish my song, a full flowing bowl 
 
 I'll quaff, and sing all t!ie long day, 
 
 And with punch and wine paint my cheeks for my 
 
 saint, 
 And hail ev'ry first of sweet May, my brave boys. 
 
 Wo have next to present a poem, which, 
 though dated from a distant city, has the true 
 home spirit of the time. 
 
 To ilce tune of li Smile Britannia." 
 Rise, rise, bright genius rise, 
 
 Conduct thy sons to war ; 
 Thy spear pois'd to the skies, 
 
 Whirl, whirl thy rapid car ; 
 Fire each firm breast with noble zeal, 
 To conquer for the common weal. 
 
 For years the iron rod 
 
 Has hover'd o'er our heads, 
 Submit to George's nod, 
 
 Whose power all Europe dreads; 
 The slavish minion cries. 
 But Freedom's sons all fears despise. 
 
 All means for peace we've tried, 
 But found those measures vain ; 
 
 North's ministerial pride 
 
 Thought fear made us complain. 
 
 But in the end, convinc'd he'll see, 
 
 We dread not death, but slavery. 
 
 Tho' fatal lust of pow'r 
 
 Has steel'd the tyrant's soul ; 
 Though in an ill-tim'd hour 
 
 He bids his thunders roll, 
 Great Liberty, inspired by thee, 
 We fly to death or victory. 
 
 Great Nature's law inspires, 
 
 And free-born souls unite, 
 While common interest fires 
 
 Us to defend our right 
 Against corruption's boundless claim, 
 And firmly fix great Freedom's reigu 
 
 They foreign troops employ, 
 
 For merce lary hire ; 
 Their weakness we enjoy, 
 
 Each pulse new ardors fire, 
 Convine'd the wretch who fights for pay. 
 Will never bear the palm away. 
 
 They boast their power by sea, 
 
 The ruin of our trade ; 
 Our navy soon they'll see, 
 
 Wide o'er the ocean spread ; 
 
 Britain not long shall boast her reign 
 O'er the wide empire of the main. 
 
 Throughout the universe 
 
 Our commerce we'll extend, 
 Each power on the reverse 
 
 Shall seek to be our friend, 
 Whilstour sons crown'd with wealth immense, 
 Sing Washington and Common Sense. 
 Bordeaux, July 1, 1776. 
 Freeman's Journal, or New Hampshire Gazette, 
 Oct. 2'J 177S. 
 
 The poets seem to have felt the spur of the 
 passage of the Declaration of Independence, and 
 the newspaper corners of the time abound with 
 patriotic lines. We select two, which we havo 
 not found in any reprinted form. 
 
 ON independence. 
 
 Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free, 
 It's for Independence we all now agree, 
 
 Let us gird on our swords, and prepare to defend 
 Our liberty, property, ourselves and our friends. 
 
 In a cause that's so righteous, come let us agree, 
 And from hostile invaders set America free ; 
 
 The cause is so glorious we need not to fear 
 
 But from merciless tyrants we'll set ourselves clear. 
 
 Heaven's blessing attending us, no tyrant shall say 
 That Americans e'er to such monsters gave way ; 
 
 But, fighting, we'll die in America's cause, 
 Before we'll submit to tyrannical laws. 
 
 George the Third, of Great Britain, no more shall 
 he reign, 
 
 With unlimited sway o'er these free states again ; 
 Lord North, tun- old Bute, nor none of their clan, 
 
 Shall ever be honor'd by an American. 
 
 May heaven's blessing descend on our United States, 
 And grant that the union may never abate ; 
 
 May love, peace and harmony ever be found 
 For to go hand in hand America round. 
 
 Upon our grand Congress, may heaven bestow 
 Both wisdom and skill our good to pursue ; 
 
 On heaven alone depeude it we'll be, 
 
 But from all earthly tyrants we mean to be free. 
 
 Unto our brave generals may heaven give skill, 
 Our armies to guide and the sword for to wield; 
 
 May their hands taught to war and their fingers it 
 fight, 
 Be able to put British armies to flight. 
 
 And now, brave Americans, since it is so, 
 
 That we are independent we'll have them to 
 know, 
 That united we are, and united we'll be, 
 
 And from all British tyrants we'll try to keep 
 free. 
 
 May heaven -smile on us in all our endeavours,' 
 Safe guard our sea-ports, our towns and our 
 rivers ; 
 Keep us from invaders, by land and by sea, 
 And from all who'd deprive us of our liberty. 
 Freeman's Journal, or New Hampshire Gazette, 
 August 17, 1776. 
 
 A continuation of Hudibras, in Two Cantos, 
 written in the time of the Unhappy Contest be- 
 tween Great Britain and America, in 1777 and 
 1778, published in London in the latter year, con- 
 tains a parody, with comments, on the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, and may with propriety bo 
 inserted here. We are without clue, to the 
 name or place of nativity of the author, but 
 it is probably an American production. 
 
.443 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE 
 
 When in the course of human tilings, 
 
 All subjects may desert their kings, 
 
 And thus becoming disaffected, 
 
 Break bonds by which they were connected; 
 
 Assuming 'mougst the powers on earth 
 
 An equal rank, to which their birth, 
 
 The laws of heav'n and of nature, 
 
 Intitle every humau creature, 
 
 Respect when men are thus inclin'd, 
 
 For the opinions of mankind, 
 
 Requires they should the causes tell, 
 
 That have induc'd them to rebel. 
 
 First, let this downright maxim strike, 
 
 That all men are bora free alike, 
 
 And are undoubtedly allow'd. 
 
 By Providence to be endow'd 
 
 (As many a learned author writes) 
 
 With some unalienable rights ; 
 
 'Mong these we lay the greatest stress, 
 
 On life, pursuit of happiness, 
 
 And (what is best of all the three) 
 
 Of uncontrolled liberty. 
 
 For surely no one can believe, 
 
 But he's a certain right to live, 
 
 Without receiving cheek or stop here, 
 
 As long as ever he think proper: 
 
 Neither is life like chair or table, 
 
 .To one another alienable, 
 
 Neither can any mortal have, . 
 
 The right to make himself a slave 
 
 (Although by thieving we must say 
 
 Some people do it ev'ry day) : 
 
 Neither can any one entrap ye, 
 
 From the just right of being happy 
 
 (Tho' your chief happiness in life, 
 
 Should be to kiss your neighbour's wife). 
 
 To keep these rights by their consents, 
 
 Men instituted governments ; 
 
 And should they afterwards be tir'd, 
 
 Of systems that the world admir'd, 
 
 The people have a right t' abolish, 
 
 Alter, relinquish, and demolish, 
 
 By methods novel and surprising, 
 
 New states and powers organizing, 
 
 In such a form and figure diest, 
 
 As the wise authors shall think best. 
 
 Prudence indeed might plainly dictate, 
 
 (To any but a dull and thick pate) 
 
 That governments establish 'd ancient, 
 
 Should not be chang'd for causes transient, — 
 
 And therefore all experience shews. 
 
 That men would rather something lose, 
 
 Than to be rash, — because they're strong, 
 
 And right themselves by doing wrong.— 
 
 But when we had refused assent, 
 
 To British acts of parliament, 
 
 (Tho' bulwarks of the constitution) 
 
 And stuck to this our resolution 
 
 When we determined to be free, 
 
 And seiz'd on other people's tea, 
 
 Tarring and feathering ev'ry fool, 
 
 That spoke in favour of good rule ; 
 
 Broke up the courts of law and justice, 
 
 (For in ourselves — our hope and trust is) 
 
 Forcing from every one — concession, 
 
 To things of which we made profession, 
 
 And setting those we could not guide, 
 
 To ride upon a stick — astride, 
 
 Because we plainly saw designs, 
 
 To catch us in despotic mines ; 
 
 When after thin — the plans absurd, 
 
 Of that harsh tyrant George the Third. 
 
 Under a notion of expedience, 
 
 To bring us to a due obedience, 
 
 Pursued thro' regular gradation, 
 
 Of great abuse and usurpation, 
 Prove an invariable design, 
 Our liberties to undermine, 
 A resolution to betray, 
 And rule us by despotic sway ; 
 It is our right and our intent, 
 To throw off such a government, 
 Whilst other methods may be tried, 
 For future safety to provide. 
 
 During the winter which followed the battle 
 of Trenton occurred. We have a ballad in its 
 honor. 
 
 BATTLE OF TKENTOI*. 
 
 On Christmas day in '76, . 
 
 Our rugged troops with bayonets fix'd, 
 For Trenton marched away. 
 
 The Delaware see, the boats below, 
 The light obscured by hail and snow, 
 But no symptoms of dismay. 
 
 Our object waj the Plessian band, 
 That dared to invade fair freedom's land, 
 And quarter in that place. 
 
 Great Washington he led us on, 
 With ensigns streaming with renown, 
 Which ne'er had known disgrace. 
 
 In silent march we pass'd the night, 
 Each soldier panting for the fig'it, . 
 Though quite benumb'd with frost. 
 Greene on the left, at six began, 
 The right was with brave Sullivan, 
 Who in battle no time lost. 
 
 Their pickets storm'd, the alarm was spread, 
 That rebels risen from the dead 
 Were marching into town. 
 
 Some scamper'd here, some scamper'd there. 
 And some for action did prepare, 
 But soon their arms laid down. 
 
 Twelve hundred servile miscreants, 
 With all their colours, guns, and tents, 
 Were trophies of the day : 
 
 The frolic o'er, the blight canteen, 
 In centre, front, and rear was seen 
 Driving fatigue away. 
 
 Now, brothel's of the patriot bands, 
 Let's sing our safe deliverance 
 From arbitrary sway. 
 
 And as life you know is but a span, 
 Let's touch the tankard while we can, 
 In memory of the day.* 
 
 One of the patriotic productions of the same 
 year was a poem, in a pamphlet of fifteen pages, 
 commenting in a severe but not equally forcible 
 style on the conduct of Lord North. We quote 
 the title-page, confident that the reader will not 
 " ask for more." 
 
 The Continental Key of the Liberties of America; 
 in three parts. 
 
 Perhaps the critics of the age, 
 
 May find a fault in ev'ry page, 
 
 Or yet, perhaps, in ev'ry line, 
 
 Well, they have their faults, I have mine. 
 
 If any man should ask the price, 
 
 One or two shillings take your choice, 
 
 Sometimes true Whigs have given twenty, 
 
 But Tories think that five is plenty. 
 
 New York, printed for Elijah Weige, 1776. 
 
 * MeCarty's Songs, i. 24 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 449 
 
 We are indebted to the Curiosities of American 
 Literature, by R. W. Griswold, printed as an 
 Appendix to a reprint (New York, 1843) of 
 Disraeli's Curiosities, for two spirited produc- 
 tions on the defeat of Burgoyne. 
 
 THE FATE OF JOHN BTTRGOTNTJ.. 
 
 When Jack the king's commander 
 
 "Was going to his duty, 
 Through all the crowd he smiled and bow'd 
 
 To every blooming beauty. 
 
 The city rung with feats he'd done 
 
 In Portugal and Flanders, 
 And all the town thought he'd be crown'd 
 
 The first of Alexanders. 
 
 To Hampton Court he first repairs 
 
 To kiss great George's hand, sirs ; 
 Then to harangue on state affairs 
 
 Before he left the laud, sirs. 
 
 The " Lower House" sat mute as mouse 
 
 To hear his grand oration ; 
 And " all the peers," with loudest cheers, 
 
 Proclaimed him to the nation. 
 
 Then off he went to Canada, 
 
 Next to Ticonderoga, 
 And quitting those away he goes 
 
 Straightway to Saratoga. 
 
 With great parade his march he made 
 
 To gain his wished-for station, 
 While far and wide his minions hied 
 
 To spread his " Proclamation." 
 
 To such as staid he offers made 
 
 Of " pardon on submission ; 
 But savage bands should waste the lands 
 
 Of all in opposition." 
 
 But ah, the cruel fates of war 1 
 
 This boasted son of Britain, 
 When mounting his triumphal car 
 
 With sudden fear was smitten. 
 
 The sons of Freedom gathered round, 
 
 His hostile bands confounded, 
 And when they'd fain have turn'd their back 
 
 They found themselves surrounded ! 
 
 In vain they fought, in vain they fled, 
 
 Their chief, humane and tender, 
 To save the rest soon thought it best 
 
 His forces to surrender. 
 
 Brave St. Clair, when he first retired 
 
 Knew what the fates portended; 
 And Arnold and heroic Gates 
 
 His conduct have defended. 
 
 Thus may America's brave sons 
 
 With honour be rewarded, 
 And be the fate of all her foes 
 
 The same as here recorded. 
 
 TUB NORTH CAMPAIGN. 
 
 Come unto me, ye heroes, 
 
 Whose hearts are true and bold, 
 Who value more your honour 
 
 Than others do their gold ; 
 Give ear unto my story, 
 
 And I the truth will tell 
 Concerning many a soldier, 
 
 Who for his country fell. 
 
 Burgoyne, the king's commander, 
 
 From Canada set sail 
 With full eight thousand reg'lars, 
 
 He thought he could not fail ; 
 vol. I. — 29 
 
 With Indians and Canadians, 
 And his cursed Tory crew, 
 
 On board his fleet of shipping 
 He up the Champlain flew. 
 
 Before Ticonderoga, 
 
 The first day of July, 
 Appear'd his ships and army, 
 
 And we did them espy. 
 Their motions we observed 
 
 Full well both night and day, 
 And our brave boys prepared 
 
 To have a bloody fray. 
 
 Our garrison they viewed them, 
 
 As straight their troops did land, 
 And when St. Clair, our chieftain, 
 
 The fact did understand 
 That they the Mount Defiance 
 
 Were bent to fortify, 
 He found we must surrender, 
 
 Or else prepare to die. 
 
 The fifth day of July, then, 
 
 He order'd a retreat, 
 And when next morn we started, 
 
 Burgoyne thought we were beat. 
 And closely he pursued us, 
 
 Till when near Hubbardton, 
 Our rear guards were defeated, 
 
 He thought the country won. 
 
 And when 't was told in Congress, 
 
 That we our forts had left, 
 To Albany retreated, 
 
 Of all the North bereft. 
 Brave General Gates they sent us, 
 
 Our fortunes to retrieve, 
 And him with shouts of gladness 
 
 The army did receive. 
 
 Where first the Mohawk's waters 
 
 Do in the sunshine play, 
 For Herkimer's brave soldiers 
 
 Bellinger* ambush'd lay ; 
 And thein he there defeated, 
 
 But soon he had his due, 
 And seared f by Brooks and Arnoid. 
 
 He to the North withdrew. 
 
 To take the stores and cattle 
 
 That we had gather'd then, 
 Burgoyne sent a detachment 
 
 Of fifteen hundred men ; 
 By Baum they were commanded, 
 
 To Bennington they went; 
 To plunder and to murder 
 
 Was fully their intent. 
 
 But little did they know then, 
 
 With whom they had to deal ; 
 It was not quite so easy 
 
 Our stores and stock to steal : 
 Bold Starke would give them only 
 
 A portion of his lead ; 
 With half his crew ere sunset 
 
 Baum lay among the dead. 
 
 The nineteenth of September, 
 The morning cool and clear, 
 
 Brave Gates rode through our army, 
 Each soldier's heart to cheer ; 
 
 * St. Leger. 
 
 f A man employed by the British as a spy, was taken by 
 Arnold, and at the suggestion of Colonel Brooks sent back to 
 St. Leger with such deceptive accounts of the strength of the 
 Americans as induced him to retreat towards Montreal. 
 
450 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " Burgoyne," he cried, " advances, 
 But we will never fly ; 
 No — rather than surrender, 
 We'll fight him till we die." 
 
 The news was quickly brought us, 
 
 The enemy was near, 
 And all along our lines then, 
 
 There was no sign of fear ; 
 It was above Stillwater 
 
 We met at noon that day, 
 And every one expected 
 
 To see a bloody fray. 
 
 Six hours the battle lasted, 
 
 Each heart was true as gold, 
 The British fought like lions, 
 
 And we like Yankees bold ; 
 The leaves with blood were crimson, 
 
 And then brave Gates did cry — 
 " Tis diamond now cut diamond ! 
 
 We'll beat them, boys, or die." 
 
 The darkness soon approaching, 
 
 It forced us to retreat 
 Into our lines till morning, 
 
 Which made them think us beat; 
 But ere the sun was risen, 
 
 They saw before their eyes 
 Us ready to engage them, 
 
 Which did them much surprise. 
 
 Of fighting they seem'd weary, 
 
 Therefore to work they go 
 Their thousand dead to bury, 
 
 And breastworks up to throw : 
 With grape and bombs intending 
 
 Our army to destroy, 
 Or from our works our forces 
 
 By stratagem decoy. 
 
 The seventh day of October, 
 
 The British tried again, — 
 Shells from their cannon throwing 
 
 Which fell on us like rain, — 
 To drive us from our stations 
 
 That they might thus retreat; 
 For now Burgoyne saw plainly 
 
 He never us could beat. 
 
 But vain was his endeavour 
 
 Our men to terrify ; 
 Though death was all around us, 
 
 Not one of us would fly. 
 But when an hour we'd fought them, 
 
 And they began to yield, 
 Along our lines the cry ran, 
 " The next blow wins the field !" 
 
 Great God, who guides their battles 
 
 Whose cause is just and true, 
 Inspired our bold commander 
 
 The course he should pursue. 
 He order'd Arnold forward, 
 
 And Brooks to follow on ; 
 The enemy were routed 
 
 Our liberty was won ! 
 
 Then, burning all their luggage, 
 
 They fled with haste and fear, 
 Burgoyne with all his forces 
 
 To Saratogue did steer ; 
 And Gates our brave commander, 
 
 Soon after him did hie, 
 Resolving lie would take them 
 
 Or in the effort die. 
 
 As we came nigh the village, 
 We overtook the foe; 
 
 They'd burn'd each house to ashes, 
 
 Like all where'er they go. 
 The seventeenth of October, 
 
 They did capitulate — 
 Burgoyne and his proud army 
 
 Did we our pris'ners make. 
 
 Now here's a health to Arnold, 
 
 And our commander Gates ; 
 To Lincoln and to Washington, 
 
 Whom ev'ry Tory hates ; 
 Likewise unto our Congress, 
 
 God grant it long to reign, 
 Our Country, Right and Justice 
 
 For ever to maintain. 
 
 Now finish'd is my story, 
 
 My song is at an end ; 
 The freedom we're enjoying 
 
 We're ready to defend ; 
 For while our cause is righteous, 
 
 Heaven nerves the soldier's arm, 
 And vain is their endeavour 
 
 Who strive to do us harm. 
 
 To these we may add a third on the same sub- 
 jeet, from MoCarty's National Song Book. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG. 
 
 Said Burgoyne to his men, as they pass'd in review, 
 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys ! 
 These rebels their course very quickly will rue, 
 And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew, 
 When him, who is your leader, they know, 
 boys ! 
 They with men have now to deal, 
 And we soon will make them feel — 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys ! 
 That a loyal Briton's arm, and a loyal Briton's steel, 
 Can put to flight a rebel, as quick as other foe, 
 boys ! 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo— 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys ! 
 
 As to Sa-ra-tog' lie came, thinking how to jo the 
 game, 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys ! 
 He began to sec the grubs, in the branches of his 
 
 fame, 
 He began to have the trembles, lest a flash should 
 be the flame, 
 For which he had agreed his perfume to forego, 
 boys ! 
 No lack of skill, but fates, 
 Shall make us yield to Gates, 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys ! 
 The devils may have leagued, as you know, with 
 the States, 
 But we never will be beat by any mortal foe, 
 
 boys ! 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo — 
 Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys ! 
 
 Burgoyne, like Andre, amused himself with 
 literature. He was the author of four five-act 
 plays, three of which, The Maid of the Oaks, The 
 Lord of the Manor, and The Heiress, are comedies. 
 The fourth, Richard CiBnr de Lion, is an " His- 
 torical Romance," from the French of M. Sedaine. 
 The four were published with a few miscellaneous 
 poems, and a Life of the Author, in two volumes, 
 8vo. London, 1808. The comedies are in prose, 
 interspersed with songs, and were acted by the 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 451 
 
 British officers in garrison at Boston and New 
 York.* They possess little merit. We give the 
 
 PROLOGUE TO ZAEA. 
 
 Spoken by Lord Raicdon, at Boston. 
 In Britain once (it stains the historic page) 
 Freedom was vital-struck by party rage: , 
 Cromwell the fever watch'd, the knife supplied, 
 She madden'd, and by suicide she died. 
 Amidst the groans Bunk every liberal art 
 That polishM life, or humanized the heart ; 
 Then fell the st:ige, quell'd by the bigots' roar, 
 Truth fell with sense, and Shakspeare charm' d no 
 more. 
 
 To sooth the times too nrueh resembling those, 
 And lull the care-tir'd thought, this stage arose; 
 Proud if you hear, rewarded if you're pleased, 
 We come to minister to minds diseased. 
 To you, who, guardians of a nation's cause, 
 Unsheath the sword to vindicate her laws, 
 The tragic scene holds glory up to view, 
 And bids he.'oie virtue live in you: 
 Unite tiie patriot's with the warrior's care 
 And, while you burn to conquer, wish to spare. 
 The comic scene presides o'er social life, 
 And forms the husband, father, friend and wife ; 
 To paint from nature, and with colours nice 
 Shew us ourselves, and laugh us out of vice. 
 Now say, ye Bosto > prudes, (if prudes there are) 
 Is this a task unworthy of the fair? 
 Will fame, decorum, piety refuse 
 A call on beauty to conduct the Muse ? 
 Perish the narrow thought, the sland'rous tongue 1 
 When the heart's right, the action can't be wrong. 
 Behold the test, mark at the curtain's rise 
 How Malice sinks abashed at Zura's eyes.-j- 
 
 The adventurous capture of General Prescott 
 at Newport furnished ready material for a po- 
 pular ballad, which was not lost sight of. Pres- 
 cott was the commanding officer of the British 
 troops in possession of Newport, and had rendered 
 himself very unpopular by acts of petty tyranny. 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, of the American mi- 
 litia at Providence, determined to take him pri- 
 soner. Embarking with a small party of picked 
 men in four whale-boats, they crossed on the night 
 of the tenth of July, 1777, Narragansett bay to 
 the house of a Quaker named Overing, Prescott's 
 head-quarters, about five miles from the town. 
 Gagging the sentinel, they entered the house un- 
 perceived, roused Prescott from his bed, and car- 
 ried him oft' without giving him time to dress, 
 speed being essential to success in the daring ex- 
 ploit, from the presence of three British frigates 
 in the bay close to the house. The party re- 
 
 * The following paragraph from an English journal of the 
 period famishes as with some valuable information, hitherto 
 we believe unnoticed, relative to the amateur performances by 
 officers of the army, which appear from their frequency to 
 hive b -en extremely popular dining tbo British occupancy 
 of our cities. 
 
 " An American Correspondent says, that the officers of the 
 army in New York, concerned in the management of the 
 theatre, there form a body like any other company of Come- 
 dians, and share the profits arising from their exhibitions. To 
 people on this side the water, it may seem mean for British 
 officers to perform for hire : but in New York necessaries are 
 so extremely dear, that an inferior officer, who has no other 
 resources than his pay, undergoes more difficulties than the 
 common soldier ; and circumstanced as many brave men now 
 are in America, such an exertion of their talents to increase 
 their incomes deserves the greatest encouragement." — 1TS1, 
 Upcott s Newspaper Cuttings. 
 
 t A parody on this prologue was published in the Freeman's 
 Journal or New Hampshire Gazette, June 22, 1776. 
 
 crossed in safety, and conveyed their prisoner to 
 Providence, and thence to Washington's head- 
 quarters on the Hudson. Prescott remained a 
 prisoner until the following April, when he was 
 exchanged for General Charles Lee, and returned 
 to his troops in Rhode Island. Barton received 
 a sword, and a grant of land in Vermont, from 
 Congress. He subsequently became involved in 
 legal proceedings in consequence of a transfer of 
 a portion of this tract, and was thrown into pri- 
 son for debt, where he remained until the visit 
 of Lafayette in 1825, who, hearing of the circum- 
 stance, paid the debt and released the old sol- 
 dier.* 
 
 The ballad written on the occasion, it is said, 
 was served up to Prescott himself when he re- 
 turned to his station. The story is thus told : — 
 
 Shortly after his exchange he returned to Rhode 
 Island, and was invited to dine on board the admi- 
 ral's ship, with many other officers of the highest 
 grade. General Prescott was naturally a haughty, 
 imperious man, and as a commander was very un- 
 popular with his officers and soldiers, and with the 
 citizens of Newport, but a brave and skilful officer. 
 
 It was often that boys as well as men were sent 
 from the town on board the admiral's ship for any 
 offence, and confined there for some time, by the 
 arbitrary authority of those in power. Martial law 
 was the law of the place. A small lad, about thir- 
 teen years of age, was placed in this situation pre- 
 vious to General Preseott's return, and was on board, 
 with many others, at the time the general dined 
 there. He did not know General Prescott. 
 
 After dinner the wine circulated freel} 7 , and a 
 toast and soug were repeatedly called for. In the 
 course of the evening the first lieutenant observed 
 to the admiral, who was a real jolly son of Neptune, 
 that "there was a Yankee lad on board who would 
 shame all the singing." " Bring him up here," says 
 Prescott. The boy was accordingly brought into 
 the cabin. The admiral called on him to give them 
 a song. The little fellow, being somewhat intimidat- 
 ed by gold-laced coats, epaulettes, <tc, replied, " I 
 can't sing any songs but Yankee songs." The admi- 
 ral, perceiving that he was embarrassed, ordered 
 the steward to give him a glass of wine, saying, 
 " Come, my little fellow, don't be frightened ; give 
 ns one of your Yankee songs." General Prescott 
 spoke in his usual haughty, imperious manner, 
 " You d — d young rebel, give us a song or I'll give 
 you a dozen." The admiral interfered, and assured 
 the lad that he should be set at liberty the next day, 
 "if he would give them a song — any one he could 
 recollect." 
 
 The following doggerel, written by a sailor of 
 Newport, was then given, to the great amusement 
 of the company. 
 
 'Twas on a dark and stormy night, 
 
 The wind and waves did roar, 
 Bold Barton then, with twenty men, 
 
 Went down upon the shore. 
 
 And in a whale-boat they set off 
 
 To Rhode Island fair, 
 To catch a red-coat general 
 
 Who then resided there. 
 
 Through British fleets and guard-boats strong. 
 
 They held their dangerous wa}', 
 Till they arrived unto their port, 
 
 And then did not delay. 
 
 * Losslng's Field-Book, ii. 75. 
 
4:52 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 A tawny son of Afric's race 
 
 Them through the ravine led, 
 And entering then the Overiug House, 
 
 They found him in his bed. 
 
 But to get in they had no means 
 
 Except poor CufFee's head, 
 Who beat the door down, then rush'd in, 
 
 And seized him in his bed. 
 
 "Stop! let me put my breeches on," 
 
 The general then did pray : 
 " Your breeches, massa, I will take, 
 
 For dress we cannot stay." 
 
 Then through rye-stubble him they led, 
 
 With shoes and breeches none, 
 And placed him in their boat quite snug, 
 
 And from the shore were gone. 
 
 Soon the alarm was sounded loud, 
 " The Yankees they have come, 
 And stolen Prescott from his bed, 
 And him they've carried hum." 
 
 The drums were beat, skyrockets flew, 
 
 The soldiers shoulder'd arms, 
 And march'd around the ground they knew, 
 
 Fill'd with most dire alarms. 
 
 But through the fleet with muffled oars 
 
 They held their devious way, 
 And landed him on 'Ganset shore 
 
 Where Britain held no sway. 
 
 When unto land they came, 
 
 Where rescue there was nor.e, 
 " A d — d bold push," the general cried, 
 " Of prisoners I am one." 
 
 There was a general shout of all the company 
 during the whole song, and at the close, one who 
 was a prisoner on board at the time, observed, he 
 " thought the deck would come through with the 
 stamping and cheering." 
 
 General Prescott joined most heartily in the mer- 
 riment. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he 
 handed the boy a guinea, saying, " Here, you young 
 dog.isaguineafor you." The boy was set at liberty 
 the next morning. 
 
 This anecdote is often related by an aged gentle- 
 man living at Newport. * 
 
 There 13 another version thus given in Mrs. 
 Williams's Life of Barton. 
 
 The day was spent, the evening fair, 
 When Barton marched his men with caref 
 
 Down to the river's side ; 
 And unto them most nobly said — 
 " Let none embark who are afraid 
 
 To cross the swelling tide." 
 
 But they, like hardy sons of Mars, 
 Inurrd to hardships and to wars, 
 
 Most nobly did reply ; 
 " With manly rage our souls on fire, 
 We scorn the thought for to retire ; 
 
 We conquer will or die." 
 
 Tims did they cross and march away, 
 Where Prescott's host encamped lay, 
 On hostile measures bent ; 
 
 * McCarty's Songs, ii. 367-369, quoted f, om Plymouth Me- 
 morial, 1835. 
 
 t This song is still in traditional circulation. A friend had 
 it from an old soldier, who commenced his recitation vigor- 
 ously :— 
 
 The moon shone bright, the night was clear, 
 Bold Barton march'd his men with keer. 
 
 Young David took this bloody Saul, 
 And sentry, aid-de-canrp, and all, 
 Back to the boat they went. 
 
 You watchful host who round him kept, 
 To guard your General while he slept, 
 
 Now you have lost your head ; 
 Since they from freedom's happy shore, 
 Return'd and brought their booty o'er, 
 
 The hero from his bed. 
 
 Go to your king, and to him say, 
 " Call home your troops, call them away, 
 
 Or Prescott's fate they'll share." 
 For Barton, with his sling and stone, 
 Will bring the great Goliah down, 
 
 And catch him in a snare.* 
 
 We are indebted to North Carolina "Wood 
 Notes"'t for the following 
 
 TEIBUTE TO GENERAL FRANCIS NASH. 
 
 Genius of Freedom ! whither art thou fled ? 
 While fields of death thy sons undaunted tread, 
 Lo, where for thee thy brightest heroes fall, 
 And not thy shield to ward the winged ball. 
 
 On Bunker's height great Warren is no more ; 
 The brave Montgomery's fate we next deplore ; 
 Princeton's fam'd fields to trembling Britain tell, 
 How, scored with wounds, the conquering Mercer 
 
 fell; 
 New England's boast, the generous Wooster, slain, 
 Demands our tears ; while Britons fly the plain. 
 Last flow our sorrows for a favourite son, 
 Whom, weeping, Carolina claims her own, 
 The gallant Nash, who, with the fatal wound, 
 Though tortured, welt'ring on the hostile ground, 
 " Fight on, my troops," with smiling ardor said, 
 " 'Tis but the fate of war, be not dismay'd." 
 
 High Heaven ordain'd for great designs this woe. 
 Which, till the destined period, none must know. 
 Heroes of old thus for their country stood, 
 Raised mighty empires, founded with their blood ; 
 In this new world like great events must come ; 
 Thus Athens rose, and thus imperial Rome. 
 
 Inscribed to Col. Thomas Clark, of the First North 
 Carolina Battabon, by his friend and most obedient 
 humble servant, 
 
 Alex. Martin. 
 Camp, near Germantown. 
 Oct. 30, 17T7. 
 
 General Nash was wounded on the fourth, and 
 died on the seventh of October, 1 777. Lieut.-Col. 
 Alexander Martin, the author of the lines, at the 
 close of the war became governor of his native 
 state of North Carolina, and afterwards a senator 
 of the United States. Col. Clark succeeded to 
 Nash's command.J 
 
 The unsuccessful attempt, in connexion with the 
 French fleet, to dislodge the British from New- 
 port, in July, 1778, gave occasion to a lively 
 Tory effusion. 
 
 YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION TO T.HODE ISLAND. 
 
 Written at Philadelphia. 
 I. 
 From Lewis, Monsieur Gerard came 
 To Congress in this town, Sir, 
 
 * Mrs. Williams's Biog. of Eevolutionary Heroes. Provi- 
 dence : 1839. p. 128. 
 
 t Wood Notes ; or Carolina Carols: a Collection of North 
 Carolina Poetry. Compiled hy Tenella. Ealeigh: Warren L. 
 Pomeroy. 1854. 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 t Wood Notes, ii. 235. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 They bow'd to him, and he to them, 
 And then they" all sat down, Sir. 
 
 Chorus. Yankee Doodle, &a. 
 
 Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup 
 You shall bientot behold. Sir, 
 
 This was believ'd as Gospel true, 
 And Jonathan felt bold, Sir. 
 
 So Yankee Doodle did forget 
 The sound of British drum, Sir, 
 
 How oft it made him quake and sweat 
 In spite of Yankee rum, Sir. 
 
 He took his wallet on his baek, 
 His rifle on his shoulder, 
 
 And vom'd Rhode Island to attack 
 Before he was much older. 
 
 In dread array their tatter'd crew, 
 Advanced with colours spread, Sir; 
 
 Their fifes play'd Yankee Doodle doo, 
 King Hancock at their head, Sir. 
 
 What numbers bravely crossM the seas, 
 
 I cannot well determine, 
 A swarm of rebels and of fleas, 
 
 And every other vermin. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Their mighty hearts might shrink they tho't. 
 
 For all flesh only grass is, 
 A plenteous store they therefore brougt 
 
 Of whiskey and molasses. 
 
 They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak, 
 
 So did their good Ally, Sir, 
 And take him prisoner in a week ; 
 
 But that was all my eye, Sir. 
 
 As Jonathan so much desir'd, 
 
 To shine in martial story, 
 D'Estaing with politesse retir'd 
 
 To leave him all the glory. 
 
 x. 
 
 He left him what was better yet, 
 At least it was more use, Sir, 
 
 He left him for a quick retreat, 
 A ver}- good excuse, Sir. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To stay, unless he ruled the sea, 
 He thought would not be right, Sir, 
 
 And Continental troops, said he, 
 On islands should not fight, Sir. 
 
 Another cause with these corabin'd, 
 
 To throw him in the dumps, Sir, 
 For Clinton's name alarmed his mind 
 And made him stir his stamps, Sir, 
 
 Sing Yankee doodle doodle doo. 
 Eivington's Eoyal Gazette, Oct. 3, 1778. 
 
 The next event of the war of which we offer 
 poetical commemoration, is the Massacre at 
 Wyoming. The ballad which follows is printed, 
 apparently for the first time, in the Appendix to 
 
 the History of Wyoming by Charles Miner,* where 
 it is stated to have been written soon after the 
 tragedy by " Mr. Uriah Terry, of Kingston." 
 
 WYOMING MASSACRE. 
 
 Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse. 
 
 While she attempts to tell 
 Of poor "Wyoming's overthrow, 
 
 By savage sons of hell. 
 
 One hundred whites, in painted hue. 
 
 Whom Butler there did lead, 
 Supported by a barb'rous crew 
 
 Of the fierce savage breed. 
 
 The last of June the siege-began, 
 
 And several days it held, 
 While many a brave and valiant man 
 
 Lay slaughtered on the field. 
 
 Our troops marched out from Forty Fort. 
 
 The third day of Jul}", 
 Three hundred strong, they marched along, 
 
 The fate of war to try. 
 
 But oh ! alas ! three hundred men, 
 
 Is much too small a band, 
 To meet eight hundred men complete, 
 
 And make a glorious stand. 
 
 Four miles they marched from the Fort 
 
 Their enemy to meet, 
 Too far indeed did Butler lead, 
 
 To keep a safe retreat. 
 
 And now the fatal hour is come — 
 
 They bravely charge the foe. 
 And they with ire, returned the fire. 
 
 Which prov'd our overthrow. 
 
 Some minutes they sustained the fire, 
 
 But ere they were aware 
 They were encompassed all around 
 
 Which prov'd a fatal snare. 
 
 And then they did attempt to fly, 
 
 But all was now in vain, 
 Their little host — by far the most — 
 
 Was by those Indians slain. 
 
 And as they fly, for quarters cry; 
 
 Oh hear! indulgent Ilcav'n ! 
 Hard to relate — their dreadful fate, 
 
 No quarters must be given. 
 
 With bitter cries and mournful sighs 
 
 They seek some safe retreat, 
 Run here and there, they know not where. 
 
 Till awful deatli they meet. 
 
 Their piercing cries salute the skies — 
 Mercy is all their cry : 
 ' Our souls prepare God's grace to share. 
 We instantly must die." 
 
 Some men yet found are flying round 
 
 Sagacious to get clear ; 
 In vain to fly, their foes too nigh I 
 
 They front the flank and rear. 
 
 And now the foe hath won the day, 
 Methinks their words are these : 
 " Ye cursed, rebel, Yankee race, 
 
 Will this your Congress please V 
 
 " Your pardons crave, you them shall have, 
 Behold them in our hands ; 
 We'll all agree to set you free, 
 By dashing out your brains. 
 
 * History of Wyoming in a Series of Letters, from Charles 
 Miner, to his son, William Penn Miner, Esq. Phila. : J. Oessy. 
 1S45. 
 
454 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 'And as for you, enlisted crew, 
 
 We'll raise your honours higher : 
 Pray turn your eye, where you must lie, 
 In yonder burning fire." 
 
 Then naked in those flames they're cast, 
 
 Too dreadful 'tis to tell, 
 Where they must fry, and burn and die, 
 
 While cursed Indians yell. 
 
 Nor son, nor sire, these tigers spare, — 
 
 The youth, and hoary head, 
 Were by those monsters murdered there, 
 
 And numbered with the dead. 
 
 Methinks I hear some sprightly youth, 
 His mournful state condole : 
 ' 0, that my tender parents knew, 
 The anguish of my soul. 
 
 'But ! there's none to save my life, 
 Or heed my dreadful fear ; 
 I see the tomahawk arid knife, 
 And the more glittering spear. 
 
 When years ago, I dandled was 
 
 Upon my parents' knees, 
 I little thought I should be brought 
 
 To feel such pangs as these. 
 
 ' I hoped for many a joyful day, 
 I hoped for riches' store — 
 These golden dreams are fled away; 
 I strniglit shall be no more. 
 
 ' Farewell, fond mother ; late I was, 
 Locked up in your embrace ; 
 Your heart would ache, and even break, 
 If you could know my case. 
 
 ' Farewell, indulgent parents dear, 
 I must resign my bre;ith ; 
 I now must die, and here must lie 
 In the cold arms of death. 
 
 ' For ! the fatal hour is come, 
 I see the bloody knife, — 
 The Lord have mercy on my soul !" 
 And quick resigned his life. 
 
 A doleful theme ; yet, pensive muse, 
 
 Pursue the doleful theme: 
 It is no fancy to delude, 
 
 Nor transitory dream. 
 
 The Forty Fort was the resort, 
 
 For mother and for child, 
 To save them from the cruel rage, 
 
 Of the fierce savage wild. 
 
 Now, when the news of this defeat, 
 
 Had sounded in our ears, 
 You well may know our dreadful woe, 
 
 And our foreboding fears. 
 
 A doleful sound is whispered round, 
 
 The sun now hides his head ; 
 The nightly gloom forebodes our doom, 
 
 We all shall soon be dead. 
 
 How can we bear the dreadful spear, 
 
 The tomahawk and knife \ 
 And if we run, the awful gun, 
 
 Will rob us of our life. 
 
 But Heaven ! kind Heaven, propitious power I 
 
 His hand we must adore. 
 He did assuage the savage rage, 
 
 That they should kill no more. 
 
 The gloomy night now gone and past, 
 
 The sun returns again, 
 The little birds from every bush, 
 
 Seem to lament the slain. 
 
 With aching hearts and trembling hands 
 
 We walked here and there, 
 Till through the northern pines we saw, 
 
 A flag approaching near. 
 
 Some men were chose to meet this flag, 
 
 Our colonel was the chief, 
 Who soon returned and in his mouth 
 
 He brought an olive leaf. 
 
 This olive leaf was granted life, 
 
 But then we must no more, 
 Pretend to fight with Britain's king, 
 
 Until the wars are o'er. 
 
 And now poor Westmoreland is lost, 
 
 Our forts are all resigned, 
 Our buildings they are all on fire, — 
 
 What shelter can we find ? 
 
 They did agree in black and white, 
 
 If we'd lay down our arms, 
 That all who pleased might quietly 
 
 Remain upon their farms. 
 
 But 0! they've robbed us of our all, 
 
 They've taken all but life, 
 And we'll rejoice and bless the Lord, 
 
 If this may end the strife. 
 
 And now I've told my mournful tale, 
 
 I hope you'll all agree, 
 To help our cause and break the jaws 
 
 Of cruel tyranny. 
 
 In the same year, appeared from the press of 
 Thomas and Samuel Green, New Haven, a pamph- 
 let entitled Poems, occasioned by several circum- 
 stances and reminiscences in the present grand corn- 
 iest of America for Liberty. The author has been 
 ascertained by the Rev. Stephen Dodd, of East 
 Haven church, who has republished the poems,* 
 to have been the Rev. Wheeler Case, pastor of the 
 Presbyterian church of Pleasant Valley, Dutchess 
 county, New York. He states in his preface that 
 some of the pieces have been written merely for 
 amusement, and others with design to promote 
 the cause ofliberty, into whose Treasury he casts 
 his mite in publishing them. They are quaint 
 and spirited expressions of patriotism and piety, 
 mainly elicited by the defeat of Burgoyne. The 
 struggle is symbolized by a contest between the 
 eagle and the crane, in which the latter (in 1776) 
 is hopefully made to come off victorious. The 
 " tragical death of Miss M'Crea" is celebrated with 
 more feeling than art. In the verses, " An An- 
 swer to the Messengers of the Nation," with a 
 text from Isaiah, the writer expresses the not un- 
 common feeling of the pulpit of those days towards 
 General Washington, who was looked to as a de- 
 liverer under the protection of heaven, " the sword 
 of the Lord and of Gideon." 
 
 We give two passages from this old volume for 
 their earnestness and their historical value. 
 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 Let not my theme by any be abus'd, 
 Tho' Ziorfs founded, means must yet be us'd. 
 When foes with spears rush on us like a flood, 
 Cursd be the man who keeps his sword from blood,] 
 When wonders great for Zion have been done, 
 God and his people went to war as one. 
 
 * Revolutionary Memorials, embracing Poems by the Ber. 
 Wheeler Case. Now York : M. W. Dodd. 1S52. 
 + Jcr. xlviii. 10. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 455 
 
 Gideon went forth against a mighty host, 
 
 Three hundred men were all that he could boast; 
 
 Before these few the Midianites now fall. 
 
 It was one sword alone that did it all, 
 
 E'en by the sword of God and Gideon. 
 
 What great exploits were done by Israel's King, 
 
 How we hear this hero vict'ry sing. 
 
 Where did he learn this skill, or whence this might? 
 
 The God of armies taught his hands to fight. 
 
 When Zion's foes against her did conspire, 
 
 Hail-stones from heaven were sent, and flames of fire. 
 
 To crush her foes and maintain her cause, 
 
 The God of nature alters nature's laws ; 
 
 The sun and moon are stopp'd, they cease to ruo, 
 
 'Till Joshuas work is o'er, his work is done. 
 
 Joshua the hero, and the man of God, 
 
 Rais'd up his eye, his mandate sent abroad, 
 
 Thou sun, bright lamp of day, thou moon, stand still, 
 
 Nor dare advance to yonder Western hill, 
 
 'Till I have erush'd my foes and done Jehovah's will. 
 
 But why need we go back to ancient dates, 
 
 While wonders great are done within these States? 
 
 Jehovah's power, his all-wise providence, 
 
 Hath been engag'd for us in our defence. 
 
 Let's eye that Providence, adore the hand, 
 
 That rais'd for us a Joshua in our land. 
 
 O what a blessing to the States ! it is our bliss, 
 
 Great Washington was rais'd for such a day as this. 
 
 How g"od, how kind is most indulgent heav'n, 
 
 That such a leader to ourjariny's giv'n ! 
 
 What great exploits he and his troops have done! 
 
 How bravely they have fought, what vict'ries won. 
 
 It was the Lord that did their breasts inspire 
 
 With thirst for liberty and martial fire, 
 
 'Twas he their operations planu'd so well, 
 
 And fought for them, e'eu when ten thousand fell. 
 
 When these affairs are viewM and duly scann'd, 
 
 He's blind that does not see Jehovah's hand. 
 
 See Washington thro' Jersey State retreat, 
 
 His foes rejoice — they thought that he was beat; 
 
 Howe hint pursues with speed, he presses on, 
 
 He thought the day his own, the vict'ry won. 
 
 The secret friends of George their off rings bring, 
 
 They boldly raise their head, and own their King; 
 
 A gloom is spread around, alas! what grief, 
 
 We know not where to go to find relief. 
 
 A storm of snow and hail the Lord sent down, 
 
 A blessed season this for Washington : 
 
 He now return'd, and thro' the storm he press'd, 
 
 And caught twelve hundred Hessians in their nest. 
 
 Our hero pitch'd his tents near Trenton bridge, 
 
 Home gather'd all his troops upon a ridge, 
 
 Not far from where his little army lay, 
 
 Impatient waits his vengeance to display, 
 
 Determin'd when the shades of night were o'er, 
 
 Great Washington should fall and be no more. 
 
 But he with skill consummate did retire, 
 
 Soon made the foe at Princeton feel his ire. 
 
 Leaving the valiant Howe to tight the fire* 
 
 THE FALL OF BURGOTNE. 
 
 Is this Burgogne, Burgogne the great, 
 
 Who fill'd our land with woe, 
 And threaten'd vengeance from the state, 
 
 Is he now fell so low? 
 
 Is't he that made the earth to tremble, 
 That was so great a curse, 
 
 * General Washington ordered a number of fires to be made, 
 and kept burning till towards da}'. In the middle of the nteht 
 be made a forced march Lo Princeton, where he attacked and 
 took two regiments stationed there. In t lie morning Howe was 
 preparing to attack Washington, and mrch elated with expec- 
 tations of crushing birn, sent oat bisspies to make discoveries ; 
 but to bis great surprise was soon informed where Washington 
 was, by hearing the heavy cannonade at Princeton. 
 
 That doth great Babel's king resemble, 
 Is he now weak like us? 
 
 To Indians he gives stretch no more, 
 
 Nor them supplies with knives 
 To stain our land with crimson gore, 
 
 With them to sealp our wives. 
 
 His threat'niug proclamation's stopp'd, 
 He's now o'erspread with gloom, 
 
 The wings with which he flew are cropp'd, 
 He has no elbow-room. 
 
 His titles he proclaims no more, 
 
 No more his triumphs spread, 
 His thund'riug cannon cease to roar, 
 
 And all his joys are fled. 
 
 Where is his great and mighty host, 
 
 That huge gigantic race, 
 The sons of Anak, Britain's boast? 
 
 They're pris'ners in disgrace. 
 
 Pris'ners to rebels, Yankies too, 
 
 O mortifying stroke ! 
 They caught Burgogne witli all his crew, 
 
 Britons now wear the yoke. 
 
 Great Washington, that man of might, 
 
 Hath laid a snare for Howe, 
 Unless with speed he takes his flight, 
 
 He to the yoke must bow. 
 
 During this year Eivington's contributors kept 
 up a constant succession of pasquinades. We 
 quote a few : — 
 
 New York, October 24, 1778. 
 
 INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 We learn from Philadelphia, that there was lately 
 exhibited in that city, an admirable Farce called 
 Indei-endence. Who was the author is not posi- 
 tively known. Some people are of opinion, that it 
 is the work of a certain Quack Doctor, called Frank- 
 lin. Others assert, that it is the joint production of 
 the strolling company by whom it was acted ; it is, 
 however, generally allowed, that one Adams gave 
 the first hint, contrived the plot, and cast the 
 parts. It appeared in the exhibition so tragi-comical 
 that the audience were at a loss whether to laugh 
 or cry; they were, however, well pleased with the 
 catastrophe, and joined heartily in the following 
 chorus, which was sung by the excellent actor who 
 played the part of the President. The celebrated 
 Voltaire somewhere relates, that a soug was the 
 cause of the Reformation in France, 
 
 Our farce is now finish'd, your sport's at an end, 
 But ere you depart, let the voice of a friend, 
 By way of a chorus the evening crown. 
 With a song to the tune of a hey derry down. 
 
 Derry down, down, hey derry down. 
 
 Old Shakspeare, a poet who should not be spit on, 
 Altho' lie was born in the island called Briton, 
 Hath said that mankind are all players at best, 
 A truth we'll admit of, for the sake of the jest. 
 Derry down, &a. 
 
 On this puny stage we have strutted our hour, 
 And have acted our parts to the best of our power. 
 That the farce has concluded not perfectly well 
 Was surely the fault of the Devil in Hell. 
 
 Derry down, &e. 
 This Devil, you know, out of spleen to the church, 
 Will often times leave his best friends in the lurch, 
 And turn them adrift in the midst of their joy ; 
 Tis a difficult matter to cheat the old boy. 
 
 Derry down, <fec. 
 
456 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Since this is the case, we must e'en make the best 
 
 Of a game that is lost ; let us turn it to jest, 
 
 We'll smile, nay, we'll laugh, we'll carouse and we'll 
 
 sing, 
 And cheerfully drink life and health to the King. 
 Derry down, <fec. 
 
 Let "Washington now from his mountains descend, 
 Who knows but in George he may still find a 
 
 friend. 
 A. Briton, although he loves bottle and wench, 
 Jb an honester fellow than parlez vous French. 
 Derry down, <tc. 
 
 Our great Independence we give to the wind, 
 
 And pray that Great Britain may once more be 
 
 kind, 
 In this jovial 6ong all hostility ends, 
 And Britons and we will for ever be friends. 
 Derry down, (fee. 
 
 Boy, fill me a bumper, now join in the chorns, 
 There's happiness still in the prospect before us; 
 In this sparkling glass all hostility ends, 
 And Britons and we will for ever be friends. 
 Derry down, <fec. 
 
 Good night, my good people, retire to your houses, 
 Fair ladies, I beg you convince your fair spouses, 
 That Britons and we are united in bliss, 
 And ratify all with a conjugal kiss-. 
 Derry down, <fcc. 
 
 Once more, here's a health to the King and the 
 
 Queen, 
 Confusion to him who in rancor and spleen, 
 Refuses to drink witli an English friend, 
 Immutable amity to the world's end. 
 Derry down, <fec. 
 
 P.ivington's Eoval Gazette, Saturday, 
 October 24, 177S. 
 
 Our next extract is from a production of some 
 hundred and fifty lines, which appeared Nov. 
 6, entitled, 
 
 THE CONGRATULATION. 
 
 Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold, 
 The great cnjolers are themselves cajol'd: 
 What, now, is left of continental brags, 
 Taxes unpaid, though payable in rags. 
 What now remains of continental force? 
 Battalions mouldering, waste without resource. 
 What rests there yet of continental sway ? 
 A ruin'd people ripe to disobey ; 
 Hate now of men, and soon to be the jest, 
 Such is your state, ye monsters of the west, 
 Yet must on every face a smile be worn, 
 Whilst every breast with agony ib torn, 
 Hopeless yourselves, yet hope you must impart, 
 And comfort others with an aching heart. 
 HI fated they, who, lost at home, must boast 
 Of help expected from a foreign coast, 
 How wretched is their lot to France and Spain, 
 Who look for succour, but who look in vain. 
 
 Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold, 
 
 The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd. 
 
 Courage, my boys, dismiss your chilling fears, 
 
 Attend to me. Til put you in your gears, 
 
 Come, I'll instruct you how to advertise 
 
 Your missing friends, your hide-and-seek allies. 
 
 TE3 ! if any man alive will bring 
 
 News of the squadron of the Christian King, 
 
 If any man will fiiid out Count d'Estaing, 
 
 With wdiose scrub actions both the Indies rang ; 
 
 If any man will ascertain on oath, 
 
 What is become of Monsieur de la Mothe ; 
 
 Whoever these important points explains, 
 Congress will nobly pay him for his pains, 
 Of pewter dollars what both hands can hold, 
 A thimblef ull of plate, a mite of gold ; 
 The lauds of some big Tory, he shall get, 
 And strut a famous Col'nel en brevet, 
 And last, to honour him (we scorn to bribe), 
 We'll make him chief of the Oneida tribe. 
 
 This was followed on the 27th of the same 
 month by 
 
 THE SIEGE OF SAVANNAH. 
 
 Come let us rejoice, 
 
 With heart and with voice 
 Her triumphs let loyalty show, sir, 
 
 While bumpers go round 
 
 Re-echo the sound, 
 Huzza, for the King and Prevost, sir. 
 
 With warlike parade, 
 
 And his Irish brigade, 
 His ships and his spruce Gallic host, Bir, 
 
 As proud as an elf, 
 
 D'Estaing came himself, 
 And landed on Georgia's coast, sir. 
 
 There joining a band, 
 
 Under Lincoln's command, 
 Of rebels and traitors and Whigs, sir, 
 
 'Gainst the town of Savannah, 
 
 He planted his banner, 
 And then he felt wonderous big, sir. 
 
 With thund'ring of guns, 
 
 And bursting of bombs, 
 He thought to have frighted our Boys, sir, 
 
 But amidst all their din, 
 
 Brave Maitland push'd in. 
 And Moncrieff cry'd, " a fig for your noise, sir." 
 
 Chagrin'd at delay 
 
 (As he meant not to stay), 
 The bold Count form'd his troops in the morn, sir, 
 
 Van, centre, and rear 
 
 March'd up without fear, 
 Cock sure of success — by a storm, sir. 
 
 Though rude was the shock, 
 
 Unmov'd as a rock, 
 Stood our firm British bands to their works, sir. 
 
 While the brave German corps, 
 
 And Americans bore, 
 Their parts as intrepid as Turks, sir. 
 
 Then muskets did rattle, 
 
 Fierce raged the battle, 
 Grape shot it flew thicker than hail, sir. 
 
 The ditch fill'd with slain, 
 
 Blood dyed all the plain, 
 When the rebels and French turned tail, sir.. 
 
 See, see, how they run ! 
 
 Lord ! what glorious fun ! 
 How they tumble by cannon mow'd down, sirl 
 
 Brains fly all around, 
 
 Dying screeches resound, 
 And mangled limbs cover the ground, sir. 
 
 There Polasky fell 
 
 That Imp of old Bell, 
 Who attempted to murder his King, sir, 
 
 But now he is gone 
 
 Whence he'll never return, 
 But will make II — ■ with treason to ring, sir. 
 
 To Charlestown with fear, 
 
 The rebels repair, 
 D'Estaing scampers back to his boats, sir, 
 
 Each blaming the other, 
 
 Each cursing his brother, 
 And may they cut each other's throats, sir. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 457 
 
 Scarce three thousand men, 
 
 The town did maintain, 
 'Gainst three times their number of foes, sir, 
 
 Who left on the plain, 
 
 Of wounded and slain, 
 Three thousand to fatten the crows, sir. 
 
 Three thousand ? No less ! 
 
 For the rebels confess 
 Some loss, as you very well know, sir, 
 
 Then let bumpers go round, 
 
 And re-echo the sound, 
 Huzza for the King and Prevost, sir. 
 Eivington's Gazette, Nov. 27, 177y. 
 
 A poem on Washington, dated in 1770, merits 
 insertion here. 
 
 Let venal poets praise a King 
 
 For virtues unpossessM, 
 A volunteer, unbrib'd I sing 
 
 The Hero of the West. 
 
 When Gaul came on with rapid stride, 
 
 And vict'ry was the word, 
 First shone his country's future pride, 
 
 And flesh'd his maiden sword. 
 
 With conquest crown'd, from war's alarms, 
 To study bent his mind ; — 
 " Equal to both, to arts or arms 
 indiff'rently inclin'd." 
 
 Elate with fancied pow'r and pride, 
 
 Impell'd by angry Jove ; 
 Nor fates nor justice on their side, 
 
 The British legions move. 
 
 With them a tribe of foreign slaves 
 
 A mercenary band, 
 For plunder bold, inur'd to blood, 
 
 Invade his native laud. 
 
 His country calls, to arms lie flies, 
 
 Nor fears a tyrant's frown ; 
 Leads heroes, favour'd by the skies, 
 
 To glory and renown. 
 
 In vain the British tyrant storms, 
 
 His thunders fright no more, — 
 His hardy vet'rans, vainly brave, 
 
 Shall rly the happy shore. 
 
 The willing Chiefs around him throng, 
 
 Impatient of delay; 
 Their noble ardour he restrains, 
 
 And points the surer way. 
 
 Pursue, Great Chief, the glorious race — 
 Thy country's sword and shield ; — 
 
 Thrice happy ! bo i alike to grace 
 The senate a dt:o field. 
 New Hampshire Gazette, Oct. 12, 1779. 
 
 We now come to one of the most famous pieces 
 of verse composed during the war. It owes its 
 reputation, however, more to the untimely death 
 of its author than to its own merits. Having al- 
 ready given, in our extract from Hamilton, the 
 best account of the most memorable portion of 
 Andre's life, we present without further preface 
 
 THE COW-CHASE. 
 CANTO I. 
 
 To drive the kine one summer's morn, 
 
 The Tinner* took his way. 
 The calf shall rue that is unborn 
 
 The jumbling of that day. 
 
 And Wayne descending steers shall know 
 
 And tauntingly deride, 
 And call to mi.nl in ev'ry low 
 
 The tanning of his hide. 
 
 Yet Bergen cows still ruminate 
 
 Unconscious in the stall, 
 What mighty means were used to get 
 
 And loose them after all. 
 
 For many heroes bold and brave 
 From New-Bridge and Tapaan,* 
 
 And those that drink Passaick's wave, 
 And those that eat Soupaun. 
 
 And sons of distant Delaware 
 
 And still remoter Shannon, 
 And Major Lee with horses rare 
 
 And Proctor with his cannon. 
 
 All wondrous proud in arms they came, 
 
 What hero could refuse, 
 To trend the rugged path to fame, 
 
 Who had a pair of shoes? 
 
 At six the Host "with sweating buff, 
 
 Arrived at Freedom's pole, 
 When Wayne who thought he'd time enough, 
 
 Thus speechified the whole. 
 
 ye whom glory doth unite 
 Who Freedom's cause espouse, 
 
 Whether the wing that's doomed to fight 
 Or that to drive the cows. 
 
 Ere yet you tempt your further way 
 
 Or into action come. 
 Hear, soldiers, what I have to say, 
 
 And take a pint of rum. 
 
 Intemp'rate valor then will string, 
 
 Eaeh nervous arm the better, 
 So all the land shall 10 sing 
 
 And read the geu'ral's letter. 
 
 Know that some paltry Refugees, 
 
 Whom I've a mind to fright, 
 Are playing h — 1 amongst the trees 
 
 That grow on yonder height. 
 
 Their Fort and block-houses we'll level, 
 
 And deal a horrid slaughter, 
 We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil, 
 
 And ravish wife and daughter. 
 
 1 under cover of th' attack, 
 
 Whilst you are all at blows, 
 From English Neighborhood and Tinack* 
 Will drive away the cows. 
 
 For well you know the latter is 
 
 The serious operation, 
 And fighting with the Refugees 
 
 Is only recreation. 
 
 His daring words from all the crowd, 
 
 Such great applause did gain, 
 That every man declared aloud 
 
 For serious work with Wayne. 
 
 Then from the cask of rum once more 
 
 They took a heady gill, 
 When one and nil they loudly swore, 
 
 They'd fight upon the hill. 
 
 But here — the Muse has not a strain 
 
 Befitting such great deeds, 
 Huzza, they cried, huzza for Wayne, 
 
 And shouting — <hd their neels. 
 
 * General Wayne's legal occupation. 
 
 * Villages in New Jersey. 
 
458 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 canto n. 
 Near his meridian pomp, the sun 
 
 Had journey'd from the hor'zon, 
 When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on, 
 
 Of heroes drunk as poison. 
 
 The sounds confused of boasting oaths, 
 
 Re-eehoed thro' the wood, 
 Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's clothes 
 
 And some to swim in blood. 
 
 At Irving's nod 'twas fine to see, 
 
 The left prepare to fight, 
 The while the drovers, Wayne and Lee, 
 
 Drew off upon the right. 
 
 Which Irving 'twas fame don't relate, 
 
 Nor can the iluse assist her, 
 Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat 
 
 Or he that gives a glister. 
 
 For greatly one was signalized, 
 
 That fought at Chesnut-Hill, 
 And Canada immortalized, 
 
 The vender of the pill 
 
 Yet their attendance upon Proctor, 
 They both might have to boast of; 
 
 For there was business for the doctor, 
 And hats to be disposed of. 
 
 Let none uncandidly infer, 
 
 That Stirling wanted spunk, 
 The self-made peer had sure been there, 
 
 But that the peer was drunk. 
 
 But turn we to the Hudson's banks, 
 Where stood the modest train, 
 
 With purpose finu tho' slender ranks, 
 Nor card a pin for Wayne. 
 
 For them the unrelenting hand 
 
 Of rebel fury drove 
 And tore from ev'ry gerial band, 
 
 Of friendship and of love. 
 
 And some within a dungeon's gloom, 
 
 By mock tribunals laid, 
 Had waited long a cruel doom, 
 
 Impending o'er their head. 
 
 Here one bewails a brother's fate 
 
 There one a sire demands, 
 Cut off, alas ! before their date, 
 
 By ignominious hands. 
 
 And silver'd grandsires here appear'd 
 
 In deep distress serene, 
 Of reverend manners that declared, 
 
 The better days they'd seen. 
 
 Oh cursed rebellion these are thine, 
 
 Thine all these tales of wo, 
 Shall at thy dire insatiate shrine 
 
 Blood never eease to flow? 
 
 And now the foe began to lead 
 
 His forces to th' attack : 
 Balls whistling unto balls succeed. 
 
 And make the block-house crack. 
 
 No shot could pass, if you will take 
 
 The Gen'ral's word for true; 
 But 'tis a d ble mistake. 
 
 For ev'ry shot went thro'. 
 
 The firmer as the rebels pressed, 
 
 The loyal heroes stand ; 
 Virtue had nerv'd each honest breast, 
 
 And industry each hand. 
 
 In* valour's phrensy. Hamilton 
 Rode like a soldier big, 
 
 * Vide Lee"s Trial. 
 
 And Secretary Harrison, 
 With pen stuck in his wig. 
 
 But lest their Chieftain Washington, 
 Should mourn them in the mumps,* 
 
 The fate of Withrii gton to shun, 
 They fought behind the stumps. 
 
 But ah, Thaddasus Posset, why 
 
 Should thy poor soul elope ? 
 And why should Titus Hooper die, 
 
 Ah die — without a rope? 
 
 Apostate Murphy, thou to whom 
 
 Fair Sbela ne'er was cruel ; 
 In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom, 
 
 Ouch wou'd ye die my Jewel? 
 
 Thee Nathan Pumpkin, I lament, 
 
 Of melancholy fate, 
 The gray goose stolen as he went, 
 
 In his heart's b.ood was wet. 
 
 Now as the fight was further fought, 
 
 And balls began to thicken, 
 The fray assuin'd, the Gen'rals thought, 
 
 The colour of a licking. 
 
 Yet undismay'd the chiefs command, 
 
 And to redeem the day, 
 Cry, solliees ciurge ! they hear, they stand, 
 
 They turn and run away. 
 
 canto m. 
 
 Not all delights the bloody spear, 
 
 Or horrid din of battle, 
 There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear, 
 
 A word about the cattle. 
 
 The chief whom we beheld of late, 
 Near Schralenberg haranguing, 
 
 At Yan "Van Poop's, j- unconscious sat 
 Of Irving's hearty bai ging. 
 
 Whilst valiant Lee, with courage wild, 
 
 Most bravely did oppose 
 The tears of woman and of child, 
 
 Who begg'd he'd leave the cows. 
 But Wayne, of sympathizing heart, 
 
 Required a relief, 
 Not all the blessii gs could impart 
 
 Of battle or of beef. 
 For now a prey to female charms, 
 
 His soul took more delight in 
 A lovely hamadryad's^ arms, 
 
 Than driving cows or fighting: 
 
 A nymph, the Refugees had drove 
 
 Far from her native tree, 
 Just happen'd to be on the move, 
 
 When up came Wayne and Lee. 
 She in mad Anthony's fierce eye 
 
 The hero saw poitray'd, 
 And all in tears she took him by 
 
 The biidle of his jade.ij 
 
 Hear, said the nymph, great commander! 
 
 No human lamentations; 
 The trees you see them cutting yonder, 
 
 Are all my near relations. 
 
 And I, forlorn ! implore thine aid, 
 
 To free the sacred grove : 
 So shall thy prowess be repaid 
 
 With an immortal's love. 
 
 * A disorder prevalent in the Rebel lines. The merit of 
 these lines, which is doubtless very great, can only be felt by 
 true Connoisseurs, conversant in ancient song. 
 
 t Who kept a dram shop. 
 
 ±A Deity of 1 he woods. 
 
 § A New -Lnglaud name for a horse, mare or gelding. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 459 
 
 Now some, to prove she was a goddess ! 
 
 Said this enchanting fair 
 Had late retired from the Bodies* 
 
 In all the pomp of war. 
 That drums and merry fifes had play'd 
 
 To honour her retreat, 
 And Cunninghamf himself convey'd 
 
 The lady thro' the street. 
 
 Great Wayne, by soft compassion sway'd, 
 
 To no inquiry sloops, 
 But takes the fair afflicted maid 
 
 Right into Yan Van Poop's. 
 
 So Roman Anthony, they say, 
 
 Disgraced th' imperial banner, 
 And for a gipsy lost a day, 
 
 Like Anthony the tanner. 
 
 The hamadryad had but half 
 Received redress from Wayne, 
 
 When drums and colours, cow and calf, 
 Came down the road amain. 
 
 All in a cloud of dust were seen 
 The sheep, the horse, the goat, 
 
 The gentle heifer, ass obscene, 
 The yearling and the shoat 
 
 And pack-horses with fowls came by, 
 
 Bet'eathered on each side, 
 Like Pegasus, the horse that I 
 
 And other poets ride. 
 
 Sublime upon his stirrups rose 
 
 The mighty Lee behind. 
 And drove the terrour-smitten cows, 
 
 Like chaff before the wind. 
 
 But sudden see the woods above 
 
 Pour down Mfriother corps, 
 All belter skelter in a drove, 
 
 Like that I sung before. 
 
 Irving and terrour in the van, 
 
 Came flying all abroad, 
 And cannon, colours, horse, and man, 
 
 Ran tumbling to the road. 
 
 Still as he fled, 'twas Irving's cry, 
 
 And his example too, 
 'Run on, my merry men all — for why?" 
 \ The shot will not go thro'. 
 
 As when two kennels in the street, 
 
 Swell'd with a recent rain, 
 In gushing streams together meet, 
 
 And seek the neighbouring drain. 
 
 So met these dung-born tribes in one, 
 
 As swift in their career, 
 And so to Newbridge they ran on — 
 
 But all the cows got clear. 
 
 Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder, 
 
 Saw the returning train, 
 And mouruM to Wayne the lack of plunder, 
 
 For them to steal again. 
 
 For 'twas his right to seize the spoil, and 
 To share with each commander, 
 
 As he had done at Stateu Island 
 With frostbit Alexander. 8 
 
 * A cant appellation given among the soldiery to the corps 
 that have the honour to gnftTd his majesty's person. 
 
 + Provost-Marshal of New York.' who attended the drum- 
 ming of her out of the regiment and city. 
 
 X Five Refugees ('tis true) were found 
 Stiff on the block-house floor, 
 But th'-n 'tis thought the shot went round, 
 And in at the back-door. 
 S Earl of Stirling. 
 
 In his dismay the frantic priest* 
 
 Began to grow prophetic, 
 You'd swore, to see his lab' ring breast, 
 
 He'd taken an emetic. 
 I view a future day, said he, 
 
 Brighter than this day dark is, 
 And you shall see what yon shall see 
 
 Ha! ha I one pretty Marquis ;f 
 
 And he shall come to Paulue-Hoot, 
 
 And great achievements think on, 
 And make a bow and take a look, 
 
 Like Satan over Lincoln. 
 And all the land around shall glory 
 
 To see the Frenchmen caper, 
 And pretty Susan tell the story 
 
 In the next Chatham paper. 
 
 This solemn prophecy, of course, 
 
 Gave all much consolation, 
 Except to Wayne, who lost his horse 
 
 Upon the great occasion. 
 
 His horse that carried all his prog, 
 
 His military speeches, 
 His corn-stalk whiskey for his grog, 
 
 Blue stockings and brown breeches. 
 
 And now I've closed my epic strain, 
 
 I tremble as I show it. 
 Lest this same warrior-drover, Wayne, 
 
 Should ever catch the poet. 
 
 The gallant act of Andre's captors could not 
 fail of calling forth a ballad: — 
 
 BRAVE PAULDING AND THE SPY. 
 
 Come, all you brave Americans, and unto me give 
 
 ear, 
 And I'll sing you a ditty that will make your hearts 
 
 cheer, 
 Concerning a young gentleman whose age was 
 
 twenty-two ; 
 He fought for North America; his heart was just 
 
 and true. 
 
 They took him from his dwelling-place, and they 
 
 did him confine, 
 They cast him into prison, and kept him for a time: 
 But he with resolution resolved not lung to stay; 
 He set himself at liberty, and soon he ran away. 
 
 He with a scouting-party ran down to Tarrytown, 
 
 Where he met a British officer, a man of high re- 
 nown : 
 
 He says to those young gentlemen, " You're of the 
 British cheer, 
 
 I trust that you can tell me now if there's any dan- 
 ger here." 
 
 Then up stepp'd this young gentleman, John Paul- 
 ding was his name ; 
 
 " Come, tell me where you're going to, also from 
 whence you came." 
 
 " I bear the British flag, sir ; I've a pass to go this 
 
 I'm on an expedition, and have no time to stay." 
 
 Then up stepp'd those young gentlemen, and bid 
 
 him to dismount; 
 " Come tell us where. you're going to, give us a strict 
 
 account ; 
 For we are now resolved that you shall ne'er pass 
 
 by." 
 
 On strict examination, they found out he was a spy. 
 
 * Caldwell, a minister at "Elizabethtown, appointed Quarter- 
 Mastcr-General to the rebel army. 
 
 t Lafayette, a French coxcomb in the rebel service. — Note, 
 London ed., 1781. 
 
460 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 He begged for his liberty, he plead for his discharge, 
 And oftentimes he told them, if they'd set him at 
 
 large, 
 "Here's all the gold and silver I have laid up in 
 
 store, 
 But when I get down to New York I'll give you 
 
 ten times more." 
 
 " I scorn your gold and silver, I've enough laid up 
 
 in store, 
 And when that is all spent and gone, I'll freely fight 
 
 for more ; 
 So you may take your sword in hand and gain your 
 
 liberty, 
 And if that you do conquer me, 0, then you shall 
 
 go free." 
 
 " The time it is improper our valour for to try, 
 For if we take our swords in hand, then one of us 
 
 must die; 
 I am a man of honour, with courage brave and bold, 
 I fear not the face of clay, although it's clothed in 
 
 gold." 
 
 He saw that his conspiracy would soon be brought 
 
 to light ; 
 He begg'd for pen and paper, and asked leave to 
 
 write 
 A line to General Arnold, to let him know his fate, 
 And begg'd for his assistance ; but alas, it was too 
 
 late. 
 
 When the news it came to Arnold, it put him in a 
 
 fret ; 
 He walk'd the room in trouble, till tears his cheeks 
 
 did wet ; 
 The news it went throughout the camp, likewise 
 
 throughout the fort; 
 He called for the Vulture, and sailed for New York. 
 
 Now Arnold to New York has gone, a fighting for 
 
 his kii g, 
 And left poor Major Andre, on the gallows for to 
 
 swing; 
 When he was executed, he look'd both meek and 
 
 mild, 
 He look'd on his spectators, and pleasantly did 
 
 smile. 
 
 It moved each eye with pity, caused every heart to 
 
 bleed ; 
 And ever}' one wish'd him released, and had Arnold 
 
 in his stead. 
 He was a man of honour, in Britain he was born ; 
 To die upon the gallows most highly he did scorn. 
 
 Here's health unto John Paulding ! so let your 
 voices sound, 
 
 Fill up your flowing glasses, and drink his health 
 around ; 
 
 Also to those young gentlemen who bore him com- 
 pany ; 
 
 Success to North America, ye sons of liberty I 
 
 The territory of the present state of Vermont 
 was for some time a contested possession between 
 New York and New Hampshire, the former 
 colony claiming sixty townships, grants of which 
 had been given by the latter. The occupants of 
 the soil were inclined to set up for themselves, 
 and, in 1777, declared their independence. New 
 York would not give up her claim, New Hamp- 
 shire insisted on her demands, while the third 
 neighbor, Massachusetts, asserted a right to two 
 thirds of the territory in dispute. It was during 
 the height of the discussion, in 1779, when words 
 were expected to speedily lead to blows, that the 
 following spirited verses appeared. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE VEEMONTER8, 1779. 
 
 Ho — all to the borders ! Vermonters, come down, 
 With your breeches of deer-skin, and jackets of 
 
 brown ; 
 With your red woolen caps, and your moccasins, 
 
 come, 
 To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum. 
 
 Come down with your rifles! — let grey wolf and fox 
 Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks ; 
 Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall ; 
 Here's a two-legged game for your powder and ball. 
 
 On our South come the Dutchmen, enveloped in 
 
 grease ; 
 And, arrniLg for battle, while canting of peace ; 
 On our East, crafty Meshech* has gathered his band 
 To hang up our leaders, and eat out our land. 
 
 Ho — all to the rescue ! For Satan shall work 
 No gain for his legions of Hampshire and York ! 
 They claim our possessions, — the pitiful knaves, — 
 The tribute we pay, shall be prisons and graves 1 
 Let Clinton and Ten Broek.f with bribes in their 
 
 hands, 
 Still seek to divide us, and parcel our lands ; — 
 We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are ; 
 The warp is of feathers — the filling of tar ! 
 
 Does the " old bay State" threaten ? Does Congress 
 
 complain ? 
 Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again ? 
 Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake ? 
 Let 'em come ; — what they can, they are welcome 
 
 to take. 
 What seek they among us ? The pride of our 
 
 wealth 
 Is comfort, contentment, and labour and health, 
 And lands which, as Freemen, we only have trod, 
 Independent of all, save the mercies of God. 
 
 Yet we owe no allegiance ; we bow to no throne; 
 
 Our ruler is law, and the law is our own ; 
 
 Our leaders themselves are our own fel!ow-men, 
 
 Who can handle the sword, or the scythe, or the 
 pen. 
 
 Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair, 
 
 With their blue eyes of smiles, and their light flow- 
 ing hair ; 
 
 All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall, 
 
 Then blithe at the sleigh-ride, the husking, and 
 ball! 
 
 We've sheep on the hill sides ; we've cows on the 
 plain ; 
 
 And gay-tasseled corn-fields, and rank-growing 
 grain ; 
 
 There are deer on the mountains ; and wood-pigeons 
 
 fl y 
 
 From the crack of our muskets, like clouds on the 
 
 sky. 
 And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which 
 
 take 
 Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed 
 
 lake ; 
 Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps 
 
 free, 
 And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea. 
 
 Like a sun-beam the pickerel glides through his 
 
 pool ; 
 And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is 
 
 cool ; 
 
 * Hon. Mesbech Weare, Governor of New Hampshire, 
 t Governor Clinton of New York, and Hon. A. Ten Broek, 
 President of the New York Convention. 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 461 
 
 Or darts from his shelter of rock and of root 
 At the beaver's quick plunge, or the angler's pur- 
 suit 
 
 And ours are the mountains, which awfully rise 
 'Till they rest their green heads on the blue of the 
 
 skies ; 
 And ours are the forests unwasted, unshorn, 
 Save where the wild path of the tempest is torn. 
 
 And though savage and wild be this climate of ours, 
 And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers, 
 Far dearer the blast round our mountains which 
 
 raves, 
 Than the sweet summer zephyr, which breathes 
 
 over slaves. 
 
 Hurra for Vermont ! for the land which we till 
 Must have sons to defend her from valley and hill ; 
 Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it 
 
 grows, 
 And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes. 
 
 From far Miehiscoui's wild valley, to where 
 Poosoomsuck steals down from his wood-circled 
 
 lair, 
 From Shocticook river to Lutterlock town, — ■ 
 Ho — all to the rescue ! Vermonters, come down. 
 
 Come York or come Hampshire, — come traitors and 
 
 knaves 
 If ye rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our 
 
 graven; 
 Our vow is recorded — our banner unfurled; 
 In the name of Vermont we defy all the world ! 
 
 In Rivington's Royal Gazette of March 2-t, 
 1781, we tind the i'ollo wing advertisement : — 
 
 This day are published, price six shillings, neatly 
 printed, Cow Chace. Complete in three cantos. 
 Published on occasion of the Rebel General Wayne's 
 attack on the Refugees' Block House, on Friday, July 
 21, 1780. With the American Times. In which 
 are delineated the Characters of the Leaders of the 
 American Rebellion. Amongst the principal are, 
 Franklin, Laurens, Adams, Hancock, Jay, Duer, 
 Duaue, Wilson, Pulaski, Witherspoon, Reed, Mc- 
 Kean, Washington, Robewieau, Chace, &e. &a. &a. 
 Also, Yankee Doo lie's Expe lition to Rlio le Island ; 
 and a Lampoon, or the Bloodless Encounter between 
 the Generals Howe and James Gadsden. 
 
 We are enabled to furnish our readers with a 
 specimen of the leading poem in this collection, 
 from the copy in the valuable American Library 
 of Col. Peter Force of Washington. It appears, 
 from the following earlier and fuller announce- 
 ment of the title, to have been published in 
 England,* and may have been written in that 
 country. 
 
 " On Saturday morning next will be published, 
 price 2s., The American Times, a Satire in three 
 parts. In winch are delineated the characters of 
 the leaders of the American Rebellion. Amongst 
 the principal are, Franklin, eic. (as already given). 
 By Camillo Querno, Poet Laureate to the Con- 
 gress. Facitiudignatio versum — Juvenal. Print- 
 ed for the author, and sold by William Richard- 
 son, opposite Salisbury street, in the Strand, 
 1780." 
 
 We extract the "characters" of Robert and 
 Gouvorneur Morris. 
 
 * The advertisement forms partof the Upcott Cuttings. No 
 Indication is given of the title of the paper from which it is 
 taken. 
 
 What spectre's that with eyes on earth intent, 
 Whose God is gold, whose glory's cent, per cent., 
 Whose soul, devoted to the love of gain, 
 Revolts from feelings noble and humane ? 
 Let friends, let family, let country groan, 
 Despairing widows shriek, or orphans moan ; 
 Turned to the centre where his riches grow, 
 His eye regards not spectacles of woe. 
 Morns, look up, for so thy name we spell — 
 Ou earth Bob Morris, Mammon 'tis in hell, 
 Wretch, thou hast meanly sold thy native land ; 
 Tremble, thou wretch, for vengeance is at hand. 
 Soou shall thy treasure fly on eagle's wings, 
 And conscience goad thee with her thousand stings. 
 
 Of head erect and self-sufficient mien, 
 Another Morris presses to be seen. 
 Demons of vanity, you know him sure, 
 This is your pupil — this is Gouverneur ! 
 Some little knowledge, with some little sense, 
 More affectation far, and more pretence ; — 
 Such is the man ; his tongue he never baulks; 
 On all things talkable he boldly talks; 
 A specious orator, of law he prates, 
 A pompous nothing, mingles in debates; 
 Consummate impudence, sheer brass of soul, 
 Crowns every sentence, and completes the whole. 
 In other times unnoticed he might drop, 
 These times can make a statesman of a fop. 
 
 The spirited resumi of many of the events of the 
 war, entitled American Taxation, was written by 
 Samuel St. John, who was born and died in New 
 Canaan, Conn. He was on one occasion, in 1781, 
 carried off with others from Middlesex (now 
 Darien) across the Sound to Oyster Bay, and 
 thence to the Provost, New York. They were 
 imprisoned eighteen days and then exchanged. 
 St. John wrote an account of the affair in verse, 
 from which we extract a passage. 
 
 In boats the ferry soon we passed, 
 
 And at New York arrived at last. 
 
 As through the streets we passed along, 
 
 Ten thousand curses round us rung ; 
 
 But some would laugh, and some would sneer, 
 
 And some would grin, and some would leer; 
 
 A mixed mob, a medley crew, 
 
 I guess, as e'er the devil knew. 
 
 To the Provost we then were hauled, 
 
 Though we, of war, were prisoners called ; 
 
 Our irons now were ordered off, 
 
 The standers-by would swear and scoff. 
 
 But ! what company we found ; 
 
 With great surprise we looked around 1 
 
 I must conclude that in this place, 
 
 We found the worst of Adam's race : 
 
 Thieves, murderers, and pickpockets too. 
 
 And everything that's bad they'd do, 
 
 One of our men found to his cost, 
 
 Three pounds, York money, he had lost. 
 
 His pocket picked, I guess, before 
 
 We had been there one single hour. 
 
 AMERICAN TAXATION. 
 
 While I relate my story, Americans give ear; 
 Of Britain's fading glory, you presently shall hear, 
 I'll give you a true relation, attend to what I say, 
 Concerning the taxation of North America. 
 
 The cruel lords of Britain, who glory in their shame, 
 The project they have lit on they joyfully proclaim ; 
 'Tis what they're striving after, our rights to take 
 
 away, 
 And rob us of our charter in North America. 
 
462 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 There are two mighty speakers, who rule in Parlia- 
 ment, 
 
 Who always have been seeking some mischief to 
 invent, 
 
 'Twas North, and Bute, his father, this horrid plan 
 did lay, 
 
 A mighty tax to gather in North America, 
 
 He senrch'd the gloomy regions of the infernal pit, 
 To find among tiiose legions one who excell'd in wit, 
 To ask of him assistance, or tell them how they may 
 Subdue without resistance this North America. 
 
 Old Satan, the arch traitor, resolved a voyage to 
 
 take, 
 Who rules sole navigator on the burning lake ; 
 For the Britannic ocean he launches far away, 
 To land he had no notion in North America. 
 
 He takes his seat in Britain, it was his soul's intent, 
 Great George's throne to sit on, and rule the Parlia- 
 ment, 
 His comrades were pursuing a diabolic way, 
 For to complete the ruin of North America. 
 
 He tried the art of magic to bring his schemes 
 
 about, 
 At lei.gth the gloomy project he artfully found out; 
 The plan was long indulged in a clandestine way, 
 But lately Was divulged in North America. 
 
 These subtle arch-combiners address'd the British 
 court, 
 
 All three were undersigners of this obscene re- 
 port — 
 
 There is a pleasant landscape that lieth far away, 
 
 Beyond the wide Atlantic in North America. 
 
 There is a wealthy people, who sojourn in that 
 
 laud ; 
 Their churches all with steeples, most delicately 
 
 6tand ; 
 •Their houses, like the gilly, are painted red and 
 
 They flourish like the lily in North America. 
 
 Their land with milk and honey continually doth 
 
 flow, 
 The want of food or money they seldom ever know : 
 They heap up golden treasure, they have no debts 
 
 to pay, 
 They spend their time in pleasure in North America. 
 
 On turkeys, fowls, and fishes most frequently they 
 
 dine, 
 With gold and silver dishes, their tables always 
 
 shine, 
 They crown their feasts with butter, they eat and 
 
 rise to play, 
 In silks their ladies flutter in North America. 
 
 With gold and silver laces, they do themselves 
 adorn, 
 
 The rubies deck their faces, refulgent as the morn ! 
 
 Wine sparkles in their glasses, they spend each hap- 
 py d:iy 
 
 In merriment and dances, in North America, 
 
 Let not our suit affront you, when we address your 
 
 throne, 
 kii g, this wealthy country and subjects are your 
 
 own, 
 And you their rightful sovereign, they truly must 
 
 obey, 
 You have a right to govern this North America 
 
 O king, you've heard the sequel of what we now 
 
 subscribe, 
 Is it not just and equal to tax this wealthy tribe? 
 The question bcii g asked, his majesty did say, 
 My subjects shall be taxed in North America, 
 
 Invested with a warrant, my publicans shall go, 
 The tenth of all their current they surely shall be- 
 stow, 
 If they indulge rebellion, or from my precepts stray, 
 I'll send my war battalion to North America. 
 
 I'll rally all my forces by water and by laud, 
 
 My light dragoons and horses shall go at my com- 
 mand, 
 
 I'll burn both town and city, with smoke becloud 
 the day, 
 
 I'll show no human pity for North America. 
 
 Go on, my hearty soldiers, yon need not fear of ill — 
 There's Hutchinson and Rogers, their functions will 
 
 fulfil— 
 They tell such ample stories, believe them 6ure we 
 
 may, 
 That one half of them are tories in North America. 
 
 My gallant ships are ready to hoist you o'er the 
 
 flood, 
 And in my cause be steady, which is supremely 
 
 good ; 
 Go ravage, steal, and plunder, and you shall have 
 
 the prey ; 
 They quickly will knock under in North America. 
 
 The laws I have enacted, I never will revoke, 
 Although they are neglected, my fury to provoke, 
 I will forbear to flatter, I'll rule with mighty sway; 
 I'll take away the charter from North Auieriea. 
 
 George ! you are distracted, bv sail experience 
 
 find 
 The laws you have enacted are of the blackest 
 
 kind. 
 I'll make a short digression, and tell you by the 
 
 way, 
 We fear not your oppression in North America. 
 
 Our fathers were distressed, while in their native 
 
 laud ; 
 By tyrants were oppressed, as I do understand ; 
 For freedom and religion they were resolved to 
 
 stray, 
 And try the desert regions of North America. 
 
 Heaven was their protector while on the roaring 
 
 tide, 
 Kind fortune their director, and providence their 
 
 guide ; 
 If I am not mistaken, about the first of May, 
 Tins voyage was undertaken for North America. 
 
 To sail they were commanded, about the hour of 
 
 noon, 
 At Plymouth shore they landed, the twenty-first of 
 
 June; 
 The savages were nettled, with fear they fled away, 
 And peaceably they settled in North America. 
 
 We are their bold descendants, for liberty we'll 
 
 fight, 
 The claim to independence we challenge as our 
 
 right, 
 Tis what kind heaven gave us, who can take away? 
 Kind heaven, too, will save us in North America. 
 
 We never will knock under, George, we do not 
 
 fear 
 The rattling of your thunder, nor lightning of your 
 
 spear : 
 Though rebels you declare us, we're strangers to 
 
 dismay ; 
 Therefore you can't scare us in North America. 
 
 To what you have commanded, we never will eon- 
 sent ; 
 
 Although your troops are landed upon the conti- 
 nent ; 
 
BALLAD LITERATURE. 
 
 403 
 
 We'll take our swords and muskets, and march in 
 
 bright array, 
 And drive the British rustics from North America. 
 
 We have a bold commander who fears not sword 
 
 nor gun, 
 The second Alexander, his name is Washington, 
 His men are all collected, and ready for the fray, 
 To fight they are directed for North America. 
 
 We've Green, Gates, and Putnam, to manage in the 
 
 field, 
 A gallant train of footmen, who'd rather die than 
 
 yield; 
 A stately troop of horses train'd in a martial way, 
 For to augment our forces in North America. 
 
 Proud George, you are engaged all in a dirty cause, 
 A cruel war hath raged repugnant to all laws, 
 Go tell the savage nations you're crueller than they, 
 To fight your own relations in North America. 
 
 Ten millions you've expended, and twice ten mil- 
 lions more, 
 
 Our riches you intended should pay the mighty 
 score, 
 
 Who now will stand your sponsor, your charges to 
 defray, 
 
 For sure you cannot conquer this North America? 
 
 I'll tell you, George, in metre, if you attend awhile, 
 We forced your Sir Peter from Sullivan's fair isle ; 
 At Monmouth too we gained the honours of the 
 
 day— 
 The victory we obtained for North America. 
 
 Surely we were your betters, hard by the Brandy- 
 wine ; 
 
 We laid him fast in fetters, whose name was John 
 B'irgoyne, 
 
 We made your Howe to tremble with terror and 
 dismay, 
 
 True heroes we resemble in North America. 
 
 Confusion to the tm'ies, that black infernal name, 
 In which Great Britain glories, for ever to her 
 
 shame ; 
 We'll send each foul revolter to smutty Africa, 
 Or noose him in a halter in North America. 
 
 A healrh to our brave footmen, who handle sword 
 and gun, 
 
 To Greene, Gates, and Putnam, and conquering 
 Washington; 
 
 Their names be wrote in letters which never shall 
 decay 
 
 While sun and moon doth glitter in North America. 
 
 Success unto our allies in Holland, France, and 
 Spain, 
 
 Who man their ships and gallies, our freedom to 
 maintain, 
 
 May they subdue the rangers of proud Britannia, 
 
 And drive them from their anchor in North Ame- 
 rica. 
 
 Success unto the Congress of these United States, 
 Who glory in the conquest of Washington and 
 
 Gates ; 
 To all, both land and seamen, who glory in the 
 
 day, 
 When we shall all be freemen in North America. 
 
 Success to the legislation that rules with gentle 
 
 hand, 
 To trade and navigation, by water and by land ; 
 May all with one opinion our wholesome laws obey. 
 Throughout this vast dominion of North Amarip.ii, 
 
 YANKEE DOODLE. 
 
 The tune of Yankee Doodle is said to have been 
 composed by a Dr. Skackburg, attacked to tke 
 
 British Army, in 1755, when the (roops of the 
 northern colonies inarched into Albany, prepara- 
 tory to the attack on the French posts of Niagara 
 and Frontemic. The habiliments of these recruits 
 presented a strange contrast to the orderly ap- 
 pointments of the English soldiery, and the music 
 to which they marched was as antiquated and outre 
 as their uniforms. Sliackburg, who possessed 
 some musical knowledge, composed a tune for 
 the new-comers, which lie told them was one of 
 the most celebrated of those in use by the army. 
 To the great amusement of the British, the pro- 
 vincials accepted the gift, and " Yankee Doodle " 
 became very popular among them. 
 
 The tune was not original with Sliackburg, as 
 it has been traced back to the time of Charles I., 
 in England. In the reign of his son we find it an 
 accompaniment to a little song on a famous lady 
 of easy virtue of that date, which has been per- 
 petuated as a nursery rhyme — 
 
 Lucy Locket lo*t her pocket, 
 
 Kitty Fisher found it ; 
 Nothing in it, nothing in it, 
 
 But the binding round it. 
 
 A little later we have the first appearance of 
 that redoubtable personage Yankee Doodle. He 
 seems even at that early stage of his career to 
 have shown his characteristic trait of making the 
 most of himself — 
 
 Yankee Doodle came to town, 
 
 Upon a Kentish pony ; 
 He stuck a feather in his hat, 
 
 And called him Macaroni. 
 
 It is not impossible, however, that Yankee 
 Doodle may be from Holland. A song in use 
 among the laborers, who in the time of harvest 
 migrate from Germany to the Low Countries, 
 where they receive for their work as much butter- 
 milk as they can drink and a tenth of the grain 
 secured by their exertions, has this burden — 
 
 Yanker didel, doodel down 
 
 Didel, dudel lauter, 
 Yanke viver, voover vown, 
 
 Botermilk uud Tanther. 
 
 That is, buttermilk and a tenth. 
 
 This song our informant has heard repeated 
 by a native of that country, who had often lis- 
 tened to it at harvest time in his youth. 
 
 The precise date when 
 
 Father and I went down to camp — 
 
 cannot, we fear, be fixed with accuracy; hut as 
 the tune was sung at Bunker Hill, may be as- 
 sumed to have been in 1775. 
 
 Our copy of the words is from a broadside in 
 a collection of " Songs, Ballads, &c, purchased 
 from a ballad printer and seller in Boston in 
 1813," made by Isaiah Thomas. The variations 
 and additional stanzas in the notes are from 
 a version given in Fanner and Moore's Historical 
 Collections of New Hampshire, iii. 157. 
 
 the Yankee's return from camp. 
 Father and I went down to camp, 
 
 Along with Captain Gooding, 
 And there we see the men and boys, 
 
 A3 thick as hasty pudding. 
 
464 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Chorus — Yankee Doodle, keep it up, 
 Yankee Doodle, dandy, 
 Mind the music aud the step, 
 And with the girls be handy. 
 
 And there we see a thousand men, 
 
 As rich as 'Squire David ; 
 And what they wasted every day, 
 
 I wish it could be saved. 
 
 The 'lasses they eat every day, 
 Would keep an house a winter; 
 
 They have as much that, I'll be bound, 
 They eat it when they're a mind to. 
 
 And there we see a swamping gun, 
 
 Large as a log of maple, 
 Upon a deuced little cart, 
 
 A load for father's cattle. 
 
 And every time they shoot it off, 
 
 It takes a horn of powder, 
 And makes a noise like father's gun, 
 
 Only a nation louder. 
 
 I went as nigh to one myself, 
 
 As Siah's underpinning ; 
 And father went as nigli again, 
 
 I thought the deuce was in him. 
 
 Cousin Simon grew so bold, 
 
 I thought he would have cock'd it ; 
 
 It scar'd me so, I shrink'd it off, 
 And hung by father's pocket. 
 
 And Captain Davis had a gun, 
 
 He kind of clapt his hand on't, 
 And stuck a crooked stabbing iron 
 
 Upon the little end on't. 
 
 And there I see a pumpkin shell 
 
 As big as mother's bason ; 
 And every time they touch'd it off, 
 
 They scamper'd like the nation. 
 
 I see a little barrel too, 
 
 The heads were made of leather, 
 They kuoek'd upon't with little clubs, 
 
 And call'd the folks together. 
 
 And there was Captain Washington,* 
 
 And gentlefolks about him, 
 They say he's grown so tarnal proud, 
 
 He will not ride without 'em. 
 
 He got him on his meeting clothes, 
 
 Upon a slapping stallion, 
 He set the world along in rows, 
 
 In hundreds and in millions. 
 
 * There was Captain Washington, 
 Upon a slapping stallion, 
 A giving orders to his men — 
 I guess there was a million. 
 
 And then the feathers on his hat, 
 They look d so tarnal fina, 
 
 I wasted pockily to get 
 To give to my Jemima. 
 
 And there they'd fife away lite fun, 
 And play on cornstalk fiddles, 
 
 And some had ribbons red as blood, 
 All wound about their middles. 
 
 The troopers, too, would gallop up, 
 And fire right in our faces ; 
 
 It scar'd me almost half to death, 
 To see them run such races. 
 
 Old Uncle Bam come there to change 
 Some paDCakes and some onions, 
 
 For 'lasses-cakes, to carry home 
 To give his wife and young ones. 
 
 But I can't tell you half I see. 
 They kept up such a smother; 
 
 So I took my hat off, made a bow, 
 And scamper'd home to mother. 
 
 The flaming ribbons in his hat, 
 
 They look'd so taring fine ah, 
 I wanted poekity to get, 
 
 To give to my Jemimah. 
 
 I see another snarl of men 
 
 A digging graves, they told me, 
 So tarnal long, so tarnal deep, 
 
 They 'tended they should hold me. 
 It scar'd me so, I hook'd it off, 
 
 Nor stop'd, as I remember, 
 Nor turn'd about, 'till I got home, 
 
 Lock'd up in mother's chamber. 
 
 "WILLIAM CIIAELES WELLS. 
 The pleasant and confiding autobiography pre- 
 fixed to the volume of Miscellanies by Dr. Wells, 
 informs us that he wa< born at Charleston, S. C, 
 in May, 1757. His father and mother were 
 both of Scottish birth, and emigrated to the 
 colony in 1753. By way of preventive to the 
 " disloyal principles which began, immediately 
 after the peace of 1763, to prevail throughout 
 America," his father arrayed the boy in "a tartan 
 coat, and a blue Scotch bonnet ; hoping by these 
 means to make him consider himself a Scotch- 
 man." A more efficacious course to the desired 
 result, was the removal of the son to Scotland, 
 where he was placed at Dumfries school, in his 
 tenth year. In 177'J he was removed to Edin- 
 burgh, and attended several of the lower classes 
 in the Universitj". The next year he returned to 
 Carolina, and remained quietly studying medicine 
 as an apprentice to Dr. Alexander Garden, until 
 " the American rebellion first broke out in New 
 England." Upon this his father, the printer of a 
 newspaper, and an unflinching Royalist, left for 
 England, and was followed three months after by 
 the son. 
 
 From 1775 to 1778 he was employed in the 
 study of his profession at Edinburgh. At the 
 end of that time he obtained the position of a 
 surgeon in a Scotch regiment in the service of 
 Holland. He had not been long in that country 
 before feeling himself aggrieved by the acts of 
 his commanding officer, who twice imprisoned 
 him, he resigned his commission, and the same 
 day challenged his late superior. The opponent 
 immediately arrested him, and transmitted a com- 
 plaint of insubordination to the higher powers. 
 The circumstances of the resignation of his com- 
 mission being made known, he was at once set at 
 liberty. 
 
 In 1780, " Carolina having been conquered by 
 the king's troops," he returned to Charleston to 
 settle his father's business, which had been greatly 
 injured by the war. While thus occupied he 
 wrote an article directed against Americans, who, 
 on being released on parole by the British, took 
 up arms against the mother country. The article 
 was ordered to be frequently printed in the 
 newspapers by the British commander, and its 
 author "thinks it highly probable, that it was 
 owing to this warning, that General Balfour and 
 Lord Moira thought themselves justified in putting 
 to death a Colonel Hayne," one of the most me- 
 morable acts of the southern campaigns. 
 
 On the evacuation of Charleston in 1782, 
 Wells removed to East Florida. Here he remained 
 until the- preliminaries of peace having been 
 signed, he returned, at his father's request, to 
 
ROBERT DIHSMOOE. 
 
 405 
 
 Charleston, under the protection of a flag of 
 truce. On his arrival he was arrested " upon a 
 private suit, growing out of a transaction of his 
 brother's." He refused to give bail, on the ground 
 that doing so would be an admission of the in- 
 validity of the flag as a means of protection 
 against arrest, and was imprisoned. He applied 
 to the English commander in Florida for relief, 
 who after a delay of two months demanded his 
 release. The affair was finally settled by the 
 payment of the claim on which he was arrested, 
 and he immediately after returned to Florida. 
 He was shipwrecked off St. Augustine, but none 
 of the ship's company were lost or injured. In 
 May, 1784, he returned to England, and about 
 midsummer, 1785, "had the name of Br. Wells 
 affixed to the door" of his lodging. He " passed 
 several years almost without taking a single fee," 
 but at last received some aid in the shape of an ap- 
 pointment as one of the physicians to the Fins- 
 bury Dispensary, with a salary of £50 a year. 
 It was ten years before his income from every 
 source amounted to £250. 
 
 During this period he published in 1792, An 
 Essay on Vision; in 1795, a paper in the Philo- 
 sophical Transactions, on the Influence which in- 
 cites the muscles of animals to contract, in Mr. 
 GalvanVs experiments ; in 1797, Experiments on 
 the Colour of the Blood; and in 1811, Experi- 
 ments and Observations on Vision. 
 
 In 1800 he was attacked with a slight fit of 
 apoplexy, the recurrence of which he warded oft', 
 as he supposes, by the adoption of vegetable diet. 
 
 In 1812 he commenced some researches on the 
 subject of Dew. Night exposure, and labor in 
 autumn in this matter, brought on an attack of 
 illness, which his medical friends anticipated 
 would cause his death in a few months. Upon 
 receiving this intelligence, he immediately set 
 about preparing his paper on Dew for publication, 
 as his scattered memoranda would have been of 
 no service to the world after his death. His 
 philanthropic endeavors secured his fame and per- 
 haps his life, for he recovered from his dangerous 
 disease. 
 
 His Essay was published in August, 1814. It 
 at once established the author in the high position 
 as a scientific writer which he has since main- 
 tained, the work having been recently cited by 
 Lyell, in his lectures in this country, as the best 
 authority on its subject. Its style, like that of 
 his other philosophical writings, is marked by its 
 ease and simplicity. 
 
 The restoration to health was but a temporary 
 respite from the attacks of disease to which the 
 closing years of his life were subjected. "His 
 autobiography was dictated by him at intervals," 
 says the editor of his works, "during his illness, 
 after he had lost all hope of recovery, and while 
 he was uncertain whether he should live to finish 
 it, and when he was too feeble to speak long, or 
 to write much." It must be considered a proof 
 of extraordinary composure and vigor of mind 
 in such circumstances. The closing sentence is 
 dated August 28, 1817, and a brief note informs 
 us that their author died on the evening of the 
 18th of September following. 
 
 Dr. Wells's writings, with the exception of a 
 few brief biographical sketches, were all on medi- 
 cal and scientific topics. A volume of his works, 
 
 vol. i. — 30 
 
 Containing Essays on Vision and Dew, was pub- 
 lished in London in 1816. 
 
 ROBEET DINSMOOE. 
 
 In 1828 was published at Haverhill, Mass., a vo- 
 lume entitled, Incidental Poems, accompanied 
 with Letters, and a few select Pieces, mostly ori- 
 ginal, for their illustration, together with a Pre- 
 face and Sketch of the Author's Life, by Robert 
 Dinsmoor, the " Rustic Bard." This was a wri- 
 ter of originality, who penned verses in the Scot- 
 tish dialect and good Saxon English on occasional 
 topics, arising from personal incidents, the corre- 
 spondence of his friends, or his own emotions. 
 What he found worth living for he considered 
 good enough to write about, and set it down with 
 skill and simplicity. He belonged to a family of 
 Scotch Presbyterians, who had settled in the north 
 of Ireland, and had emigrated to America at the 
 beginning of the eighteenth century. He was 
 born at Windham in New Hampshire, October 
 7, 1757. His father (something of a rhymer too 
 in his day) was a soldier in the old French war. 
 The son followed the example, and at twenty 
 was at the battle of Saratoga, Returning he be- 
 came a farmer at Windham, and a zealous Pres- 
 byterian, passing his long life among the staunch 
 old settlers of Londonderry* The bard's early 
 education was of the scantiest, picked up at the 
 village school from Master Sauce, an old British 
 soldier, and a Master McKeen, " a man of pro- 
 found erudition, but very dilatory in attending, 
 who if he took in hand to catch a squirrel by the 
 way, would do it if it took him half the fore- 
 noon,"! from whom he learned reading and writ- 
 ing. His poetry seems to have come by nature 
 and the reading of Robert Burns. It had its 
 sentiment and its Doric humor, which did not 
 disdain very homely realities, as in the account 
 of his illness, of which the reader will be satisfied 
 on the production of a single stanza : — 
 
 With senna, salts, and castor oil, 
 
 They dreneh'd me every little while; 
 The strong disease such power could foil, 
 To yield full loth, 
 At length we found the foe recoil, 
 At the hot-bath. 
 
 ^l^^'^/' 
 
 Whittier has described his old age in a genial 
 picture of the man and his writings : — " The last 
 time I saw him he was chaffering in the market- 
 place of my native village (Haverhill), swapping 
 potatoes, and onions, and pumpkins, for tea, cof- 
 fee, molasses, and, if the truth be told, New Eng- 
 land rum. Three-score years and ten, to use his 
 own words — 
 
 Hung o'er his back, 
 And bent him like a muckle pack. 
 
 Yet he still stood stoutly and sturdily in his thick 
 shoes of cowhide, like one accustomed to tread 
 
 * For some interesting memorials of this settlement. The 
 History of Londonderry, by the Rev. Edward L. Parker, pub- 
 lished in Boston in 1861, niav be consulted. 
 
 t Life of the Author, written b>' himself, in a letter to Silas 
 Betton, Esq., of Salem, N. H. 
 
4:66 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LTEERATUEE 
 
 independently the soil of his own acres — his 
 broad, honest face, seamed by care, and darkened 
 by exposure to ' all the airts that blow,' and his 
 white hair flowing in patriarchal glory beneath 
 his felt hat. A genial, jovial, large-hearted old 
 man, simple as a child, and betraying, neither in 
 look nor manner, that he was accustomed to 
 
 Feed on thoughts which voluntary move 
 Harmonious numbers 
 
 " Peace to him. In the ancient burial-ground 
 of Windham, by the side of his ' beloved Molly,' 
 and in view of the old meeting-house, there is a 
 mound of earth, where, every spring, green grasses 
 tremble in the wind, and the warm sunshine calls 
 out the flowers. There, gathered like one of his 
 own ripe sheaves, the farmer-poet sleeps with his 
 fathers."* 
 
 BKTP"9 LAST ADVICE. 
 
 Written in lite seventeenth year of the author's age. on his fa- 
 ther's favorite old dvg, who had survived his lhtji year. It 
 was sent with the following note to William Dirmnoor,the 
 bard's uncle, who had requested a copy of it. 
 
 At your request, kind sir, I send it, 
 Skip's last advice — I long since penn'd it. 
 
 In honor to his name. 
 He was a dog of noble spirit, 
 Possessing talents, worth, and merit, 
 
 And died in honest fame. 
 The rational creation may 
 
 Learn wisdom from the brute — 
 Profound instruction they convey, 
 
 Sometimes in language mute. 
 Take heed thou, and read thou 
 
 This moral from my page, 
 And see now, with me now, 
 
 A base degenerate age. 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 This poor auld dog liv'd mony a year, 
 
 But now he did begin to fear 
 
 That death about the doors was creepin', 
 
 To whip him off when he was sleepin' ; 
 
 For now he was b.iith deaf an' dumb, 
 
 An' cou'dna hear when death wad come. 
 
 When he was young, b.'lith spry an' nimble, 
 
 The fear o' beasts ne'er made him tremble; 
 
 He try'd to keep the corn fiae bears, 
 
 An' help'd us aye to sing our prayeis; 
 
 But now his teeth were a' worn out, 
 
 An' him grown weak instead of stout, 
 
 He cou'dna sing he was sae weak, 
 
 An' I took pity for his sake. 
 
 He turn'd his een to me inviting, 
 
 An' sign'd to me to do Ins writing; 
 
 I took the hint, an' gat my pen, 
 
 But what to write I knew not then. 
 
 I by acquaintance knew him well, 
 
 An' by his looks his thoughts could tell, 
 
 What he advis'd, I to befriend 'im, 
 
 In Scottish rhyme have rightly penn'd 'em — 
 
 From those who want to hear these lines, 
 
 I crave th' attention o' their minds: — 
 
 Tent weel ! for 'tis Skip's last advice ! 
 He warns ye a' now to be wise ; 
 Take heed, for he'll no tell you't twice, 
 
 For now he's gawin' 
 To lea' the filthy fleas an' lice, 
 
 That us'd to gnaw 'im. 
 
 * Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, p. 803. 
 
 After breakfast he lay down ; 
 Quoth he, " I fear I shall die soon, 
 Because I carina sing my tune, 
 
 I us'd to sing, 
 Till a' the hills an' vallies round 
 
 Like bells wad ring. 
 
 Hear me a' sizes o' my kind, 
 
 Baith young an' auld, keep this in mind, 
 
 An' hearken to wdiat I've design'd 
 
 Now to advise ye : 
 Be guid, an' they'll be hard to find, 
 
 That will despise ye. 
 
 Do a' you're able for your bluid, 
 And forward a' your masters' guid — 
 You ought to do 't since you're allow'd 
 
 To serve mankind ; 
 The best that e'er on four feet stood, 
 
 This law shall find. 
 
 Let generations yet to breed, 
 
 Keep mind 'o this, when we are dead! 
 
 I'm gaun the gate alack wi' speed, 
 
 0' a' the earth ! 
 Wow ! but they're simpletons indeed 
 
 Wha live in mirth. 
 
 Don't you like those your guid time spend, 
 But aye think on your latter end ; 
 If you've done ill, try to amend, 
 
 An' gi'e aye praise, 
 An' thank the Ane wha did you send 
 
 Sae mony days. 
 
 Though like a lord man o'er 
 
 An' bang ye round wi' chairs an stools 
 
 An' bruise ye wi' the auld pot bails, 
 
 Mind not their powers — 
 Their bodies maun gang to the niools, 
 
 As weel as ours. 
 
 Now ere I quat, I'll ask ye a', 
 If deacons this a fau't can ea', 
 An' for the same hoist me awa' 
 
 Unto the Session, 
 An' gar me satisfy their law 
 
 For my transgression? 
 
 Gif ye say na then, I'll believ' it, 
 An' never let mysel' be griev't, 
 Nor o' my rest at night be reav't, 
 
 Nor be concern'd; 
 But say it is a lesson priev't, 
 
 Aye to be learn'd 
 
 I maun hae done, farewell, adieu! 
 Farewell to master Billy too, 
 I hae na breath to name cnou ; 
 
 Death's come to plunder — 
 He's taken me for ane 1 trow, 
 
 Sae I knock under." 
 
 THE POETS FAREWELL TO TIIE MUSES. 
 I. 
 
 Forbear, my friend, withdraw your plssi. 
 Ask not a song from one like me, 
 
 O'ercast with clouds of sorrow ! 
 My spring of life, and summer's fled, 
 I mourn those darling comforts dead, 
 
 Regardless of to-morrow ! 
 My harp is on the willow hung, 
 
 Nor dissipates the gloom ! 
 My sweetest minstrel's all unstrung, 
 
 And silent as the tomb ! 
 
 My lute too, is mute too, 
 
 While drops the trickling tear! 
 
 My organ makes jargon, 
 
 And grates my wounded ear. 
 
ROBERT DIXSMOOR. 
 
 467 
 
 Farewell, yon mould'ring mansion, there, 
 Where first I drew the natal air, 
 
 And learn'd to prate and plaj'. 
 There rose a little filial band, 
 Beneath kind parents' fostering hand — 
 
 Their names let live for aye! 
 They taught their offspring there to real 
 
 And hymn their Maker's praise, 
 To say their catechism and creed, 
 
 And shun all vicious ways. 
 
 They careful and prayerful, 
 
 Their pious precepts press'd, 
 
 "With ample example 
 
 Their children still were bless'd. 
 
 in. 
 Kind man ! my gunvdinn and my sire, 
 Friend of the muse and poet's lyre, 
 
 With genuine wit and glee, 
 How sweetly did his numbers glide, 
 When all delighted by his side, 
 
 He read his verse to me! 
 The parallel was drawn between 
 
 The freedom we possess'd, 
 And where our fathers long had been 
 
 By lords and bishops press'd. 
 
 His rhyme then did chime then, 
 
 Like music through my heart; 
 
 Desiring, aspiring, 
 
 I strove to gain his art. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No more I'll tune the poet's lyre, 
 No more I'll ask the muses' fire, 
 
 To warm my chilling breast; 
 No more I'll feel the genial flame, 
 Nor seek a poet's deathless fame, 
 
 But silent sink to rest. 
 Farewell, the mount, eall'd Jenny's Hill — 
 
 Ye stately oaks and pines! 
 Farewell, yon pretty purling rill, 
 
 Which from its brow declines, 
 
 Meandering and wandering 
 
 The woodbines sweet among, 
 
 Where pleasure could measure 
 
 The bobyliukorn'e song! 
 
 v. 
 On summer evenings, calm and bright, 
 O'er yonder summit's towering height, 
 
 With pleasure did I roam ; 
 Perhaps to seek the robin's young, 
 Or the mavis' warbling tongue, 
 
 And bring the heifers home — 
 See from my foot, the night-hawk rise, 
 
 And leave her unfledged pair, 
 Then quick descending from the skies, 
 
 Like lightning cut the air. 
 
 The hares there, she scares there, 
 
 And through the pines they trip, 
 
 They're sought then, and caught then, 
 
 By my companion, Skip. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Andover's steeples there were seen, 
 While o'er the vast expanse between, 
 
 I did with wonder gaze ; 
 There, as it were beneath my feet, 
 I view'd my father's pleasant seat — 
 
 My joy in younger days. 
 There Windham Range, in flowery vest, 
 
 Was seen in robes of green, 
 While Gobbet's Pond, from east to west. 
 
 Spread her bright waves between. 
 
 Cows lowing, cocks crowing. 
 
 While frogs on Cobbet's shore, 
 
 Lay croaking and mocking 
 The bull's tremendous roar. 
 
 The fields no more their glories wear, 
 The forests now stand bleak and bare, 
 
 Alt of their foliage stript; 
 The rosy lawn, the flowery mead, 
 Where lambkins used to play and feed, 
 
 By icy fingers nipt. 
 No more I'll hear with ravish'd ears, 
 
 The music of the wood, 
 Sweet scenes of youth, now gone with ye:ir3 
 
 Long pass'd beyond the flood. 
 
 Bereaved and grieved, 
 
 I solitary wail, 
 
 With sighing and crying, 
 
 My drooping spirits fail. 
 
 vni. 
 No more will I the Spring Brook trace, 
 No more with sorrow view the place 
 
 Where Mary's wash-tub stood, 
 No more I'll wander there alone, 
 And lean upon the mossy stone, 
 
 Where once she pil'd her wood. 
 'Twas there she bleached her linen cloth, 
 
 By yonder bass-wood tree ; 
 From that sweet stream she made her broth, 
 
 Her pudding anil her tea, 
 
 Whose rumbling and tumbling 
 
 O'er rocks with quick despatch, 
 
 Made ringing and singing, 
 
 None but her voice could match. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Farewell, sweet scenes of rural life, 
 My faithful friends and loving wife, 
 
 But transient blessings nil. 
 Bereft of those, I sit and mourn ; 
 The spring of life will ne'er return, 
 
 Chill death grasps great and small; 
 I fall before thee, God of truth 1 
 
 O, hear my prayer and cry ; 
 Let me enjoy immortal youth, 
 
 With saints above the sky. 
 
 Thy praise there, I'll raise there. 
 
 With all my heart and soul, 
 
 Where pleasure and treasure, 
 
 In boundless oceans rolL 
 
 THE SPARROW.* 
 
 Poor innocent and hapless Sparrow ! 
 
 Why should my moul-board gie thee sorrow 
 
 This day thou'll chirp, an' mourn the morrow. 
 
 Wi' anxious breast — 
 The plough has turn'd the mould'ring furrow 
 
 Deep o'er thy nest. 
 
 Just in the middle o' the hill. 
 
 Thy nest was plac'd wi' curious skill ; 
 
 There I espy'd thy little bill 
 
 Beneath the shade — 
 In that sweet bower secure frae ill, 
 
 Thine eggs thou laid. 
 
 * Robert Dinsmoor to, Silas Button. 
 
 Mr Bear Sir — I take tlie liberty to address the following 
 poem to you, and 'wish you to correct it and send me your can- 
 did remarks upon it. I will not say criticism, lest it should 
 prevent my ever writing any more. It was occasioned by my 
 crushing a nest of Sparrow's eggs, when ploughing among the 
 corn. July 20, 1612. And about that time, I saw a well-done 
 piece in the Haverhill Intelligencer, in imitation of Burns's 
 delightful Nanny, which induced me to adopt the Scottish dia- 
 lect, that it might the better resemble his beautiful mountain 
 daisy. — I call it The Sparrow. 
 
408 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Five corns o' maize had there been drappit, 
 A.11' through the stalks thine head, thou pappit ; 
 The drawing nowt couldna' be stappit, 
 
 I quickly foun' — 
 Syne frae thy cozie nest thou happit, 
 
 An' fluttering ran. 
 
 The sklentin Btane beguil'd the sheer, 
 In vain I try'd the plough to steer; 
 A wee bit stumpie i' the rear, 
 
 Cam' 'tween my legs — 
 An' to the jee side gart me veer, 
 
 An' crush thine eggs. 
 
 Alas! alas! my bonnie birdie! 
 
 Thy faitlifu' mate flits roun' to guard ye. 
 
 Connubial love! a pattern wordy 
 
 The pious priest! 
 "What savage heart could be sae hardy, 
 
 As wound thy breast ? 
 
 Thy ruin was nae fau't o' mine, 
 (It gars me greet to see thee pine ;) 
 It may be serves his great design, 
 
 Who governs all ; 
 Omniscience tents wi' eyes divine, 
 
 The Sparrow's fall. 
 
 A pair more friendly ne'er were married. 
 Their joys an' pains were equal carried ; 
 But now, ah me ! to grief they're hurried, 
 
 "Without remead ; 
 When all their hope an' treasure's buried 
 
 'Tis sad indeed. 
 
 How much like theirs are human dools 1 
 Their sweet wee bairns laid i' the mools, 
 That sovereign Pow'r who nature rules, 
 
 Has said so be it ; 
 Eut poor bli:i' mortals are sic' fools, 
 
 They canna' see it. 
 
 Nae doubt, that He wha first did mate us, 
 
 Has fixt our lot as sure as fate is, 
 
 And when lie wounds, he disna' hate us, 
 
 But only this — 
 He'll gar the ills that here await us, 
 
 "i'ield lasting bliss. 
 
 Robert Dinsmoor to Den. Isaac Cochran, of Antrim, N. H., his 
 mother's brother, who teas a lii utenant at the taking of Ge- 
 neral Rurgotjne, October 17, 1TT7. A Short Review of that 
 Expedition.* 
 
 My faithful friend, and uncle, kind, 
 
 I would bring some things to your mind, 
 
 Which still impress'd on mine I find, 
 
 By recollection ; 
 That seems my heart with yours to bind, 
 
 In strong affection. 
 
 From my first dawn of life you've known me ; 
 When nature on the world had thrown me, 
 You did a first-born nephew own me, 
 
 Or younger brother ; 
 And friendship ever since have shown me, 
 
 Kind like my mother. 
 
 Childhood and youth, manhood and age, 
 You've been my friend in every stage ; 
 Sometimes in sport, we would engage 
 
 Our nerves to try ; 
 Sometimes, t' explore the music page, 
 
 The genius ply. 
 
 "When British laws would us enthral, 
 Our country for defence did call ; 
 
 * This was not the first campaign they hud been in the war 
 together. 
 
 Then martial fire inspir'd us all, 
 
 To arms we flew ; 
 And as a soldier, stand or fall, 
 
 I went with you I 
 
 O'er western hills we travell'd fj?, 
 Pass'd Saratoga the site of war, 
 Where Burgoyne roll'd his feudal car, 
 
 Down Hudson's strand ; 
 And Gates, our glorious western star, 
 
 Held high command. 
 
 From the green ridge, we glanc'd our eyes, 
 Where village flames illum'd the skies, 
 Destruction there was no surprise, 
 
 On Hudson's shore! 
 Though smoke in burning pillars rise, 
 
 And cannons roar 1 
 
 But to Fort Edward* we were sent, 
 Through icy Barteuskiln we went, 
 And on that plain we pitch'd our tent, 
 
 'Gainst rain and snow ; 
 Our orders there, was to prevent 
 
 The flying foe. 
 
 By counter orders, back we came, 
 And cross'd the Hudson s rapid stream. 
 At Schuyler's Mills, f of no small fame. 
 
 Thence took our post, 
 Near Burgoyne's line, with fixed aim, 
 
 To take his host ! 
 
 With courage bold, we took the field, 
 Our foes no more their swords could wield, 
 God was our strength, and He our shield, 
 
 A present aid ! 
 Proud Burgoyne's army there did yield, 
 
 All captive made ! 
 
 Great Britain's honor there was stain'd, 
 We sang a glorious victory gain'd! 
 From hence our States a rank obtain'd, 
 
 'Mongst nations great ; 
 Our future glory was ordain'd, 
 
 As sure as fate ! 
 
 To Windham, back with joy we turn'd, 
 Where parents dear our absence mour:. d ; 
 And our fair friends in rapture burn'd, 
 
 To see our faces ! 
 Sweet pearly drops their cheeks adorn'd. 
 
 In our embraces ! 
 
 When all our vanquish 'd foes were fled, 
 Love, peace, and harmony were shed, 
 Like oil descending on the head, 
 
 Or milk or wine ; 
 Williams,:): the man of God us fed, 
 
 With food divine. 
 
 ! let not you and I forget, 
 How often we've together met, 
 Like Heman and Jeduthon,§ set 
 
 In God's own house ; 
 And solemnly his table at, 
 
 Renew 'd our vowsl 
 
 And when the sacred scene was past, 
 
 We sang Doxology at last, 
 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 
 United Three ! 
 One God, our souls redeemed hast, 
 
 So let it be ! 
 
 * Fort Edward lies on the east side of the river, twelve 
 miles above Saratoga. 
 
 + Then called Fort Miller — the remains of the old fort were 
 then to be seen. 
 
 X Rev. Simon "Williams. 
 
 § The two principal leaders of the singing in the Congrega- 
 tion. 
 
FISHER AMES. 
 
 469 
 
 While reason in her seat remains, 
 
 And blood runs streaming through my veins, 
 
 Or memory her power retains, 
 
 I shall review. 
 And think upon the various scenes, 
 
 I've pass'd with you. 
 
 FISHEE AMES. 
 The traditional reputation of Ames for eloquence, 
 Landed down by his friends and fellow politicians, 
 has not expired in his published writings. One 
 of these anecdotes which we heard related, ex- 
 hibits the man ; sensitive, oratorical, and poetical 
 in his ordinary conversation. The news of the 
 death of Hamilton, which gave occasion to one 
 of the most pathetic and brilliant of his oratori- 
 cal essays, was communicated to him at Dedham 
 by two of his friends, who went thither for the 
 purpose. They found him on his grounds, walk- 
 ing with his stick in his hand, superintending 
 some carpenters at work for him. He was told 
 of the death of Hamilton, and its manner. Ab- 
 sorbed in the intelligence, he expressed himself in 
 an eloquent soliloquy : "A great man has fallen" 
 — and continued enumerating the virtues of Ham- 
 ilton, and his relations to his times, when, as he 
 looked down, he struck a thistle with his cane. 
 It supplied him with his favorite imager}' : 
 " Salient and pungent, in the acuteness of his 
 mind," he proceeded, "as the thorn on that this- 
 tle ; soft and gentle in the affections of his heart, 
 as its down." 
 
 The part borne by Ames in politics identifies 
 him with the history of Federalism. His statue 
 should always preserve its niche among the states- 
 men of his country. 
 
 Fisher Ames was born at Dedham, near Boston, 
 April 9, 1758. Of his early career we have but 
 scant mention in the "Life" prefixed to his 
 writings by President Kirkland, a composition 
 
 which is rather a eulogy than a biography.* His 
 family ran back to the Rev. William Ames, the 
 author, in England, of the Medulla Theologian. 
 His grandfather and father were physicians, the 
 latter, Dr. Nathaniel Ames, having acquired a 
 household reputation throughout New England 
 by his calculations as an astronomer, in his alma- 
 ; nacs or Astronomical Diaries, which were pub- 
 lished successively from the year 1726 to the 
 year 1775.t He kept a tavern at Dedham, which 
 in those days added to his celebrity and influence. 
 
 Fisher Ames gave early attention to classical 
 literature, for which he maintained a fondness 
 through life. He was a student of Harvard, re- 
 ceiving his degree in 1774. He then passed a 
 short time as a teacher, studied law in the office 
 of William Tudor, wrote some essays on the poli- 
 tics of his state in the new-papers, signed Lucius 
 Junius Brutus and Camillas, in 1780; was chosen 
 representative to the state legislature in 1788; 
 was the first representative from Suffolk district 
 , to the first Congress under the Constitution, 
 where lie remained during the whole term of 
 Washington's administration, ardently advocating 
 the federal policy, and delivering his great speech; 
 in the House of Representatives, on sustaining 
 the provisions of the British Treaty, April 28, 
 1796. It was extorted from his feeble health by 
 the pressure of the times, and remains a master- 
 piece of argument supported by good sense and a 
 high honor. The skill displayed in his oratorical 
 policy is admirable. It courteously winds round 
 the opposition, with its generous allowances, and 
 strangles them in its embraces. 
 
 After he left Congress, he passed hi ; time most- 
 ly in retirement on his farm at Dedham, exer- 
 cising his pen in a large correspondence on public 
 affairs, and watching the position of his country 
 towards France with unabated interest. In Feb- 
 ruary,' 1800, he delivered a eulogy on Washing- 
 ton, at the request of the Legislature of Massa- 
 chusetts, a statesmanlike and eloquent view of 
 the character and position of his hero. 
 
 His health, broken from the time of his con- 
 gressional life, rapidly declined till ho expired on 
 the anniversary of the National Independence, July 
 4, 1808, having just completed his fiftieth year. 
 
 The qualities of his mind were delicate sensi- 
 bility, an instinctive sagacity for the higher 
 moralities of politics, a fine poetical vein in an 
 active fancy, which combined with his physical 
 accomplishments of a manly, winning attitude 
 and well-toned voice, to render him a most effi- 
 cient orator. 
 
 The quick and forgetive fancy of Ames led to 
 that condensation of expression which is the pe- 
 culiarity of his writings. He thought in figures. 
 What labored deduction could so well express the 
 twin qualities of Hamilton's private and public 
 life as this brilliant poetical sentence : " It is not 
 as Apollo, enchanting the shepherds with his lyre, 
 that we deplore him ; it is as Hercules, treache- 
 rously slain in the midst of his unfinished labors, 
 leaving the world overrun with monsters." Or 
 what finer transition could there be from the 
 
 * This life was originally prefixed to the collection of Ames's 
 speeches and writings in 1809. 
 
 + They were published by father mid son ; to the year 1TG5 
 by N. Ames, and after that by N. Ames, Jr. 
 
470 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 softness of grief to its energy, than in this passage 
 of lament, steeped in the very life-blood of the 
 heart: "The tears that flow on this fond recital 
 ■will never dry up. My heart, penetrated with 
 the remembrance of the man, grows liquid as I 
 write, and I could pour it out like water. I could 
 weep, too, for my country, which, mournful as it 
 is, does not know the half of its loss. It deeply 
 laments, when it turns its eyes back and sees 
 what Hamilton was ; but my soul stiffens with 
 despair when I think what Hamilton would have 
 been." How finely he compares the course of 
 Washington to that of the river on which he 
 dwelt: "The unambitious life of Washington, 
 declining fame yet courted by it, seemed, like the 
 Ohio, to choose its long way through solitudes, 
 diffusing fertility ; or, like his own Potomac, 
 widening and deepening his channel, as he ap- 
 proaches the sea, and displaying most the useful- 
 ness and serenity of his greatness towards the 
 end of his course." In his fears of the progress 
 of democracy, he looks in vain for any power to 
 check its excesses: "Surely," says he, "not the 
 Judiciary, for we cannot expect the office of the 
 priesthood from the victim at the altar." Again 
 he writes : " We have no Juvenal ; and if we 
 had, he would scorn to dissect the vice that wants 
 firmness for the knife, to elevate that he might 
 hit his object, and to dignity low profligacy to be 
 the vehicle of a loathsome immortality." Of the 
 supporters of the French Revolution, he wrote : 
 "The 'enlightened' philosophists surveyed the 
 agitations of the world as if they did not live in 
 it ; as if they occupied, as mere spectators, a safe 
 position in some star, and beheld revolutions 
 sometimes brightening the disk of this planet 
 with their fires, and at others dimming it with 
 their vapors. They could contemplate, unmoved, 
 the whirlwind, lifting the hills from their base 
 and mixing their ruins with the clouds. They 
 could see the foundations of society gaping in 
 fissures, as when an earthquake struggles from the 
 centre. A true philosopher is superior to humani- 
 ty ; he could walk at ease over this earth if it 
 were unpeopled ; he could tread, with all the 
 pleasure of curiosity, on its cinders the day after 
 the final conflagration." In his Lessons from 
 History, comparing the policy of Jefferson 
 towards France with that of England in the old 
 French war, he has this bold illustration : " Great 
 Britain looked at these aggressions, and she saw 
 in the whole aspect of affairs, as in a looking- 
 glass, blotches of dishonor, like leprosy, in her 
 face, if she should bear these wrongs with a 
 tameness that she foresaw would multiply 
 them." 
 
 The conclusion of his speech on the British 
 Treaty, when he alludes to his feeble health, could 
 hardly be surpassed for delicacy or force : * " I 
 
 * Dr. Charles Caldwell, who 'attended the debates, in his 
 Autobiography thus speaks of Ames's eloquence: "He was 
 decidedly one of the most splendid rhetoricians of the age. 
 Two of his speeches, in a special manner — that on Jay's treaty, 
 and that usually called his ' Tomahawk Speech," (because it in- 
 cluded some resplendent passages on Indian massacres) — were 
 the most brilliant and fascinating specimens of eloquence I 
 have ever heard : yet have I listened to some of the most cele- 
 brated speakers in the British parliament — among others, to 
 Wilberforee ami Mackintosh, Plunket, Brougham and Can- 
 Ding ; and Dr. Priestley, who was familiar with the oratory of 
 Pitt the father and Pitt the son, and also with that of Burke 
 and Fox, made to myself the acknowledgment, that, in his 
 own words, the speech of Ames, on the British Treaty, was 
 
 have been led by my feelings to speak more at 
 length than I had intended. Yet I have perhaps 
 as little personal interest in the event as any one 
 here. There is, I believe, no member, who will 
 not think his chance to be a witness of the con- 
 sequences greater than mine. If, however, the 
 vote should pass to reject, and a spirit should rise, 
 as it will, with the public disorders, to make 
 ' confusion worse confounded,' even I, slender 
 and almost broken as my hold upon life is, may 
 outlive the government and constitution of my 
 country." 
 
 The correspondence of Ames, recently pub- 
 lished* by his son, Seth Ames, shows the politi- 
 cian in his most confidential moods, writing to 
 his political friends on the polities in which he 
 bore a personal part, from his introduction to the 
 first Congress under the Constitution, in New 
 York, in 1780, to his last Dedham letters to 
 Timothy Pickering and Josiah Quincy, at the 
 close of the year preceding his death. The party 
 spirit of Federalism lives again in these pages. 
 Well grounded in the principles of conservatism, 
 and with a deeply founded respect for the Consti- 
 tution, Ames mingled with his convictions the 
 restless anticipations of a mind given to despon- 
 dency. For a new state, he was something of a 
 croaker ; a man constitutionally timid. There 
 were " the fears of the brave " in his composition ; 
 but, if he doubted of affairs, it was with a pa- 
 triotic motive and acute philosophic argument to 
 support him. " Government," he writes from 
 Philadelphia, to his constant correspondent, 
 George Richards ilinot, " here is in the cradle, 
 and good men must watch their own child, or it 
 will die and be made away with." No one watch- 
 ed more vigilantly than Ames, or cried "Wolf! 
 wolf!" to the child oftener. 
 
 The letters of Ames are sharply written, with 
 point and occasional felicities of expression, but 
 they are not elaborate or highly finished compo- 
 sitions, rarely partaking of the essay character of 
 some of Webster's epistles. 
 
 In his religious views, Ames was, by choice 
 and principle, a member of the Protestant Epis- 
 copal Church. 
 
 MO.NSTEOUS EOLATIONS IS NEWSPAPEES.+ 
 
 (Addressed to Printers.) 
 
 It seems ns if newspaper wares were made to suit 
 a market, as much as any other. The starers, and 
 wonderers, and gapers, engross a very large share 
 of the attention of all the sons of the type. Extra- 
 ordinary events multiply upon us surprisingly. 
 Gazettes, it is seriously to be feared, will not long 
 allow room to any thiDg that is not loathsome or 
 shocking. A newspaper is pronounced to be very 
 lean and destitute of matter, if it contains no account 
 of murders, suicides, prodigies, or monstrous births. 
 
 Some of these tales excite horror, and others dis- 
 gust; yet the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish 
 wonders, and almost to relish nothing else. Is this 
 a reasonable taste ? or is it monstrous and worthy 
 of ridicule? Is the History of Xewgate the only 
 one worth reading ? Are oddities only to be hunf- 
 
 'the most bewitching piece of parliamentary oratory he had 
 ever listened to.' " — CaldwdTs Autoliography, 114. 
 
 * Works of Fisher Ames, with a selection from his Speech/* 
 and Correspondence. Edited by his son, Seth Ames. Two" 
 vols. Svo. Boston. Little. Brown & Co. 1?54. 
 
 + First published in the Palladium, October, 1SC1. 
 
FI3IIER AMES. 
 
 47J 
 
 ed ? Pray tell us, men of ink, if our free presses are 
 to diffuse information, and we, the poor ignorant 
 people, ean get it in no other way than by newspa- 
 pers, what knowledge we are to glean from the 
 blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder 
 storms, that, strange to to' 1 K kill oxen, or burn 
 barns ; and cats, that bring two-headed kittens ; and 
 sows, that eat their own pigs ? The crowing of a 
 hen is supposed to forebode cuckledom ; and the 
 ticking of a little bug in the wall threatens yellow 
 fever. It seems really as if our newspapers were 
 busy to spread superstition. Omens, and dreams, 
 and prodigies, are recorded, as if they were worth 
 minding. One would think our gazettes were in- 
 tended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to 
 make account of such tilings. We ridicule the 
 papists for their credulity ; yet, if all the trumpery 
 of our papers is believed, we have little right to 
 laugh at any set of people on earth ; and if it is not 
 believed, why is it printed? 
 
 Surely extraordinary events have not the best 
 title to our studious attention. To study nature or 
 man, we ought to know things that are in the ordi- 
 nary course, not the unaccountable things that hap- 
 pen out of it. 
 
 This country is said to measure seven hundred 
 millions of acres, and is inhabited by almost six 
 millions of people. Who can doubt, then, that a 
 great many crimes will be committed, and a great 
 many strange things will happen every seven 
 years? There will be thunder showers, that will 
 split tough white oak trees: and hail storms, that 
 will cost some farmers the full amount of twenty 
 shillings to mend their glass windows ; there will 
 be taverns, and boxing matches, and elections, and 
 gouging and drinking, and love and murder, and 
 running in debt, and running away, and suicide. 
 Now, if a man supposes eight, or ten, or twenty 
 dozen of these amusing events will happen in a sin- 
 gle year, is he not just as wise as another man, who 
 reads fifty columns of amazing particulars, and, of 
 course, knows that they have happened? 
 
 This state has almost one hundred thousand 
 dwelling houses; it would be strange if all of them 
 should escape fire for twelve months. Yet is it 
 very profitable for a man to become a deep student 
 of all the accidents by which they are consumed? 
 He should take good care of his chimney corner, and 
 put. a fender before the back-log, before he goes to 
 bed. Having done this, he may let his aunt or 
 grandmother read by day, or meditate by night, the 
 terrible newspaper articles of fires ; how a maid 
 dropped asleep reading a romance, and the bed 
 clothes took fire ; how a boy, searching in a garret 
 for a hoard of nuts, kindled some flax ; and how a 
 mouse, warming his tail, caught it on fire, and car- 
 ried it into his hole in the floor. 
 
 Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise 
 simple, and very simple, wonder ; some terror ; and 
 some horror and disgust. Now what instruction is 
 there in these endless wonders? Who is the wiser 
 or happier for reading the accounts of them? On 
 the contrary, do they not shock tender minds, and 
 addle shallow brains? They make a thousand old 
 maids, and eight or ten thousand booby boys, 
 afraid to go to bed alone. Worse than this hap- 
 pens ; for some eccentric minds are turned to mis- 
 chief by such accounts as they receive of troops of 
 incendiaries burning our cities: the spirit of imita- 
 tion is contagious ; and boys are found unaccounta- 
 bly bent to do as men do. When the man flew 
 from the 6teeple of the North church fifty years 
 ago, every unlucky boy thought of nothing" but 
 Hying from a sign-post. 
 
 It was once a fashion to stab heretics ; and Ra- 
 
 vaillac, who stabbed Henry the Fourth of France, 
 the assassin of the Duke of Guise, and of the Duke 
 of Buckingham, with many others, only followed 
 the fashion. Is it not in the power of newspapers 
 to spread fashions; and by dinning burnings and 
 murders in everybody's ears, to detain all rash and 
 mischievous tempers on such subjects, long enough 
 to wear out the first impression of horror, and to pre- 
 pare them to act what they so familiarly contem- 
 plate? Yet there seems to be a sort of rivalship 
 among printers, who shall have the most wonders, 
 and the strangest and most horrible crimes. This 
 taste will multiply prodigies. The superstitious 
 Romans used to forbid reports of new prodigies, 
 while they were performing sacrifices on such ac- 
 counts. 
 
 Every horrid story in a newspaper produces a 
 shock ; but, after some time, this shock lessens. At 
 length, such stories are so far from giving pain, that 
 they rather raise curiosity, and we desire nothing so 
 much as the particulars of terrible tragedies. The 
 wonder is as easy as to stare ; and the most vacant 
 mind is the most in need of such resources as cost no 
 trouble of scrutiny or reflection ; it is a sort of food 
 for idle curiosity that is readily chewed and digested. 
 
 On the whole, we may insist that the increasing 
 fashion for printing wonderful tales of crimes and 
 accidents is worse than ridiculous, as it corrupts 
 both the public taste and morals. It multiplies 
 fables, prodigious monsters, and crimes, and thus 
 makes shocking things familiar ; while it withdraws 
 all popular attention from familiar truth, because it 
 is not shocking. 
 
 Now, Messrs. Printers. I pray the whole hon- 
 ourable craft to banish as many murders, and horrid 
 accidents, and monstrous births and prodigies from 
 their gazettes, as their readers will permit them ; 
 and, by degrees, to coax tliein back to contemplate 
 life and manners ; to consider common events with 
 some common sense; and to study nature where she 
 can be known, rather than in those of her ways 
 where she really is, or is represented to be, inexpli- 
 cable. 
 
 Strange events are facts, and as such should be 
 mentioned, but with brevity and in a cursory man- 
 ner. They afford no ground for popular reasoning 
 or instruction ; and, therefore, the horrid details 
 that make each particular hair stiffen and stand up- 
 right in the reader's head ought not to be given. 
 In short, they must be mentioned ; but sensible 
 printers and sensible readers will think that way of 
 mentioning them the best that impresses them least 
 on the public attention, and that hurries them on 
 the most swiftly to be forgotten. 
 
 A 8KETCII OF THE CHARACTER OF ALEXANDER nAMILTON. 
 
 The following Sketch, written immediately after the death 
 of the ever to be lamented Hamilton, was read to a select 
 company of friends, and at their desire it first appeared in the 
 Repertory, July, 1804. 
 
 It is with really great men as with great literary 
 works, the excellence of both is best tested by the 
 extent and durableness of their impression. The 
 public has not suddenly, but after an experience of 
 five-and-twenty years, taken that impression of the 
 just celebrity of Alexander Hamilton, that nothing 
 but his extraordinary intrinsic merit could have 
 made, and still less could have made so deep and 
 maintained so long. In this case, it is safe and cor- 
 rect to judge by effects; we sometimes calculate the 
 height of a mountain, by measuring the length of its 
 shadow. 
 
 It is not a party, for party distinctions, to the 
 honor of our citizens be it said, arc confounded bv 
 the event; it is a nation that weeps for its bereave- 
 
472 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 merit. We weep, as the Romans did over the ashes 
 of G-crmanicus. It is a thoughtful, foreboding sor- 
 row, that takes possession of the heart, and sinks it 
 with no counterfeited heaviness. 
 
 It is here proper and not invidious to remark, that 
 as the emulation excited by conducting great affairs 
 commonly trains and exhibits great talents, it is sel- 
 dom the case that the fairest and soundest judgment 
 of a great man's merit is to be gained, exclusively, 
 from his associates in counsel or in action. Persons 
 of conspicuous merit themselves are, not unfrequent- 
 ly, bad judges, and still worse witnesses on this 
 point; often rivals, sometimes enemies; almost al- 
 ways unjust, and still oftener envious or cold. The 
 opinions they give to the public, as well as those 
 they privately formed for themselves, are of course 
 discolored with the hue of their prejudices and re- 
 sentments. 
 
 But the body of the people, who cannot feel a 
 spirit of rivnlship towards those whom they see ele- 
 vated by nature and education so far above their 
 heads, are more equitable, and, supposing a compe- 
 tent time and opportunity for information ou the 
 subject, more intelligent judges. Even party rancor, 
 eager to maim the living, scorns to strip the slain. 
 The most hostile passions are soothed or baffled by 
 the fall of their antagonist. Then, if not sooner, the 
 very multitude will fairly decide on character, ac- 
 cording to their experience of its impression ; and 
 as long as virtue, not unfrequently for a time ob- 
 scured, is ever respectable when distinctly seen, 
 they cannot withhold, and they will not stint their 
 admiration. 
 
 If, then, the popular estimation is ever to be taken 
 for the true one, the uncommonly profound public 
 sorrow for the death of Alexander Hamilton suf- 
 ficiently explains and vindicates itself. He had not 
 made himself dear to the passions of the multitude 
 by condescending, in defiance of his honor and con- 
 science, to become their instrument ; he is not la- 
 mented, because a skilful flatterer is now mute for 
 ever. It was by the practice of no art, by wearing 
 no disguise; it was not by accident, or by the levity 
 or profligacy of party, but in despite of its malignant 
 misrepresentation ; it was by bold and inflexible ad- 
 herence to truth, by loving his country better than 
 himself, preferring its interests to its favor, and serv- 
 ing it when it was unwilling and unthankful, in a 
 manner that no other person could, that he rose ; 
 and the true popularity, the homage that is paid to 
 virtue, followed him. It was not in the power of 
 party or envy to pull him down; but he rose with 
 the refulgence of a star, till the very prejudice that 
 could not reach, was at length almost read3' to 
 adore him. 
 
 It is indeed no imagined wound that inflicts so 
 keen an anguish. Since the news of his death, the 
 novel and strange events of Europe have succeeded 
 each other unregarded; the nation has been en- 
 chained to its subject, and broods over its grief, 
 which is more deep than eloquent, which though 
 dumb, can make itself felt without utterance, and 
 which does not merely pass, but like an electrical 
 shock, at the same instant smites and astonishes, as 
 it passes from Georgia to New Hampshire. 
 
 There is a kind of force put upon our thoughts by 
 this disaster, which detains and rivets them to a 
 closer contemplation of those resplendent virtues, 
 that are now lost, except to memory, and there they 
 wdl dwell for ever. 
 
 That writer would deserve the fame of a public 
 benefactor who could exhibit the character of Ham- 
 ilton, with the truth and force that all who inti- 
 mately knew him conceived it ; his example would 
 then take the same ascendant as his talents. The por- 
 
 trait alone, however exquisitely finished, could not 
 inspire genius where it is not; but if the world 
 should again have possession of so rare a gift, it 
 might awaken it where it sleeps, as by a spark from 
 heaven's own altar; for surely if there is any thing 
 like divinity in man, it is in his admiration of vir- 
 tue. 
 
 But who alive can exhibit this portrait ? If our 
 age, on that supposition more fruitful than any other, 
 had produced two Hamiltons, one of them might 
 then have depicted the other. To delineate genius 
 one must feel its power ; Hamilton, and he alone, 
 with all its inspirations, could have transfused its 
 whole fervid soul into the picture, and swelled its 
 lineaments into life. The writer's mind, expanding 
 with his own peculiar enthusiasm, and glowing with 
 kindred fires, would then have stretched to the di- 
 mensions of his subject. 
 
 Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very 
 difficult for a man who is greatly the superior of his 
 associates, to preserve their friendship without 
 abatement ; yet, though he could not possibly con- 
 ceal his superiority, he was so little inclined to dis- 
 play it, he. was so much at ease in its possession, 
 that no jealousy or envy chilled his bosom, when 
 his friends obtained praise. He was indeed so 
 entirely the friend of his friends, so magnanimous, 
 so superior, or more properly so insensible to all 
 exclusive selfishness of spirit, so frank, so ardent, 
 yet so little overbearing, so much trusted, admired, 
 i beloved, almost adored, that his power over their 
 affections was entire, and lasted through his life. 
 We do not believe that he left any worthy man his 
 foe who had ever been his friend. 
 
 Men of the most elevated minds have not always 
 the readiest discernment of character. Perhaps he 
 was sometimes too sudden and too lavish in bestow- 
 ing his confidence ; his manly spirit, disdaining arti- 
 fice, suspected none. But while the power of his 
 friends over him seemed to have no limits, and 
 really had none, in respect to those things which 
 were of a nature to be yielded, no man, not the 
 Roman Cato himself, was more inflexible on every 
 point that touched, or only seemed to touch, inte- 
 grity and honor. With him, it was not enough to be 
 unsuspected ; his bosom would have glowed, like a 
 furnace, at its own whispers of reproach. Mere 
 purity would have seemed to him below praise; 
 and such were his habits, and such his nature, that 
 the pecuniary temptations, which many others can 
 only with great exertion and self-denial resist, had 
 no attractions for him. He was very far from ob- 
 stinate ; yet, as his friends assailed his opinions with 
 less profound thought than he had devoted to them, 
 they were seldom shaken by discussion. He de- 
 fended them, however, with as much mildness as 
 force, and evinced, that if he did not yield, it was 
 not for want of gentleness or modesty. 
 
 The tears that flow on this fond recital will never 
 dry up. My heart, penetrated with the remem- 
 brance of the man, grows liquid as I write, and I 
 could pour it out like water. I could weep too for 
 my country, which, mournful as it is, does not know 
 the half of its loss. It deeply laments, when it 
 turns its eyes back, and sees what Hamilton was ; 
 but my soul stiffens with despair when I think what 
 Hamilton would have been. 
 
 His social affections and his private virtues are 
 not, however, so properly the object of public atten- 
 tion, as the conspicuous and commanding qualities 
 that gave him his fame and influence in the world. 
 It is not as Apollo, enchanting the shepherds with 
 his lyre, that we deplore him ; it is as Hercules, 
 treacherously slnin in the midst of his unfinished 
 labors, leaving the world overrun with monsters. 
 
FISHER AMES. 
 
 473 
 
 His early life we pass over; though his heroic 
 spirit in the army has furnished a theme that is 
 dear to patriotism and will be sacred to glory. 
 
 In all the different stations iu which a life of 
 active usefulness has placed him, we find him not 
 more remarkably distinguished by the extent, than 
 by the variety and versatility of his talents. Iu 
 every place he made it apparent, that no other man 
 could have filled it so well; and in times of critical 
 importance, ill which alone he desired employment, 
 his services were justly deemed absolutely indis- 
 pensable. As secretary of the treasury, his was 
 the powerful spirit that presided over the chaos : 
 
 Confusion beard his voice, and wild uproar 
 Stood ruled 
 
 Indeed, in organizing the federal government in 
 1TS9, every man of either sense or candor will al- 
 low, the difficulty seemed greater than the first-rate 
 abilities could surmount. The event has shown that 
 his abilities were greater than those difficulties. He 
 surmounted them — and Washington's administration 
 was the most wise a id beneficent, the most prospe- 
 rous, and ought to be the most popular, that ever 
 was intrusted with the affairs of a nation. Great as 
 was Washington's merit, much of it in plan, much 
 in execution, will of course devolve upon his minis- 
 ter. 
 
 As a lawyer, his comprehensive genius reached 
 the principles of his profession ; he compassed its ex- 
 tent, he fathomed its profound, perhaps even more 
 familiarly and easily, than the ordinary rules of its 
 practice. With most men law is a trade ; with him 
 it was a science. 
 
 As a statesman, he was not more distinguished by 
 the great extent of his views, than by the caution 
 with which he provided against impediments, and 
 the watchfulness of his care over right and the lib- 
 erty of the subject. Iu none of the many revenue 
 bills which he framed, though committees reported 
 them, is there to be found a single clause that savors 
 of despotic power; not one that the sagest champions 
 of law and liberty would, on that ground, hesitate to 
 approve and adopt. 
 
 It is rare that a man, who owes so much to na- 
 ture, descends to seek more from industry ; but he 
 seemed to depend on industry, as if nature had done 
 nothing for him. His habits of investigation were 
 very remarkable ; his mind seemed to cling to his 
 subject till he had exhausted it. Hence the uncom- 
 mon superiority of his reasoning powers, a su- 
 periority that seemed to be augmented from every 
 source, and to be fortified by every auxiliary, learn- 
 ing, taste, wit, imagination, and eloquence. These 
 were embellished and enforced by his temper and 
 manners, by his fame and his virtues. It is difficult, 
 in the midst of such various excellence, to say iu 
 what particular the effect of his greatness was most 
 manifest. No man more promptly discerned truth ; 
 no man more clearly displayed it ; it was not merely 
 made visible, it seemed to come bright with illumi- 
 nation from his lips. But prompt and clear as he 
 was, fervid as Demosthenes, like Cicero full of re- 
 source, he was not less remarkable for the copious- 
 ness and completeness of his argument, that left lit- 
 tle for cavil, and nothing for doubt. Some men take 
 their strongest argument as a weapon, and use no 
 other; but he left nothing to be inquired for more, 
 nothing to be answered. He not only disarmed his 
 adversaries of their pretexts and objections, but he 
 stripped them of all excuse for having urged them : 
 he confounded and subdued as well as convinced. 
 He indemnified them, however, by making his dis- 
 cussion a complete map of his subject, so that his 
 opponents might, indeed, feel ashamed of their mis-. 
 
 takes, but they could not repeat them. In fact, it 
 was no common effort that could preserve a really 
 able antagonist from becoming his convert; for the 
 truth, which his researches so distinctly presented 
 to the understanding of others, was rendered almost 
 irresistibly commanding and impressive by the love 
 and reverence which, it was ever apparent, he pro- 
 foundly cherished for it in his own. While patri- 
 otism glowed in his heart, wisdom ble:n'ed in his 
 speech her authority with her charms. 
 
 Such, also, is the character of his writings. Ju- 
 diciously collected, they will be a public trea- 
 sure. 
 
 No man ever more disdained duplicity, or carried 
 frankness further than he. This gave to his politi- 
 cal opponents some temporary advantages, and cur- 
 rency to some popular prejudices, which he would 
 have lived down if his death had not prematurely 
 dispelled them. He knew that factions have ever 
 iu the end prevailed iu free states; and, as he saw 
 no security (and who living can see any adequate?) 
 against the destruction of that liberty which he 
 loved, and for which he was over ready to devote 
 his life, he spoke at all times according to his anx- 
 ious forebodings ; and his enemies interpreted all 
 that he said according to the supposed interest of 
 their party. 
 
 But he ever extorted confidence, even when he 
 most provoked opposition. It was impossible to 
 deny that he was a patriot, and such a patriot as, 
 seeking neither popularity nor office, without arti- 
 fice, without meanness, the best Romans in their 
 best days would have admitted to citizenship and to 
 the consulate. Virtue so rare, so pure, so bold, by 
 its very purity and excellence inspired suspicion as 
 a prodigy. His enemies judged of him by them- 
 selves ; so splendid and arduous were his services, 
 they could not find it in their hearts to believe that 
 they were disinterested. 
 
 Unparalleled as they were, they were nevertheless 
 no otherwise requited than by the applause of all 
 good men, and by his own enjoyment of the spec- 
 tacle of that national prosperity and honor which 
 was the effect of them. After facing calumny, and 
 triumphantly surmounting an unrelenting persecu- 
 tion, he retired from office with clean, though empty 
 hands, as rich as reputation and an unblemished in- 
 tegrity could make him. 
 
 Some have plausibly, though erroneously infer- 
 red, from the great extent of his abilities, that his 
 ambition was inordinate. This is a mistake. Such 
 men as have a painful consciousness that their 
 stations happen to be far more exalted than their 
 talents, are generally the most ambitious. Hamil- 
 ton, on the contrary, thougli he had many competi- 
 tors, had no rivals ; for he did not thirst for power, 
 nor would he, as it was well known, descend to 
 office. Of course he suffered no pain from envy 
 when bad men rose, thougli he felt anxiety for the 
 public. He was perfectly content and at ease in 
 private life. Of what was he ambitious? Not of 
 wealth ; no man held it cheaper. Was it of popu- 
 larity ? That weed of the dunghill he know, when 
 rankest, was nearest to withering. There is no 
 doubt that he desired glory, which to most men is 
 too inaccessible to be an object of desire ; but feel- 
 ing his own force, and that he was tall enough to 
 reach to the top of Pindus or of Helicon, he longe 1 
 to deck his brow with the wreath of immortality. 
 A vulgar ambition could as little comprehend as sa- 
 tisfy his views ; he thirsted only for that fame, 
 which virtue would not blush to confer, nor time to 
 convey to the end of his course. 
 
 The only ordinary distinction, to which we confess 
 he did aspire, was military ; and for that, in the 
 
474- 
 
 CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 event of a foreign war, he would have been solici- 
 tous. He undoubtedly discovered the predominance 
 of a soldier's feelings ; and all that is honor in the 
 character of a soldier was at homo in his heart. His 
 early education was in the camp; there the first fer- 
 vors of liis genius were poured forth, and his earliest 
 and most cordial friendships were formed; there he 
 became enamored of glory, and was admitted to 
 her embrace. 
 
 Those who knew him best, and especially in the 
 army, will believe, that if occasions had called him 
 forth, he was qualified beyond any man of the age, 
 to display the talents of a great general. 
 
 It may be very long before our country will 
 want such military talents ; it will probably be 
 much longer before it will again possess them. 
 
 Alas! the great man who was at all times so 
 'much the ornament of our country, and so ex- 
 clusively fitted it in its extremity to be its cham- 
 pion, is withdrawn to a purer and more tranquil 
 region. We are left to endless labors and unavail- 
 ing regrets. 
 
 Such honors Ilion to her hero paid, 
 
 And peaceful slejjt the mighty Hector's shade. 
 
 The most substantial glory of a country is in its 
 virtuous great men; its prosperity will depend on 
 its docility to learn from their example. That na- 
 tion is fated to ignominy and servitude, for which 
 such men have lived in vain. Power may be seized 
 by a nation that is yet barbarous : and wealth may 
 be enjoyed by one that it finds or renders sordid; 
 the one is the gift and the sport of accident, and the 
 other is the sport of power. Both are mutable, and 
 have passed away without leaving behind them any 
 other memorial than ruins that offend taste, and 
 traditions that baffle conjecture. But the glory of 
 Greece is imperishable, or will last as long as learn- 
 ing itself, which is its monument ; it strikes an ever- 
 lasting root, and bears perennial blossoms on its 
 grave. The name of Hamilton would have honored 
 Greece in the age of Aristides. May heaven, the 
 guardian of our liberty, grant that our country 
 may be fruitful of Ilamiltons, and faithful to their 
 glory ! 
 
 NOAH WEBSTER. 
 
 Noah Webster was born in West Hartford, Ct., 
 October 1(3, 1758. He was of a good New Eng- 
 land family, his father being a farmer and justice 
 of the peace, and descendant of John Webster, 
 an old governor of Connecticut, while his mother 
 was similarly connected with William Bradford 
 the second governor of Plymouth colony. Web- 
 ster was prepared by the clergyman of the town, 
 the Rev. Nathan Perkins, for Yale, which he 
 entered in 177Ir, and in his junior year found him- 
 self in the midst of the interruptions of the 
 Revolution. His father was serving in the militia 
 raised to meet Burgoyne, and his son joined him. 
 He was graduated, however, at the end of his 
 four years, in the same class with Joel Barlow 
 and Oliver Wolcott; when his father, on his 
 return from Commencement, presented him with 
 an eight-dollar hill of the Continental currency, 
 which was worth about four dollars in specie, 
 with the information that he must for the future 
 take care of himself. It was the fortune of many 
 a noble-minded youth of the days of the Revolu- 
 tion. School-keeping was, as usual, the first re- 
 source. Law was the second. Pursuing his 
 studies by himself in the intervals of his school, 
 he was admitted to the bar in 1781. There was 
 little opportunity for the practice of the profession 
 
 j at the time, and the next year found Webster 
 I teaching a classical school at Goshen, in Orange 
 I County, New York. Here lie first entered upon 
 I the preparation of the school-books by which 
 | he subsequently became so well known to the 
 ' country. He was encouraged in his plan on a 
 ' visit to Philadelphia, by Mr. Madison and Pro- 
 1 fessor Samuel Stanhope Smith. He revised his 
 work the next winter, and returning to Hartford 
 in 1783, published there his First Part of a 
 Grammatical Institute of the English Language. 
 The second and third parts followed; the whole 
 comprising the famous spelling-book, an English 
 grammar, and a reader.* The spelling-book, re- 
 vised at different times by its author, reached a 
 sale during his lifetime of millions, and supported 
 his family for twenty years, while he was en- 
 gaged in preparing his American Dictionary, by 
 its copyright income of less than one cent per 
 copy. It was the first work of its kind in the 
 country, and long remained the only one in 
 general use. With tape-tied back, and in thin 
 wooden covers, it circulated among the trade in 
 orders by the box. 
 
 sYiyab&> 
 
 * These were the early titles : — A Grammatical Institute of 
 the English Language, comprising an Easy, Concise, and Syste- 
 matic Method of Education, designed for the Use of English 
 Schools in America. In three parts. Part I. Containing a new 
 and accurate standard of Pronunciation, By Noah Webster, 
 A.M. Usus est norma loquendi. Cicero, (sic.) Hartford: 
 Printed by Hudson and Goodwin for the Author. [This copy, 
 in the Library at Harvard, is without a date, but as the book 
 was given Dec. G, 17S3, it is doubtless the first edition.] 
 
 A Grammatical Institute of the English Language. Com- 
 prising an Easy, Concise, and Systematic Method of ^Education, 
 designed for the use of English Schools in America. In three 
 parts. Part II. Containing a plain and comprehensive gram- 
 mar, founded on the true principles and idioms of the language. 
 By Noah Webster, jun., Esq. The third Edition, revised and 
 amended. Phila. Young and M'Cnltoch. 17S7. 
 
 An American Selection of Lessons in Beading and Speaking, 
 calculated to improve the minds and refine the taste of youth, 
 and also to instruct them in the Geography, History, and 
 Politics of the United States, to which is (.«" ) prefixed, Eules 
 in Elocution, and Directions for expressing the principal pas- 
 sions of the mind, being the third part of a Grammatical In- 
 stitute of the English Language. By Nonh Webster, jun., Esq. 
 The third edition, greatly enlarged. Begin ivith the infant in 
 kvi cradle ; let the first word he- lisps be Watdiington. Mika- 
 beau. Phila. Young and M'Culloch. 1787, 
 
NOAH WEBSTER. 
 
 475 
 
 Noah "Webster had tact in discerning the wants 
 of the country in his day, and providing for 
 them in 'this spelling-book. The two small 
 volumes of the three parts of his Institutes were 
 quite a complete manual of juvenile education for 
 the times. He simplified knowledge, and made it 
 easy of ac position, arranging the words of his 
 spelling-book in ready forms to catch the eye and 
 lingsv in the memory, while he added brief lessons 
 in definitions, and geographical and other terms, 
 intermingling those homely and hearty lessons 
 of fables and proverbs, which were not at all 
 blunted in their way to the conscience by wood- 
 cuts, such as the infantile state of the art in the 
 country then afforded, of the most execrable 
 character. There have been few moral lessons 
 productive of the same effect in the country, 
 as the famous old fable of the Boy that Stole 
 Apples, and who sits in the old wood-cut alarm- 
 ingly exposed, astride of the branch of a tree 
 almost naked of foliage, while the farmer in 
 small-clothes, one arm akimbo, the other in a 
 most striking attitude, takes aim at the " s-auce- 
 box." Many an honest fellow through the world 
 has had his sense of duty painfully strengthened 
 by the moral of that fable. Then there is that 
 forlorn Country Maid and her Milk Pail, teach- 
 ing the double lesson of the vanity of human ex- 
 pectations, and the folly of unnecessary grief, — 
 that chickens are not to be counted before they 
 are hatched, or milk to be wept over after it is 
 spilt. That story, too, of the Boy that went to 
 the rood to look for birds' nests when he should 
 luive gone to school, and the Descriptions of a 
 Good Biy and of a Bui Boy, not forgetting the 
 wonderful table of Proverbs, Councils, ami Max- 
 ims, all in words of one syllable, ta cing the wis- 
 dom of nations, and the strong old Saxon powers 
 of the English language ; all sound lessons, calcu- 
 lated to mike honest men, and ingenious Benja- 
 min Franklins.* The third part of the Institutes, 
 the American selection, was well made up with 
 lesson-; in reading, lessons in speaking, dialogues, 
 and poetry. There was the affecting story of La 
 Roche, rules of behavior from Chesterfield and 
 of making money from Franklin, dialogue from 
 Otway and Shakespeare, the story of Lord Peter, 
 Martin, and Jack, from the Tale of a Tub, and 
 American history and patriotism in abundance, 
 from the narratives of Greene and Ramsay, the 
 orations of Warren and Hancock, and the poetry 
 of D wight, Freneau, and Barlow. A later edition 
 of this last division in the American Selection^ 
 added Franklin's memorable story of The Whistle, 
 Jefferson's Logan, General Bnrgoyne's relation of 
 
 * One of the curiosities of the early editions of the spelling- 
 book is the frequent introduction, at the foot of the page, of 
 warnings against mispronunciations, which may be suppose'! 
 to have been usual at tho time. Thus "ask" is declared to be 
 '■not ax';' 1 "card." "not Cairo;*' " herb," "not yerb ;" "wain- 
 scot," " not winclieott;" "resin," " not rozum ;" " cany," " not 
 kerry ;" " chimney," " not ehimbly ;" " kernel," " not karnal ;" 
 "confiscate," "not confiscate." If Webster saved the coun- 
 try from these and similar barbarities ill a rude state of speech 
 and writing, and with a likelihood of errors of tho kind being 
 perpetuated among a thin and scattered popnlntio and ho 
 doubtless did a great deal in the matter — he deserves well of 
 the nation. 
 
 t An American Selection of Lessons in Reading and Speak- 
 ing; calculated to improve the minds and refine the taste of 
 youth, to which are prefixed. Rules in Elocution, and Direc- 
 tions for expressing the principal passions of the mind. By 
 Noah Webster. Hogau's fifth improved edition. Phila. 1810, 
 
 the Funeral of General Frazer, and Humphreys's 
 Adventures of General Putnam. These were the 
 "household words" in school-houses, over hill and 
 valley, and in the homes of our forefathers in the 
 youth of the nation. 
 
 Webster next appeared as a writer on public 
 affairs, publishing letters with the signature of 
 Honorius in the Connecticut Courant, in defence 
 of the measures of Congress in the pay of the 
 army. In the winter of 1784 he published a 
 pamphlet, Sketches of American Policy , in which 
 he urged the advantages of a general government. 
 This, his biographer, Mr. Goodrich, remarks was 
 " the first distinct proposal, made through the 
 medium of the press, for a new constitution 
 of the United States." The next year he made 
 a journey to the South to petition the state 
 legislatures for a copyright law; and long after- 
 wards, when the act of Congress had made pro- 
 vision for the matter, used his influence at Wash- 
 ington in 1830, in securing the extension of the 
 term. In 1785 Webster was at Baltimore pre- 
 paring a course of lectures on the English lan- 
 guage, which he delivered in the chief cities the 
 following year, and afterwards published in his 
 octavo, entitled Dissertations on the English 
 Language. In 1787 he was principal of an 
 Episcopal academy at Philadelphia, and when the 
 Constitution of the United States was formed by 
 the Convention in that year, gave it his assistance 
 in a pamphlet, an Examination of the Leading 
 Principles of the Federal Constitution. In 1787 
 Webster published the American Magazine* for a 
 year at New York, a creditable though unsuc- 
 cessful pioneer attempt in this department of 
 literature. It was neat in arrangement, and 
 though " miscellaneous" in its contents, started 
 some interesting antiquarian and scientific mat- 
 ters in the editor's letters to President Stiles on 
 Western Fortifications and other topics. Its 
 Americanism was well sustained by poetical ex- 
 tracts from Dwight, Barlow, and Trumbull. 
 
 In 178'.), he published Dissertations on the Eng- 
 lish Language ; with notes, historical and critical, 
 with an E.-say on a reformed mode of spelling.! 
 This work was dedicated to Franklin. The essay 
 on Orthography shows the bold starting-point of 
 Webster in his efforts to create " an American 
 tongue." These views, though he was compelled 
 ultimately to recede from them almost entirely, 
 entered largely into several of his most important, 
 works. They were thus announced in 1780 : — 
 
 The principal alterations, necessary to render our 
 orthography sufficiently regular and easy, are 
 these: 
 
 1. The omission of all superfluous or silent letters, 
 as a in bread. Thus bread, head, give, breast, built, 
 meant, realm, friend, would be spelt, bred, lied, giv, 
 brest, bilt, ment, rclm, frend. Would this alteration 
 produce any inconvenience, any embarrassment or 
 expense ? By no means. On the other hand it 
 
 * The American Magazine, containing a miscellaneous collec- 
 tion of original and other valuable Essays, in prose and verse; 
 and calculated both for instruction and amusement. "Science 
 the guide and Truth the eternal goal." Barlow. New York ; 
 Samuel Loudon. Dec. 17S7— Nov. 1788. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 8S2. 
 
 + Dissertations on the English Language: with notes, histo- 
 rical and critical, to which is added, by way of Appendix, an 
 Essay on a reformed mode of spelling, wi;h Dr. Franklin's ar- 
 guments on that subject. Planted at Boston, for the author. 
 By Isaiah Thomas & Co. 8vo. 17S9. 
 
476 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 would lessen the trouble of writing, and much more, 
 of learning the language ; it would reduce the true 
 pronunciation to a certainty ; and while it would 
 assist foreigners and our own children in acquiring 
 the language, it would render the pronunciation uni- 
 form, in different parts of the country, and almost 
 prevent the possibility of changes. 
 
 2. A substitution of a character that has a certain 
 definite sound, for one that is more vague and inde- 
 terminate. Thus by putting ee instead of ca or ie, 
 the words mean, near, speak, grieve, zeal, would be- 
 come meen, neer, spcek, greev, zeel. This alteration 
 could not occasion a moment's trouble ; at the same 
 time it would prevent a doubt respecting the pro- 
 nunciation; whereas the ra and it having different 
 sounds, may give a learner much difficulty. Thus 
 greef should be substituted for grief ; kee for key ; 
 beleeit for believe ; laf for laugh ; dawter for daughter; 
 plena for plough ; tuffov tough ; proov for prove ; blud 
 for blooel; and draft for draught. In this manner eh 
 in Greek derivatives, should be changed into k ; for 
 the English ch has a soft sound, as hi cherish; but k 
 always a hard sound. Therefore character, chorus, 
 cholic, architecture, should be written karacter, korus, 
 kolic, arkiiecture ; and were they thus written, no 
 person could mistake their true pronunciation. 
 
 Thus ch in French derivatives should be changed 
 into sh ; 'machine, chaise, chevalier, should be writ- 
 ten masheen, shaze,shevaleer ; and pique, tour, obliejue, 
 should be written peek, toor, vbleek. 
 
 3. A trifling alteration in a character, or the ad- 
 dition of a point, would distinguish different sounds, 
 without the substitution of a new character. Thus 
 a very small stroke across th would distinguish its 
 two sounds. A point over a vowel in this manner, 
 a, or 6, or i, might answer all the purposes of differ- 
 ent letters. And for the dipthong ow, let the two 
 letters be united by a small stroke, or both engraven 
 on the same piece of metal, with the left hand line of I 
 the w united to the o. 
 
 These, with a few other inconsiderable alterations, 
 would answer every purpose, and render the ortho- 
 graphy sufficiently correct and regular. 
 
 Some of the motives urged for this reform are 
 curious. The simplicity of the language would 
 not only be secured and spelling be made easy 
 for children, and the pronunciation facilitated to 
 foreigners ; but such a reform would diminish the 
 number of letters about one sixteenth or eight- 
 eenth. This would save a page in eighteen; and 
 a saving of an eighteenth in the expense of books, 
 is an advantage that should not be overlooked. 
 The following suggestion is still more remarka- 
 ble :— 
 
 But a capital advantage of this reform in these 
 states would be, that it would make a difference be- 
 tween the English orthography and the American. 
 This will startle those who have not attended to the 
 subject ; but I am confident that such an event is an 
 object of vast political consequence. For, 
 
 The alteration, however small, would encourage 
 the publication of books in our own country. It 
 would render it, in some measure, necessary that all 
 books should be printed in America. The English 
 would never copy our orthography for their own 
 use ; and consequently the same impressions of books 
 would not answer for both countries. The inhabit- 
 ants of the present generation would read the Eng- 
 lish impressions ; but posterity, being taught a dif- 
 ferent spelling, would prefer the American orthogra- 
 phy- 
 
 If this suggestion could have been carried out, 
 it would have been necessary to have employed 
 
 a large body of translators in the work of turning 
 Shakespeare, Bacon, and Milton, into Ameri- 
 canese. 
 
 In 1789, he married the daughter of William 
 Greenleaf of Boston, and took up the pursuit of 
 the law at Stratford, which lie followed with suc- 
 cess for several years, till he was induced, on the 
 breaking out of the French excitement and the 
 difficulties with Genet, to undertake a daily news- 
 paper in New York in support of Washington's 
 administration. He removed to New York at 
 the close of 1793, and commenced the Minerva, 
 from the standing matter of which he published 
 a semi-weekly, the Herald, the first time this enter- 
 prise and economy had been practised. Out of 
 these papers grew the present Commercial Adver- 
 tiser and Spectator. In further defence of the 
 government, he publii-hed a pamphlet in 179-1 on 
 the Revolution in France; and the following 
 year sustained Jay's British Treat} 7 in a series of 
 papers, signed Curtins, two of which were from 
 the pen of James Kent, afterwards the Chancellor. 
 
 It was about this time that Webster published 
 his Prompter, a collection of common sayings, 
 maxims, &c, after the manner of Dr. Franklin, 
 in his little essays and Poor Richard aphorisms. 
 The title was borrowed from the theatre, and its 
 object was to remind the world of familiar but 
 easily neglected truths of a practical character. 
 Its twenty-nine brief chapters, comments upon 
 proverbs and fallacies, have point and good sense. 
 
 As evidence of his activity of mind, when the 
 questions connected with the then prevalent yel- 
 low fever agitated the country, he made researches 
 on the great subject, and published the result of 
 his investigations in two volumes, in 1799, enti- 
 tled a History of Epidemic and Pestilential Pis- 
 eases* When the question of the rights of neutral 
 nations arose, with the war of the French Revo- 
 lution, he published in 1802 a treatise on the 
 subject, and the same year, Historical Notices of 
 the Origin and State of Hanking Institutions 
 and Insurance Offices. 
 
 In 1798, Webster took up his residence in New 
 Haven, and soon retired altogether from the man- 
 agement of his New York journals. In 1802, he 
 published an essay on the Rights of Neutral Na- 
 tions, in reference to the outrages on American 
 commerce by the European powers during the 
 French Revolution. In 1800, lie published a 
 Dictionary of the English Language in octavo, 
 and the next year entered upon the preparation 
 of Ins most important work, An American Pic- 
 tionary of the English Language. For this work 
 he entered upon a comprehensive study of the 
 changes of language since the date of the last 
 great work of Dr. Johnson, applied himself to the 
 careful stud}' of definitions, and entered largely 
 upon the investigation of the origin and growth 
 of languages, in comparison of the vocabularies 
 of different nations. He prepared a work, still in 
 manuscript, A Syiiopsis of Words in Twenty 
 Languages. 
 
 From 1812 to 1822 Webster resided at Amherst, 
 Mass., when he returned to New Haven. 
 
 * A Brief History of Epidemic and Pestilential Disposes; 
 with the principal phenomena of the physical world, which 
 precede and accompany them, and observations deduced from 
 the facts stated. 2 vols. 8vo. Hartford: Hudson and Goodwin, 
 1799. 
 
NOAH WEBSTER. 
 
 477 
 
 He further, in 1824, made a tour to France anil 
 England, where he continued his researches at the 
 libraries of Paris and Cambridge. In 1828, when 
 he was at the age of seventy, his Dictionary finally 
 appeared, at New York, in two volumes quarto. 
 Twenty-five hundred were printed in America 
 and three thousand in England, where the publi- 
 cation was superintended by E. H. Barker, the 
 editor of Stephens's Greek Thesaurus. 
 
 Some fears had been entertained of Webster's 
 well known disposition to tamper with the esta- 
 blished orthography. An expression of them is 
 recorded in the Jay correspondence. A letter 
 which Webster wrote in 1813 to John Jay, who 
 had probably read the Essay on the American 
 Tongue, drew from that prudent statesman a hint 
 on the character of his labors : "It is not impro- 
 bable that doubts prevail respecting the de- 
 sign and tendency of the work you have in hand. 
 The literary productions of Britain and America 
 being interesting to each other, many are of 
 opinion, and I concur in it, that the English lan- 
 guage and its orthography should be the same in 
 both countries. Apprehensions have been enter- 
 tained that your dictionary would tend to impair 
 that sameness ; and those apprehensions may, to 
 a certain extent, have had an unfavorable influ- 
 ence."* To which Webster responded: "It is not 
 improbable that some ill-founded apprehensions 
 that I might attempt changes of orthography 
 have had their effect in preventing subscriptions; 
 but there are several other causes. On the sub- 
 ject of orthography gentlemen might have been 
 easy, as any considerable changes must prevent 
 the sale and use of a work of the sort, and they 
 might rationally conclude that I would not put 
 myself to an immense trouble and expense to 
 write a book which would not find purchasers. 
 My plan is different from anything before at- 
 tempted. I have examined and collated the radi- 
 cal words in twenty languages, including the 
 seven Asiatic languages, or rather dialects, of the 
 Assyrian stock. This will enable me to present 
 many things in the English language which have 
 hitherto been obscure. Indeed, this research has 
 opened a field entirely new, and it is probable will 
 lead to many important discoveries, not only in 
 the origin and affinity of languages, but in history 
 sacred and profane." 
 
 In 1821, he writes again to Jay of his "synop- 
 sis of radical words in more than twenty lan- 
 guages," which has occupied him ten years, and 
 regrets that "I did not begin my studies early 
 enough. I am now sixty -three years of age, and 
 after this age a small portion only of active life 
 remains. I have thought, that after submitting 
 my MSS. to able judges, if they should think the 
 work to have merit enough to command a sale in 
 England, I may visit that country, and attempt to 
 sell the copy there first; and, indeed, revise the 
 work at Oxford." t 
 
 The work was well received on its appearance, 
 and merited the attention by the neAv words added 
 which had come into use, by the increased num- 
 ber of definitions marking new uses of the lan- 
 guage, and by its labors in the wide field of 
 
 * Letter, Bedford, May 31, 1818. Life and Writings, ii. 357. 
 t Letter, Amherst. Mass., November, 1S21. Jay's Life, &c, 
 II. 421. 
 
 etymology. Something, it was felt, was due to 
 the single-handed perseverance of the Yankee 
 schoolmaster, now recognised as a successful 
 worker in the field where Dr. Johnson had gained 
 his most imposing laurels. Had Webster, with 
 his perseverance and energy, possessed a like de- 
 gree of sound judgment, his reputation would 
 have been unassailed. As it was, he was regarded 
 with suspicion, and frequently openly opposed: 
 for his well known views as a reformer of the 
 language laid him particularly open to attack; 
 since speech being common property, every one 
 was bound more or less to question his proceedings. 
 Though the dictionary bearing Webster's name is 
 now in very general use, it has secured this result 
 by the number of its words, and particularly the 
 extent of its scientific terms and the accuracy of 
 their definitions, in spite of the peculiar Webster- 
 isms of orthography. IBs mistake, as the com- 
 piler of a dictionary, at the outset was, in seeking 
 to amend the language, while his duty was simply 
 to record the use of words by the. best authors. 
 In the attempt to impose new conditions, and with 
 his American innovations, he placed himself be- 
 yond the recognition of the highest authorities of 
 the language in the universities of England and 
 the colleges of America. 
 
 His first dictionary, published in 1800, was vir- 
 tually ignored by himself, and his principles of 
 orthography must be gathered from his later pub- 
 lications. In view of the disturbance created in 
 the literary world by his innovations since 1828, 
 it would be natural to suppose that these innova- 
 tions were very numerous ; but such is not the 
 fact. The changes were few in number; but, 
 being applied to words in common use, they 
 gained a factitious importance by frequent repeti- 
 tion. His present system — carried out so incon- 
 sistently as scarcely to deserve the name, how- 
 ever — may be thus briefly stated : I. Finding that 
 many words of French origin terminating in re 
 had been in adaption transposed to er, as cider, 
 chamber, etc., he decided that all words so 
 adopted should be so transposed; and, accordingly, 
 changed spectre, theatre, etc., into specter and 
 theater, not reflecting that the changes previously 
 made had been confined to words which did not 
 require re-transposition in their derivatives ; and 
 Webster's inconsistency here was, that while he 
 wrote theater he also wrote theatrical. II. He 
 expunged the second I from traveller, libeller, etc., 
 because he deemed it superfluous ; and he added 
 a second I to foretel, distil, etc., because the 
 second I was wanted in the derivatives, fore- 
 telling, etc. In this latter change he laid down 
 the principle, that the spelling of the derivative 
 must govern the spelling of the primitive; and 
 yet, although in conformity to this rule, he also 
 changed defence, pretence, and offence, into defense 
 pretense, and offense, he omitted to change such 
 words as consequence, inference, sentence, etc., 
 while he retained the correct spelling of their de- 
 rivative*, consequential, sententious, etc. III. He 
 changed ton to tun, and did not change won to 
 wun ; he changed mould and moult to mold and 
 molt, and did not change court to cort ; and he 
 changed practise, the verb, to practice. This, 
 substantially, is Webster's orthographical reform.* 
 
 * Eadicalisra in Orthography, a series of articles from the 
 
478 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1833, Noah "Webster published his revised 
 edition of the Bible, with what he considered 
 improvements of the language.* It was a rash 
 and unnecessary attempt, and was not successful. 
 His design is thus expressed by himself in the 
 preface: "In my own view of this subject, a ver- 
 sion of the Scriptures for popular use should con- 
 sist of words expressing the sense which is most 
 common in popular usage, so that the first idea 
 suggested to the reader should be the true mean- 
 ing of such words, according to the original lan- 
 guages. That many words in the present version 
 fail to do this is certain. My principal aim is to 
 remedy this evil.'' This principle is enlarged 
 upon : " I have been careful to avoid unnecessary 
 innovations, and to retain the general character 
 of the style. The principal alterations are com- 
 prised in three classes : — 
 
 " I. The substitution of words and phrases now 
 in good use for such as are wholly obsolete, or 
 deemed below the dignity and solemnity of the 
 subject. 
 
 " II. The correction of errors in grammar. 
 
 "III. The insertion of euplmmisins [sic], words 
 and phrases which are not very offensive to deli- 
 cacy, in the place of such as cannot with propriety 
 be uttered before a promiscuous audience. 
 
 "A few errors in the translation which are ad- 
 mitted on all hands to be obvious have been cor- 
 rected. * * * 
 
 " To avoid giving offence to any denomination of 
 Christians, I have not knowingly made any altera- 
 tion in the passages of the present version on 
 which the different denominations rely for the 
 support of their tenets." 
 
 An enumeration of the " principal alterations " 
 is made in an Introduction. From this it appears 
 that u ho is substituted for which when it refers to 
 persons ; its is substituted for Ms when it refers 
 to plants and things without life; why is substi- 
 tuted for wherefore when inquiry is made ; my 
 and thy are generally substituted for mine and 
 thine when used as adjectives ; assemble, collect, 
 or convene for what Webster is pleased to call 
 " the tautological words " gather together ; know 
 or Jcneto for wist, wit, and wot; sixty for three 
 score, and eighty for four score. It would be a 
 melancholy task to continue the list. As such 
 attempts, however, may be made again, though 
 it is to be trusted with like ill-success, it is a 
 matter of duty to point out the radical defect of 
 mind which led to these rash suggestions. They 
 argue an essentially common, prosaic intellect, 
 deficient in taste, feeling, imagination ; wanting 
 in a knowledge of the subtle philosophical links 
 of association which have long attached the Eng- 
 lish-speaking world by a power which equally 
 holds heart and mind to the standard version of 
 the Holy Scriptures. "When "Webster substitutes 
 sixty for three score he says, " it appears to him 
 most eligible to retain but one mode of specifying 
 numbers," and adds his favorite maxim, that 
 " uniformity is preferable to diversity " — a most 
 
 pen of Edward S. Gould, Literary World, iv. 200, 270, 355, 457. 
 Senator Bcekmau's Minority Report in N, Y. Legislature, July 
 7, 1S51, ib, i.\. 67. 
 
 * The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments 
 in the Common Version. With amendments of the language 
 by Noah Webster, LL.D. New Haven: published by fiurrie 
 & Peck. Sold by Hezekiah Howe & Co. and A. H. Maltby, 
 New Haven, and by N. & J. White, New York, 1S38. 
 
 absurd statement in a world beneficently provided 
 with diversity on all sides. When he substitutes 
 that for would God, he is at the pains to destroy 
 the force of expression, as in the undying sound 
 of the lament of David, " O, my son Absalom, 
 my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died 
 for thee, O, Absalom, my son, my son! " which 
 he profanely alters to " O that I had died for 
 thee," stating, as a reason for the change, that 
 "the insertion of the phrases in the version has 
 given countenance to the practice of introducing 
 them into discourses and public speeches with a 
 levity that is incompatil le with a due veneration 
 for the name of God." For the same reason 
 there would be no rebgion at all, since infidels 
 have caricatured all that is sacred. The same 
 remarks apply to the unhappy substitution of By 
 no means, for God forbid. In the Sermon on (he 
 Mount, Noah Webster alters "Therefore take no 
 thought, saying, what shall we eat," into " There- 
 fore be not anxious," seeking to justify his med- 
 dlesome change by the plea that he is giving more 
 force to the expression. Such a remark as this 
 might be expected to proceed from a schoolbo}' 
 or a foreigner who had yet his acquaintance to 
 make with the language, rather than from a man 
 who had professedly passed his life in its stud}-. 
 Other alterations of archaisms, sr.ch as putting 
 male child for man child ; Jahehood for leasing ; 
 boiled for sodden ; creeping animal for creeping 
 thing (a creeping thing, he tells us, being "more 
 properly a creeping-plant than a reptile"); 
 advanced for stricken in age, and the like, on the 
 ground of accommodating the language to the 
 use of the day, show a similar unconsciousness of 
 the moral relations of the subject, and the advan- 
 tage of the Bible in providing a store-house of 
 words and securing the permanency of the lan- 
 guage. In the few cases in which the words of 
 the translation have grown obsolete, it is rather 
 an advantage than a disadvantage that there are 
 special terms set apart from common uses as es- 
 pecially biblical. The imagination is afl'ected by 
 them ; the sense of sanctity and awe is enhanced 
 by them. The poverty of mind which begets 
 such attempts leads so soon to indecorum and 
 what must be fain considered irreverence, that it 
 would be perhaps unwise here to pursue the sub- 
 ject further. A great literary and moral interest 
 is .involved in it. 
 
 In 1840, a new edition of the Dictionary ap- 
 peared, with several thousand new words added 
 and improvements in the scientific definitions, and 
 the introduction of phrases from foreign lan- 
 guages. 
 
 Early in 1843, the last year of his life, he gave 
 his attention to a revision of the appendix of his 
 Dictionary, adding several hundred words. He 
 had given thirty-six years to the work. 
 
 In 1843 he published, at New York, A Collec- 
 tion of Papers on Political, Literary, and Moral 
 Subjects. Its chief contents are a republication 
 of his tracts on the French Revolution, the Plight 
 of Search, the British Treaty, the Copyright 
 Question, and a number of papers on topics of 
 politics and education. 
 
 This was at the close of a long life spent with 
 unwearied activity in the pursuit of knowledge. 
 With his faculties unimpaired, in the cheerful 
 retrospect of a life of happy employment, and 
 
NOAH WORCESTER. 
 
 479 
 
 with the consolations of religion, he expired, after 
 a brief illness, at New Haven, May 28, 1843, in 
 his eighty-fifth year."' 
 
 Of Webster's plain habits of living, anil of his 
 time given to study, there is a quaint account in 
 a letter from his pen, dated November 21, 1836, 
 addressed to Dr. Thomas Miner, in answer to an 
 inquiry as to his mode of life, in which he says: — 
 
 I have never been a hard student, unless a few 
 years may be excepted ; but I have been a steady, 
 persevering student. I have rarely used lamp or 
 eandle light, except once, when reading law, and 
 then I paid dear for my imprudence, for I injured 
 my eyes. My practice lias usually been to rise 
 about half an hour before the sun, and make use of 
 all the light of that luminary. Bat I have never or 
 rarely been in a hurry. When I first undertook the 
 business of supporting General Washington's ad- 
 ministration, I labored too hard in writing or trans- 
 lating from the French papers for my paper, or hi 
 composing pamphlets, In two instances I was so 
 exhausted that I expected to die, for I could not per- 
 ceive any pulsation ill the radial artery ; but I re- 
 covered. While engaged in composing my Diction- 
 ary, I w:is often so much excited by the discoveries 
 1 made, that my pulse, whose ordinary action is 
 scarcely 60 beats to the minute, was accelerated to 
 80 or 85. 
 
 My exercise has not been violent nor regular. 
 While I was in Amherst I cultivated a little land, 
 and used to work at making hay, and formerly I 
 worked in my garden, which I cannot now do. 
 Until within a few years, I used to make my fires in 
 the morning, but I never or rarely walked before 
 breakfast. My exercise is now limited to walking 
 about the city to purchase supplies for my family. 
 For a part of my life, the last forty years, I have 
 had a horse of my own, but I never rode merely for 
 health; and a part of the time, more than half, I 
 have not been able to keep a horse. My eyes have, 
 from a child, been subject to a slight inflammation, 
 but the sight has been good. I began to use spec- 
 tacles when fifty years of age, or a little more, and 
 that was the time when I began to study and pre- 
 pare materials for my Dictionary. I had had the 
 subject in contemplation some years before, and had 
 made memorandums on the margin of Johnson's 
 Dictionary, but I did not 6et myself to the work till 
 I wore spectacles. 
 
 When I finished my copy I was sitting at my 
 table in Cambridge, England, January, 1825. When 
 I arrived at the last word, I was seized with a tremor 
 that made it difficult to proceed. I, however, sum- 
 moned up strength to finish the work, and then 
 walking about the room I soon recovered, f 
 
 NOAH WORCESTER 
 
 Was born at Hollis, K H, November 25, 1758. 
 He was of an old ecclesiastical family in New 
 England. His father, of the same name, was an 
 influential magistrate of New Hampshire. His 
 brother Leonard was bred a printer, and for a 
 time edited the Massachusetts Spy at Worcester. 
 Noah, who in later life was called " The Apos- 
 tle of Peace," was in youth a fifer at Bunker 
 Hill, and was also in the battle of Bennington. 
 At eighteen he was teaching in the village school 
 of Plymouth, N. H, and pursued that calling for 
 nine successive winter-. To accomplish himself 
 in penmanship, in the scarcity of paper during 
 
 * National Portrait Gallery, ii. 
 t New Englander, i. 568. 
 
 Ed. 1S54 
 
 the war, he wrote over a quantity of white birch 
 bark. In 1778, according to the primitive usage 
 of an agricultural and thinly peopled region, and 
 the old Puritan religious ideas of the family, he 
 purchased of his father the remainder of his 
 minority,* and left for Plymouth. In 1782 he 
 removed to Thornton, where he was a preacher 
 from 1780 to 1810. Ho had commenced his 
 career as a writer with a controversial letter to 
 the Rev. John Murray, on his sermon on the 
 " Origin of Evil." In 1810 he published his Uni- 
 tarian e;say, which he entitled Bible News of the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in a series of let- 
 ters, in four parts. This work brought upon him 
 much opposition, to mitigate which he wrote his 
 letters to Trinitarians in favor of tolerance and 
 personal kindness among those who differed in 
 religious opinions. He wrote at this time for the 
 journals: for the Theological Magazine, in New 
 York, a series of papers, The Variety ; in a peri- 
 odical at Concord, and in the newspapers. 
 
 In 1813 he removed to Brighton, near Boston; 
 his friends, Dr Charming, Dr. Lowell, Dr. Tuck- 
 erman, and the Rev. S. C. Thacher, having made 
 provision for him as editor of the Christian Dis- 
 ciple, which grew afterwards into the present 
 Christian Examiner. It was a monthly periodi- 
 cal, "for the promotion of spiritual and moral 
 improvement." It was conducted by him to the 
 close of 1818. Be here uttered his ideas on the 
 Peace Question, which ho had publicly stated in 
 the war of 1812, in a sermon on the pacific con- 
 duct of Abraham and Lot, in avoiding hostilities 
 between their herdsmen, delivered on the day 
 appointed by Madison for a national fast. In 
 1814: he published his tract, A Solemn Review of 
 the Custom of War. The Massachusetts Peace 
 Society was founded in the following year. In 
 pursuance of his views he began the publication 
 of The Friend, of Peace in 1819, and continued 
 it, in quarterly numbers, for ten years. It was 
 mostly written by himself. In 1821) he resumed 
 his theological publications with a small volume, 
 
 The Atoning Sacrifice, a display of Love not of 
 Wrath; and, in 1831, a small book on The 
 Causes and Evils of Contentions among Christians. 
 In 1833 he published a volume, Last Thoughts on 
 
 * Memoirs by the Rev. Henry Ware, p. 9. 
 
4S0 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Important Subjects; in three parts. 1. Man's 
 Liability to Sin ; 2. Supplemental Illustrations; 
 3. Maiis Capacity to Obey. He was now at the 
 extreme period of life, in the enjoyment of a hap- 
 py, tranquil old age. Channing, who has cele- 
 brated his career in his noble eulogy entitled the 
 Philanthropist, speaks of the serenity of his life, 
 in the midst of his reformatory opinions and con- 
 troversial writings, and of the "sufficiency of his 
 mind to its own happiness."* His personal ap- 
 pearance was remarkable, of a large frame and 
 benign expression. He died at Brighton, Massa- 
 chusetts, October 81, 1837, aged 79. 
 
 His chief reputation rests on his Peace Efforts, 
 and his position in the transition stage of Puri- 
 tanism to Unitarianism. 
 
 JOHN ARMSTRONG, 
 
 TnE author of the " Newburgh Letters" and 
 the historian of the second war with England, 
 was a native of Pennsylvania, born at Carlisle, 
 Nov. 25, 1758. His father was an officer of 
 distinction in the war with France in 1755. On 
 the breaking out of the Revolution young Arm- 
 strong, then a student at the college of New 
 Jersey, joined the camp as a volunteer at the age 
 of eighteen. He was appointed aide-de-camp to 
 General Mercer, who was borne in his arms, 
 fatally wounded, from the field at the battle of 
 Princeton. He was next invited to become aide 
 to General Gates, and served with him through 
 the campaign which closed at Saratoga. In 
 1780, he was appointed Adjutant General of 
 the Southern army, but retired from this service 
 in consequence of illness before the battle of 
 Camden, resuming his position with General 
 Gates, as aide, with the rank of Major. 
 
 When the war was ended he had an opportu- 
 nity to give proof of his ability with the pen in 
 his authorship' of the celebrated Nacburyli Let- 
 ters, dated from the camp at that place. The 
 design of these addresses was to arouse the army 
 to a vigorous assertion of their claims, which in 
 the imperfect organization of the general govern- 
 ment it was necessary should be loudly urged to 
 obtain a hearing. There were two of these 
 " addresses," one dated in the camp at Newburgh, 
 the 10th March, 1783, inviting a meeting of 
 officers for the consideration of measures to 
 redress the army grievances, in the neglect of 
 pay by Congress, which employed this bold 
 language : — 
 
 " If this then be your treatment, while the swords 
 you wear are necessary for the defence of America, 
 what have you to expect from peace, when your 
 voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by 
 division ; when those very swords, the instruments 
 and companions of your glory, shall be taken from 
 your sides, and no remaining mark of military dis- 
 tinction left but your wants, infirmities, and scars? 
 Can you then consent, to be the only sufferers by 
 this revolution, and retiring from the field, grow old 
 in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt? Can you 
 consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency, 
 and owe the miserable remnant of that life to 
 charity, which has been hitherto spent in honor? 
 If you can, go, and carry with you the jest of 
 Tories and the scorn of Whigs ; the ridicule, and 
 
 * Channing's Works, iv. 8ST. 
 
 what is worse, the pity of the world Go starve 
 and be forgotten. But if your spirits should revolt 
 at this ; if you have sense enough to discover and 
 spirit sufficient to oppose tyranny, under whatever 
 garb it may assume, whether it be the plain coat of 
 republicanism or the splendid robe of royalty; if 
 you have yet learned to discriminate between a 
 people and a cause, between men and principles; 
 awake, attend to your situation, and redress 3'our- 
 selvesl If the present moment be lost, every future 
 effort is in vain ; and your threats will then be as 
 empty as your entreaties now. 
 
 I would advise you, therefore, to come to some 
 final opinion upon what you can bear, and what 
 you will suffer. If your determination be in any 
 proportion to your wrongs, carry your appeal from 
 the justice to the fears of government. Change 
 the milk-and-water style of your last memorial. 
 Assume a bolder tone, decent, but lively, spirited, 
 and determined; and suspect the man wdio would 
 advise to more moderation and longer forbearance. 
 Let two or three men, who can feel as well as write, 
 be appointed to draw up your last remonstrance, 
 for I would no longer give it the suing, soft, unsuc- 
 cessful epithet of memorial. Let it represent in 
 language that will neither dishonor you by its 
 rudeness, nor betray you by its fears, what has 
 been promised by Congress, and what has been 
 performed ; how long and how patiently you have 
 suffered ; how little you have asked, and how much 
 of that little has been denied. Tell them, that 
 though you were the first, and would wish to be 
 last, to encounter danger, though despair itself can 
 never drive you into dishonor, it may drive you 
 from the field ; that the wound, often irritated and 
 never healed, may at length become incurable ; and 
 that the slightest mark of indignity from Congress 
 now must operate like the grave, and part you for 
 ever; that, in any political event, the arm}' has its 
 alternative. If peace, that nothing shall separate 
 you from your arms but deatli ; if war, that court- 
 ing the auspices, and inviting the direction of your 
 illustrious leader, you will retire to some unsettled 
 country, smile in your turn, " and mock when their 
 fear cometh on." But let it represent, also, that 
 should they comply with the request of your late 
 memorial, it would make you more happy and them 
 more respectable ; that, while war should continue, 
 you would follow their standard into the field; and 
 when it came to an end, you would withdraw into 
 the shade of private life, and give the world another 
 subject of wonder and applause ; an army victorious 
 over its enemies, victorious over itself. 
 
 Washington, who was in camp, met this inflam- 
 matory proceeding by his general orders forbid- 
 ding the meeting, and calling an assembly of 
 officers to hear the report of the committee sent 
 to Congress, when a second address appeared 
 turning to account this apparent sanction of the 
 gathering. Washington overruled the threatened 
 embarrassment by himself attending the meeting, 
 securing the quiet of Gates by placing him in the 
 chair, and rallying his faithful brother officers to 
 his support.* 
 
 AVashington read an address to the officers at 
 the meeting, in which the whole matter was 
 treated with dignitv and feeling, and in the 
 
 * Hildreth's TJ. S.. First Scries, iii. 431. Cllrtls's ITistory of 
 the Constitution, i. 1GS. where the styie of the Newburgh 
 Addresses is highly spoken of: — "They nre written with great 
 point and vigor of expression, and great purity of English. 
 For the purpose for which they were designed, — a direct 
 appeal to feeling, — they show the hand of a master." 
 
GEORGE R. 1IINOT. 
 
 4S1 
 
 course of which, while the arguments and pro- 
 posals of " the anonymous addresser" were an- 
 swered with respect, it was intimated that he 
 was " an insidious foe — some emissary, perhaps, 
 from New York, sowing the seeds of discord and 
 separation hetween the civil and military powers 
 of the continent." 
 
 At the time of making this address, Washing- 
 ton was not acquainted with the anonymous 
 author. He afterwards, in writing to General 
 Armstrong, Feb. 23, 1797, expressed his confi- 
 dence in the good motives which had dictated 
 the letters, as "just, honorable, and friendly to 
 the country, though the means suggested were 
 certainly liable to much misunderstanding and 
 abuse."* 
 
 After the war Armstrong held the post of 
 Secretary of Pennsylvania, under Dickenson and 
 Franklin. In 1787, he was elected member of 
 Congress. In 1780, upon his marriage with a 
 sister of Chancellor Livingston, he took up his 
 residence in Dutchess County in the State of 
 New York, where he occupied himself with farm- 
 ing. In 1800, he was elected senator of the 
 United States, and in 1804, was appointed by 
 Jefferson minister to France, an arduous position, 
 which he filled till 1810, during which time he 
 discharged the duties of a separate mission to 
 Spain. 
 
 When the war of 1812 was declared, he was 
 appointed brigadier-general in the United States 
 army, and commanded the district including the 
 city and harbor of New York. In 1813, he was 
 called by Madison to the Secretaryship of War. 
 The difficulties which he encountered in the 
 management of attempts against Canada, and the 
 destruction of Washington, led to his resignation 
 in 1814. He suffered at the time the odium 
 resulting from these disasters, which threw into 
 the shade his undoubtedly honorable and faithful 
 services. 
 
 In his retirement at Red Hook, where he 
 passed the subsequent years of his life, he wrote 
 treatises on Gardening and Agriculture, a review 
 of Wilkinson's Memoirs, several biographical 
 notices, and N~otir.cs of the War of 1812, the 
 first volume of which was published in 1836, and 
 the second in 1840. In this work he reviews the 
 conduct of the war with a forcible and discrimi- 
 nating pen, sharpened by the official experiences 
 of his own career a-i secretary. It possesses the 
 interest of an original critical disquisition on a 
 most important period of our history, and its 
 points will continue to furnish the text for pro- 
 longed comment. 
 
 Gen. Armstrong died at his country residence 
 on the Hudson, April 1, 1843, in his eighty-fifth 
 year.f 
 
 GEOEGE E. MINOT. 
 George Richards, the son of Stephen Minot, a 
 merchant of Boston, was born in that city Decem- 
 ber 22, 1758. His father's means having been 
 impaired by unsuccessful business speculation, it 
 was with difficulty that lie secured a liberal edu- 
 cation. He was prepared for college by the oele- 
 
 * SparkB's Washington, viil. 566. 
 
 t Encyclopaedia Americana, vol. xiv. Lossing's Field Book, 
 u. 106. 
 
 vor.. i.— 31 
 
 brated Master Lovell ; completed his course with 
 the highest honors at Harvard, in 1778 : and on 
 taking the degree of Master of Arts, delivered the 
 valedictory oration in Latin, which was much ad- 
 mired for its eloquence and purity of language. 
 
 He studied law with Fisher Ames in the office of 
 William Tudor. Soon after commencing practice 
 he was made, in 1781, Clerk of the House of Re- 
 presentatives, under the recently formed constitu- 
 tion ; in 1782 he was appointed judge of probate for 
 the county of Suffolk ; and in 1800, of the Munici- 
 pal Court in Boston. In 1783, he married Mary 
 Speakman, of Marlboro'. In 1788, he published 
 the History of the Rebellion in Massachusetts in 
 1786 ; a work which attracted great attention 
 from its interest, its dispassionate tone, and the 
 elegance and purity of its style; and in 17U8, the 
 first volume of a, History of the Province of 
 Massachusetts Bay, from 1748 to 1765, in conti- 
 nuation of that of Hutchinson. The second vo- 
 lume was printed from his manuscripts shortly 
 after his death, which occurred after a short ill- 
 ness on the second of January, 1802. He was 
 also the author of an oration on the Boston Mas- 
 sacre ; of a highly finished and impassioned dis- 
 course on the death of Washington ; and an 
 address before the Massachusetts Charitable So- 
 ciety. He was one of the founders of the Massa- 
 chusetts Historical Society, and edited three of 
 the early volumesof their collections. His history 
 is a well written, laborious, and impartial work. 
 Its author was noted, in addition to his writings, 
 for his fine taste, elegant personal appearance, the 
 amiability and uprightness of his character, and 
 the hospitality of his mansion.* 
 
 TREATMENT OF THE ACADIAN8, 1755. 
 
 The French force in Nova-Scotia being thus sub- 
 dued, it only remained to determine the measures 
 which ought tobetakea with respect to the inhabit- 
 ants, who were about seven thousand in number, 
 and whose character and situation were so peculiar, 
 as to distinguish them from almost every other com- 
 munity, that has suffered under the scourge of war. 
 
 The allegations against them as a people, and 
 which were undoubtedly just against many of thera 
 as individuals, were these : That being permit- 
 ted to hold their lands, after the treaty of Utrecht, 
 by which the Province was ceded to Great-Britain, 
 upou condition of their taking the oath of allegiance, 
 they refused to comply, excepting with this qualifi- 
 cation, that they should not be called upon to bear 
 arms in the defence of the Province ; which qualifi- 
 cation, though acceded to by Gen. Phillips, the 
 British commander, was disapproved of by the 
 king : That from this circumstance they affected the 
 character of neutrals, yet furnished the French and 
 Indians with intelligence, quarters, provisions and 
 assistance in annoying the government of the Pro- 
 vince, and three hundred of them were actually 
 found in arms at the taking of fort Beau-sejour: 
 That notwithstanding an offer was made, to such of 
 them as had not been openly in arms, to be allowed 
 to continue in possession of their land, if they would 
 take tlie oath of allegiance without any qualification, 
 they unanimously refused it.< 
 
 The character of this people was mild, frugal, in- 
 
 * Loring's Hundred Boston Orators, p. 14C, . 
 
4S3 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dustrious and pious; and a scrupulous sense of the 
 indissoluble nature of their ancient obligation to 
 their king, was a great cause of their misfortunes. 
 To this we may add an unalterable attachment to 
 their religion, a distrust of the right of the English 
 to the territory which they inhabited, and the in- 
 demnity promised them at the surrender of fort 
 Beau-scjour. Notwithstanding which, there could 
 be no apology for such of them as, after they had 
 obtained the advantages of neutrality, violated the 
 conditions on which they were granted, and without 
 which, from the nature of the case, there was no 
 just foundation to expect they would be continued. 
 
 Such being the circumstances of the French Neu- 
 trals, as they were called, the Lieutenant Governor 
 •of Nova-Scotia and his Council, aided by the admi- 
 rals Boscawen and Mostyn, assembled to consider of 
 the necessary measures to be adopted towards them. 
 If the whole were to suffer for the conduct of a part, 
 the natural punishment would have been to have 
 forced them from their country, and left them to go 
 wherever they pleased ; but from the situation of 
 the Province of Canada, it was obvious to see that 
 this would have been to recruit it witli soldiers, who 
 would immediately have returned in arms upon the 
 British frontiers. It was therefore determined to 
 remove and disperse this whole people amo: g the 
 British Colonies, where they could not unite in any 
 offensive measures, and where they might be natu- 
 ralized to the government'and country. 
 
 The execution of this unusual and general sentence 
 was allotted chiefly to the JSew England forces, the 
 commander of which, from the humanity and firm- 
 ness of his character, was the best qualified to carry 
 it into effect It was without doubt, as he himself 
 declared, disagreeable to his natural make and tern- | 
 per ; and his principles of implicit obedience as a 
 soldier were put to a severe test by this ungrateful 
 kind of duty, which required an ungenerous cun- 
 ning, and subtle kind of severity, calculated to ren- 
 der the Acadians subservient to the English interests 
 to the latest hour. They were kept entirely igno- 
 rant of their destiny until the moment of their 
 captivity, and were overawed or allured to labour 
 at the gathering in of their harvest, which was se- 
 cretly allotted to the use of their conquerors. The 
 orders from Lieutenant Governor Lawrence to Capt. 
 Murray, who was first on the station, witli a plagia- 
 rism of the language without the spirit of scripture, 
 directed that if tliese people behaved amiss, they 
 should be punished at his discretion ; and if any at- 
 tempts were made to destroy or molest the troops, 
 he should take an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a 
 tooth, and in short, life for life, from the nearest 
 neighbour where the mischief should be per- 
 formed. 
 
 The convenient moment having arrived, the inha- 
 bitants were called into the different ports to hear 
 the king's orders, as they were termed. At Grand 
 Pre, where Col. Winslow had the immediate com- 
 mand, four hundred and eighteen of their best men 
 assembled. These being shut into the church, (for 
 that too had become an arsenal) he placed himself 
 with his officers in the centre, and addressed them 
 thus : — 
 
 Gentlemex, 
 
 I have received from his Excellency Governor 
 Lawrence, the King's commission, which I have in 
 my hand; and by his orders you are convened toge- 
 ther, to manifest to you his Majesty's final resolution 
 to the French inhabitants of this his Province of 
 Nova-Scotia; who for almost half a century have had 
 more indulgence granted them, than any of his sub- 
 jects in any part of his dominions. What use you 
 have made of it, you yourselves best know. 
 
 The part of duty I am now upon, though necessa- 
 ry, is very disagreeable to my natural make and 
 temper, as I know it must be grievous to you who 
 are of the same species. 
 
 But it is not my business to animadvert, but to obey 
 such orders as I receive, and therefore, without hesi- 
 tation, shall deliver you his Majesty's orders and in- 
 structions, namely, 
 
 "That your lands and tenements, cattle of all 
 kinds, and live stock of ail sorts, are forfeited to the 
 crown, with all other your effects, saving your money 
 and household goods, and you yourselves to be re- 
 moved from this his Province." 
 
 Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty's orders, that 
 the whole French inhabitants of tliese districts be 
 removed, and I am, through his Majesty's goodness, 
 directed to allow you liberty to carry off your mo- 
 ney and household goods, as many as you can with- 
 out discommoding the vessels you go in. I shall do 
 every thing in my power, that all those goods be se- 
 cured to you, and that you are not molested in car- 
 rying them off: also that whole families shall go in 
 the same vessel ; and make this remove, which I am 
 sensible must give you a great deal of trouble, as 
 easy as his Majesty's service will admit, and hope, 
 that in whatever part of the world you may fall, 
 you may be faithful subjects, a peaceable and happy 
 people. 
 
 I must also inform you, that it is his Majesty's 
 pleasure that you. remain in security, under the in- 
 spection and direction of the troops that I have the 
 honour to command. 
 
 And he then declared them the King's prisoners. 
 
 The whole number of persons collected at Grand 
 Pre, finally amounted to 483 men and 337 women, 
 heads of families, and their sous and daughters to 
 527 of the former, and 576 of the latter, making in 
 the whole 1923 sonis. Their stock was upwards of 
 5,000 horned cattle, 493 horses, and 12,887 sheep 
 and swine. 
 
 As some of these wretched inhabitants escaped to 
 the woods, all possible measures were adopted to 
 force them back to captivity. The country was laid 
 waste to prevent their subsistence. In the district 
 of Minas alone, there were destroyed 255 houses, 
 27(i barns, 155 out-houses, 11 mills and 1 church ; 
 and the friends of those who refused to come in, 
 were threatened as the victims of their obstinacy. 
 In short, so operative were the terrors that surround- 
 ed them, that of twenty-four young men who de- 
 serted from a transport, twenty-two were glad to re- 
 turn of themselves, the others being shot by senti- 
 nels; and one of their friends who was supposed to 
 have been accessary to their escape, having been 
 carried on shore, to behold the destruction of his 
 house and effects, which were burned in his pre- 
 sence, as a punishment for his temerity, and perfidi- 
 ous aid to his comrades. Being embarked by force 
 of the musquetry, they were dispersed, according to 
 the original plan, among the several British Colo- 
 nies. One thousand arrived in Massachusetts Bay 
 and became a public expense, owing in a great de- 
 gree to an unchangeable antipathy to their situation, 
 which prompted them to reject the usual beneficiary 
 but humiliating establishment of paupers for their 
 children. 
 
 The campaign ended with no small disgust on the 
 part of the New England commander and his troops, 
 on account of distinctions in service made between 
 the regulars and them, to their prejudice ; and en- 
 listments being made out of his corps to fill up the 
 standing regiments, which prevented his fulfilling 
 his promise to bring his men back to their towns at 
 the expiration of a year, a promise much relied upon 
 and necessary to be performed for future exertions. 
 
SARAH WENTWORTH MORTOX— WILLIAM DUAXE. 
 
 4S3 
 
 BAEAH WENTWOllTII MORTON. 
 Saeah Wentworth Apthoupe married, in 177S, 
 Perez Morton.* She was a constant contributor 
 
 of short poems to the Massachusetts Magazine, 
 and obtained a vaunted reputation in those days 
 under the signature of Philenia, part of which 
 was no doubt dne to the vigorous laudatory exer- 
 tions of her friend and poetical correspondent, 
 Robert Treat Paine, Jr., by whom she was styled 
 the American Sappho. She was also the author 
 of Ouabi, or the Virtues of Nature, an Indian 
 Tale in four cantos, published in 17'JO, and of an 
 octavo volume which appeared in 1823, entitled 
 My Mind and its Thoughts, made up of pro- 
 verb-like reflections in prose, arranged with great 
 formality, and a number of poems. Her chief 
 production, Ouabi, is a pastoral, the characters of 
 which are Ouabi, the chief of an Indian tribe, 
 Azalia an Indian maiden, and Celario a young 
 Englishman. Celario, who has joined the red 
 men, is perplexed by a divided duty between his 
 affections for Azalia and his respect for the noble 
 Ouabi, to whom she is betrothed. Fidelity pre- 
 vails over passion, when Ouabi, having been taken 
 prisoner by a hostile band, is rescued while sing- 
 ing his death-song by Celario, resigns his mistress 
 to his deliverer, and is soon after slain in battle. 
 The pamphlet of fifty-two pages closes with a 
 few " Lines addressed to the inimitable author of 
 the Poems under the signature of Delia Orusca" 
 productions of which Mrs. Morton was an ad- 
 mirer and imitator. 
 
 BONG FOR THE PUUHC CELEBRATION OF THE NATIONAL PEACE. 
 
 Not for the blood-polluted car 
 
 Wake the triumphant so:ig of fame, 
 
 But for the Chief who spares the war, 
 Toueh'd by a suffering people's claim. 
 
 Hail Columbia! Columbia blest, and free, 
 
 The Star of Empire leads to thee.f 
 
 Let the rich laurel's baneful green 
 Bright on the warrior's front appear, 
 
 But olive in his path be seen, 
 
 Whose gemus gives the prosperous year. 
 
 Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free, 
 
 The Star of Empire breaks on thee. 
 
 Diffused around the sacred skies, 
 The electric ray of hope extends, 
 
 On every wing of commerce flies, 
 
 And to the earth's green lap descends. 
 
 Hail Columbia! Columbia blest and free, 
 
 The Star of Empire beams on thee. 
 
 Empire, that travels wide and far, 
 Sheds her last glories on the west — 
 
 Born 'mid the morning realms of war, 
 She loves the peaceful evening best. 
 
 * Perez Morton was born at Plymouth. November 13. 1751. 
 He was a graduate <>f Harvard in "1771, was a member of the 
 Committee of Safety in 1775, and an active- public man during 
 the war. On the eighth of April, 17711. he delivered a funeral 
 oration over the remains of General Warren, which Were identi- 
 fied as the British were engaged in burying the dead after the 
 battle, by the barber who had been accustomed to dress his 
 hair, and on their exhumation, on the evacuation of the British 
 troops ten months after, by a false tooth. The oration was an 
 animated, although somewhat too ornate production. At its 
 clo-e. he commenced the practice of the law. He was Speaker 
 of the State House" of Representatives from 1806 to 1811, and 
 Attorney-General from 1810 to 1882. He died at Dorchester, 
 October 14, 1S37. 
 
 t It will probably be perceived, that the chorus of the above 
 song is in allusion to Bishop Berkeley's prophecy :— •■ West- 
 ward the coarse of empire," &c. — Author's Note. 
 
 Hail Columbia! Columbia blest and free, 
 The Star of Empire rests on thee ! 
 
 Then let the pledge of Freedom pass, 
 While every patriot bosom glows, 
 
 And o'er the elevated glass 
 
 The amber of the vintage flows. 
 
 Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free, 
 
 The Star of Empire falls with thee. 
 
 WILLIAM DUANE. 
 
 William Duane was born in 1760, near Lako 
 Chaiuplain, Xew York, where his parents, natives 
 of Ireland, had shortly before settled. When 
 he was eleven years old his mother returned 
 to her native country, taking William, her only 
 child, with her. The father had died several years 
 before. Possessed of property, she brought up 
 her son as a person of leisure. At the age of 
 nineteen, by a marriage with a Presbyterian he 
 offended his parent, a Roman Catholic, and was at 
 once dismissed from her home, nor was any re- 
 conciliation ever after effected. Forced to pro- 
 vide for the maintenance of his family, he learnt 
 the art of printing, and was engaged in that trade 
 until the year 1784, when he went to India to 
 seek his fortune. He was successful, and in a 
 few years established a newspaper entitled The 
 World. In a dispute which arose between the 
 government and some troops in their employ, the 
 paper sided with the latter. Soon after this tho 
 editor was invited by Sir John Shaw, the gover- 
 nor,' to breakfast. On his way to accept the in- 
 vitation, he was seized by sepoys, placed on board 
 a vessel, and carried to England. His valuable 
 property was confiscated. He endeavored to ob- 
 tain redress from Parliament and the East India 
 Company, but without success. Again forced to 
 provide for ali velihood, he became a parliamentary 
 reporter, and afterwards editor of the General 
 Advertiser, a newspaper which subsequently be- 
 came the London Times. He sided in politics 
 with the party of Home Tooke and others. In 
 1795 he came with his family to Philadelphia, 
 where he had passed a i'^w years when a boy. 
 Here he prepared a portion of a work on the 
 French Revolution, and became connected with 
 the Aurora newspaper, recently established by 
 Benjamin Franklin Bache, and after Bache's 
 death of yellow fever in 1798, became editor. 
 Under his vigorous management the journal was 
 known throughout the country as the loading 
 organ of the democratic party. Jefferson at- 
 tributed his election to the presidency to its ex- 
 ertions. In 1701) the editor was tried with others 
 for seditious riot. They were charged with 
 placing at the doors of a Roman Catholic church 
 printed notices requesting the congregation to 
 meet in the church-yard and sign a petition 
 against the Alien Law. The notices were torn 
 down, replaced and defended, and a disturbance 
 thus created, during which Reynolds, one of the 
 parties accused, drew a pistol against one of the 
 congregation, which was forced from his hand. 
 The parties were acquitted. 
 
 On the removal of the seat of government to 
 Washington, the Aurora became a les-s influential 
 journal, and was gradually superseded by rival 
 publications at the new city. Duane continued 
 in the editorship until 1822, when he sold out 
 and went to South America, as the representative; 
 
484 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of the creditors of the republics of that continent. 
 He had sided with the struggles for independence 
 of these communities, and received a vote of 
 thanks from the Congress of Columbia for his ex- 
 ertions, and it was on this account supposed that 
 he would he able to obtain a settlement of the 
 claims in question. He was unable to collect any 
 funds, but made good use of the experiences of 
 his journey, by publishing a pleasant volume of 
 travels, A Visit to Columbia in 1822-23 : Phila. 
 1826. After his return he was appointed Protho- 
 notary of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania for 
 the eastern district, and retained the office until 
 his death in 1835. 
 
 In addition to his newspaper writings and his 
 hook of travel <, he was the author of A Military 
 Dictionary, 1810, -And A Hand-book for Riflemen, 
 1813. These works on tactics were for some 
 time recognised as the chief authorities on the 
 subject, one in which their author was practically 
 as well as theoretically conversant, having com- 
 manded for some time the Philadelphia Legion, a 
 volunteer corps distinguished for superior disci- 
 pline, and during the war in 1812—14 filled the 
 office of Adjutant-General of the army for the 
 district in winch he was resident.* 
 
 JACOB CAMPBELL 
 
 Was a lawyer of Rhode Island, who cultivated 
 poetry and literature in the intervals of his 
 business pursuits. He belonged to a family who, 
 with others from Scotland, settled at Voluntown, 
 in Connecticut, early in the eighteenth century. 
 His father, Archibald, came to East Greenwich, 
 Rhode Island, where Jacob was born in 1760. 
 He was a graduate of the Rhode Island College 
 of 1783, for a time was preceptor of a classical 
 school, and next studied law with General James 
 M. Varnum. On the establishment of peace in 
 1783, Campbell delivered a public address at East 
 Greenwich, at the announcement of that event. 
 He celebrated the same theme in some verses, 
 which are published in a volume from his pen of 
 Poetical Essays. 
 
 Updike, in his Memoirs of the Rhode Island 
 Bar, speaks of Campbell as " proud-spirited and 
 occasionally dejected ; — of a mind sensitive and 
 nervous, he was borne down with fancied suspi- 
 cions of intended injury and neglect.''t He died 
 in Ids twenty-eighth year, March 5, 1788. 
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 Sweet Liberty ! descend thou Heaven-born fair, 
 And make Columbia thy distinguish' d care; 
 On her brave sons thy genial influence shed, 
 "Who fired by thee have nobly fought and bled — 
 Have traversed wilds to distant climes afar. 
 And felt the horrors of oppressive war. 
 Who first have taught Britannia's troops to yield, 
 And snatched their standards from the crimsoned 
 
 field. 
 Bright Goddess leave thy native skies once more, 
 And fix thy dwellii g on this western shore ; 
 A calm asylum here's prepared for thee, 
 Secured from tyrants, undisturbed and free; — 
 
 * State Trials of the L'nited States during the Administra- 
 tions of Washington and Adams, with references, historical and 
 professional, and preliminary notes on the politics of the times. 
 By Francis Wharton. Phila. 1S49. 
 
 t Memoirs of the Khode Island Bar, bvWilkins Updike, p. 
 134. 
 
 By thine assistance we've expell'd thy foes, 
 Whose grasping power annoyed thy sweet repose. 
 
 Lo, see her quit the blissful realms above, 
 Mark on her face the cheering smile of love ; 
 See as she bends her winged course this way 
 A beauteous sight her snowy robes display ; 
 In her right hand a sceptred wand she rears, 
 And in her left a cone-like mitre bears. 
 Now let us shout through this exulting band, 
 And hail her welcome to our joyful land. 
 Let the glad tidings through our coasts resound, 
 From rocks and mountains let the echo bound, 
 Let hills and vallies loud responses raise, 
 Let woods and forests ring in loftier praise, — 
 Fair Freedom we with joy confess thy sway, 
 Thy milder laws with pleasure we obey. 
 
 To this she listened with attentive ear, 
 Then spake in accents soft as vernal air : — 
 " I've discord seen thy country long embroil, 
 Thy virtuous struggles and laborious toil ; 
 Thy valor now I amply will repay 
 With brighter sunshine and serener day — 
 The richest blessings which you here can know, 
 I now on thee and thine unborn bestow. 
 In future days thy sons shall read thy fame, 
 Applaud thy conduct and extol thy name, 
 Throughout the world, in every foreign dime, 
 Thy deeds shall live down to remotest time — 
 'Till stars dissolve, and sun and moon expire, 
 'Till systems hurst and nature sink in fire, 
 My empire here 'till then shall fix'd remain, 
 Till then America shall own my reign." 
 
 Commerce again now rules the swelling deep, 
 Her num'rous fleets the surging billows sweep ; 
 Those stately oaks which lately graced tiie plain, 
 In lofty ships now skim the liquid main. 
 On ev'ry sea, near every kingdom coast, 
 And bring from thence what they peculiar boast. 
 Along the strand where flowing tides arise, 
 See towering cities fix the astonished eyes. 
 Religion here in milder forms array'd, 
 There Victress Science haunts the laurel shade — 
 Here culture o'er the fertile earth prevails, 
 There joy umivali'd every heart regales. 
 While this blest region free from dire alarms, 
 Invites the stranger to her peaceful arms. 
 With willing hand, she opes her plenteous store, 
 Relieves his wants, and kts him want no more, — 
 Grants him a refuge from the despot's chain, 
 Affords him life, and bids him five again. 
 
 MASON L. WEEMS. 
 Weems, the biographer of many heroes, in whose 
 hands the trumpet of ferae never sounded an un- 
 certain blast, remains (such, alas ! are the dis- 
 tributions of the world) without a biographer. 
 His memory rests in a mythic report of the sur- 
 vivors who sometimes met him on his various 
 journeys, and who have generally some stories to 
 relate of his amiable vagaries. Fame thus has 
 her system of compensations in keeping alive the 
 history of her subjects; and where there is no 
 printed record tradition more than supplies its 
 place. Of Weems, but for the impression of him- 
 self stamped on every page of his manifold pro- 
 ductions, and these somewhat vague and uncer- 
 tain reports, we should know but little. 
 
 How lov'd, how valu'd once avails him not, 
 To whom related or by whom begot. 
 
 We learn that he was Rector of Mount Ver- 
 non parish, before the Revolution, when the old 
 
MASON L. WEEMS. 
 
 485 
 
 church at Pohick had for its attendant George 
 Washington. Mr. Lossing tells us* " that a large 
 and increasing family compelled him to abandon 
 preaching for a livelihood, and lie became a book 
 agent for Mathew Carey." Duly replenished 
 with a stock of Bibles, or Marshall's Life of Wash- 
 ington, or his own popular productions, he tra- 
 velled through the South, with a few sermons in 
 his knapsack, equally ready for a stump, a fair, or 
 a pulpit. 
 
 It would be difficult at this day to procure an 
 exact chronological catalogue of the books which 
 he himself wrote: though the more important 
 ones are still in vogue. Of these his Life of 
 Washington was published immediately after the 
 death of its illustrious subject.t The dedication 
 to Mrs. Martha Washington, like the tribute of 
 Humphreys and others, was a birth-day comme- 
 moration, being dated February 22, 1800. In the 
 second edition before us, it appears in an octavo 
 pamphlet firm of eighty-two pages. This is quite 
 a different production from the book as it was 
 afterwards rewritten, and as it is in circulation at 
 the present day. The topic was one which con- 
 stantly grew in love and wonder with Weems, and 
 what was at first a somewhat hurried sketch of 
 Washington's public career, with a lively pulpit 
 eulogy of his virtues, became but the nucleus for 
 the marvellous congregation of anecdotes which 
 the encouragement of the public led the author 
 to accumulate, as he ransacked memory, traversed 
 the ground of his hero's exploits, and talked with 
 those who had been familiar with his life ; while 
 in this good cause, if recollection and testimony 
 failed, a draft would certainly be honored by the 
 
 * Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution, ii. 42". 
 t A History of the Life and 'Death, Virtues and Exploits of 
 General George Washington, faithfully taken from authentic 
 documents, and, now in a second edition improved, respect- 
 fully offered to the perusal of his countrymen; as also, all 
 others who wish to see human nature in its most finished form. 
 Price, 25 cents. 
 
 A life^ how glorious, to his country led ! 
 
 Belov'd while living, as rever'd now dead. 
 
 May his example, virtuous deeds inspire 1 
 
 Let future ages read it, and admire ! 
 By the Rev. M. L. Weems, of lodge No. 50.— Dumfries, Phila- 
 delphia: reprinted by John Bioren, No. S3 Chestnut street, 
 fur the author. {Entered according to late.) 
 
 public, if drawn in snch a name on invention. 
 We believe that Weems would have accounted it 
 a venial pious fraud to tell any good story to the 
 credit of Washington, which came into his head 
 from any quarter or originated there in any way. 
 Weems went to work in stout heart and faith, 
 a Livy of the common people. He first gave the 
 fact and then the moral, anil neither of them was 
 dull. His piety was zealous as his patriotism. 
 The wind of his enthusiasm may have been 
 greater than the ballast of his argument, but the 
 ship was somehow gallantly driven along without 
 foundering. It is not literature, it may be granted, 
 and no one will pretend that it is history ; but 
 there is a great deal of Weems in it, and unli- 
 mited eulogy of George Washington. No voice 
 could be too loud, no powers of expression too 
 vigorous, to sing the praises of the man whose 
 virtues, in one of his quieter passages, he thus 
 sums up : — ■ 
 
 It is hardly exaggeration to say that Washington 
 was pious as Xuma ; just us Aristides ; temperate as 
 Epictetus; patriotic as Regulus; in giving public 
 trusts, impartial as Severus ; in victory, modest as 
 Seipio; prudent as Fabius ; rapid as Mareellus ; un- 
 daunted as Hannibal ; us Cineiunatus disinterested ; 
 to liberty firm as Cato ; and respectful of the laws 
 as Socrates. Or, to speak in plainer terms — he was 
 religious without superstition ; just witliout rigour ; 
 charitable without profusion; hospitable without 
 making others pa}' for it ; generous but with his own 
 money ; rich without covetousness ; frugal without 
 meanness; humane without weakness ; brave with- 
 out rashness; successful without vanity ; victorious 
 without pride; a lover of his country, but no hater 
 of French or English ; a staunch friend of govern- 
 ment, but respectful of those who pointed out its de- 
 fects with decency; true to his word witliout eva- 
 sion or perfidy ; firm in adversity ; moderate in pros- 
 perity ; glorious and honoured in life ; peaceful and 
 happy in death. 
 
 This early life of Washington, which is dedi- 
 cated to his widow, is thus curiously summed up 
 with her epitaph, on the principle of the Vicar 
 of Wakefield, who hung a similar mortuary in- 
 scription over his mantelpiece, productive of 
 melancholy in the breast of Mrs. Primrose. 
 
 Here lie interred, all that could die 
 
 of 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON 
 
 and 
 
 MARTHA, his wife. 
 
 They were lovely in Life, and in Death 
 
 They were not divided, 
 
 Heirs of Immortality! Rejoice — For their Virtues, 
 
 Their Honours, may be }'0urs. 
 
 " Honour and shame from no condition rise, 
 
 Act well your part, there all the honour lies." 
 
 After Mrs. Washington's death, when the ser- 
 mon could no longer profit her, this epitaph was 
 omitted by Weems in his later editions. One of 
 these, the eleventh, in 1811, is the full developed 
 production, which made the reputation of Weems, 
 and added to the fortunes of the publisher, 
 Mathew Carey. It is entitled, The Life of George 
 Washington; with curious anecdotes, equally, 
 honourable to himself, and exemplary to his 
 young countrymen. The title-page treats us 
 further to a bit of verse in honor of Washington, 
 
486 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 and a bit of prose in honor of Weems, tho latter 
 signed, II. Lee, Major-General, Army U. S. 
 
 A life how useful to his country led! 
 How loved ! while living! — how revered, now dead ! 
 Lisp! lisp! his name, ye children yet unborn! 
 And with like deeds your own great names adorn. 
 
 Lee announces that "the author lias treated 
 this great subject with admirable success in a 
 new way. He turns all the actions of Washing- 
 ton to the encouragement of virtue, by a careful 
 application of numerous exemplifications drawn 
 from the conduct of the founder of our republic 
 from his earliest life." 
 
 Judge Brackenridge also gave f an appreciative 
 certificate of the merits of the Washington. 
 " With regard to biographical merit, the delinea- 
 tion is such as to give a view of character not 
 on a parade day ; but as independent of command 
 or station. This is a painting which interests; 
 it is that which makes a likeness ; for a mere out- 
 line wanting the expression, gives no physiog- 
 nomy. I shall be glad to see more, in this way, 
 of some of the other heroes of the Revolutionary 
 period. General Greene particularly, whom I 
 have always placed next to Wa?hington in the 
 council and the field." 
 
 Benjamin Franklin was almost as good a sub- 
 ject as Washington, since Weems had a great deal 
 of Poor Richard always on his tongue, in support 
 of simplicity and frugality, though he never made 
 his fortune by his parsimony. There were, more- 
 over, anecdotes in abundance, and moralities at 
 every turn ; consequently, the life of Franklin 
 came from his hands glowing with unction, and 
 sparkling all over with eccentric passages. It 
 still holds its ground as a most entertaining 
 popular volume.* 
 
 An account of Penn is in the same vein. The 
 Life of William Penn, the settler of Pennsylva- 
 nia, the founder of Philadelphia, and one of the 
 first laughers in the Colonies, now United States, 
 in 1682, containing also his celebrated Treaty 
 with the Indians, his purchase of their country ; 
 valuable anecdotes of Admiral Penn, also of King 
 Charfes II., James II, King William and Queen 
 Anne, in whose reigns William Penn Iked ; 
 curious circumstances that led him to become a 
 Quaker, with a view of the admirable traits in 
 the character of the p>eople called Friends or 
 Quakers, who have done so much to meliorate the 
 condition of suffering humanity. Like a skilful 
 shopkeeper, Weems put a good portion of Ids 
 wares in the street window. 
 
 A fourth completes the series: — Tlie Life of 
 General Francis Marion, a celebrated partisan 
 officer in the Revolutionary War, against the 
 British and Tories in South Carolina and Geor- 
 gia, by Brig.-Gen. P. Horry, of Marion's Brigade : 
 and M. L. Weems. The travesty of Pope in the 
 
 * The Life of Benjamin Franklin ; with many choice anec- 
 dotes and admirable sayings of this g:eat man, never before 
 published by any ot'his biographers. By M. L. Weems, author 
 of the Life of Wellington. 
 
 Sage Franklin next arose in cheerful mien, 
 And smii d. unnifded, o'er the solemn scene ; 
 High on his locks of age, a wreath was brae'd, 
 Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal grae'd; 
 Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne, 
 And crowns and laurels from their temples torn, 
 rhlla. : Uriah Hunt. 1S35. 
 
 motto seems a little faithless to the transcendent 
 merits of Washington. 
 
 On Vernon's chief, why lavish #11 our lays, 
 Come, honest Muse, and sing great Marion's praise. 
 
 Though bearing Horry's name on the title-page, 
 this was throughout the production of Weems, 
 to whom Horry, a companion partisan officer with 
 Marion, had furnished the materials. Horry, a 
 straightforward man of sober judgment, was dis- 
 mayed at the antics his facts assumed in the 
 theatrical stylo of Weems. He expostulated with 
 him in a correspondence which has been recently 
 published.* The lively parson expresses himself 
 astonished at the possibility of offence, after he 
 had stretched evefypoint for the honor of Marion 
 and his lieutenant. " Though I have heard," says 
 he, "I can hardly believe it. What! is it pos- 
 sible that you can be displeased with a book 
 which places both your>elf and your beloved 
 Marion in so conspicuous and exalted a light ? 
 A book that contains every fact that you your- 
 self gave me — a book that everywhere meets 
 with unbounded applause — of which I have orders 
 for ninety copies in one single county in Georgia 
 — which has, in fact, changed the county of Wil- 
 kinson into that of Marion. A book which, in 
 short, sells better even than the life of Wa-hington. 
 Now, that you shcudd be displeased with such a 
 book, is to me very astonishing." Weems under- 
 stood very well his system of writing. He did 
 not attempt history, and blunder into poetry and 
 romance. He expres.-ly avows his intentions to 
 Horry — "I told you I must write it in my own 
 way, and knowing the pa-sion of the times for 
 novels, I have endeavoured to throw your ideas 
 and facts about General Marion into the garb and 
 dress of a military romance." Yet withal the 
 romance, though negligent in some points, i> truer 
 to history than many a dull unappreciative record. 
 
 Besides these, biographies at length, Weems's 
 original stock in trade was well supplied with the 
 light wares of tract and pamphlet. Patriotism, " 
 love, and morality were the burden of these effu- 
 sions. One of them was honored with a letter 
 from George Washington himself, which Wemis 
 procured to be engraved and published with the 
 pamphlet. It was entitled The Philanthropist : 
 or, Political Peace Maker between all honest men 
 of both pjarties, with the recommendation prefixed 
 by George Washington in his own handwriting. 
 Washington's letter was written in the summer 
 before his death, August, 17t)'J.t He considers it an 
 amiable attempt, but has some doubt of its success 
 in arresting the violence of party. One of these 
 moral writings of an early date is an octavo 
 pamphlet of fifty-fix pages, dedicated "to his ex- 
 cellency, Joseph Bloomfield, Esq., Governor of 
 the State of New Jersey," by his " affectionate 
 countryman and masonic brother." It appears to 
 have been, in part at least, delivered as an oration 
 
 * By Mr. Simms, from " the collection of a private gentle- 
 man" in a thoroughly genial presentation of "weems the bio- 
 grapher and historian," included in bis " Views and Kevicws 
 of American Literature, History, and Fiction." 
 
 t This title is from the tenth edition published in Philadel- 
 phia in 1SU9. We presume the following, which we find in a 
 catalogue, to be the title of an earlier edition of the same tract- 
 Weenu? Ph'd-.intliroinxi ; or, a good twrnty-five ctutswort/t of 
 political love powder, for hoatti Adavudies and Jejf'erso- 
 niatis. 
 
MASON L. WEEMS. 
 
 4S1 
 
 before a masonic brotherhood, of which fraternity 
 Weems was a devoted member, the designation 
 " of Lodge No. 50 — Dumfries," being a frequent 
 appendage to his name on his title-pages. This 
 pamphlet contains an affectionate, simple address ' 
 from the text, "little children love one another," 
 followed by eight chapters on the several Excel- 
 lencies of a Republic, for reason, safety, wealth, 
 for fair play (in equal laws and taxes), for peace, 
 morals, patriotism, and population. The style of . 
 this production is quiet for Weems, who gained 
 confidence with his increasing audience. Its last 
 chapter is a fearful arraignment of the murders 
 of tyrants in their various systems of wars and 
 depredation. 
 
 Another tract, Hymen's Recruiting Sergeant ; 
 or, the netr Matrimonial Tat-too for Old Bache- 
 lors, is still circulated in popular form. There 
 was also a series of vigorous narratives and de- j 
 nuneiations, levelled at the wild crimes of the un- \ 
 settled regions of the South. He took the titles 
 of these from Reynolds's similar improvements of j 
 the iniquities of the old world: God's Revenge 
 against Murder; oi\ the Drownhl Wife, a tra- 
 gedy. God's Revenge against Adultery ; or, the 
 Life of Rebecca Cotton. One of these tales of 
 terror, An Account of the Murder of Polly Find- 
 ley, by her husband Edward Findhij, contained 
 an inscription, •'Another Murder in old Edge- 
 field," which that " dark corner" of South Caro- 
 lina was disposed to resent. Mr. Simms tells the 
 story of the peril to which Weems exposed him- 
 self, and of his happy delivery from it. " lie 
 had occasion once to traverse the tabooed region, 
 which he did with considerable haste. The roads 
 were wretched, and his wagon, carrying an ample 
 collection of his pamphlets and histories, was 
 heavily laden. It sank into a quagmire, from 
 which' his own unas>isted strength utterly failed 
 to extricate it. He was many miles from human 
 habitation, the road was an obscure one, and the 
 day was lading. Even a philosopher might have 
 felt dubious of the situation. But Weems was a 
 philosopher of a peculiar order. He had his re- 
 medy. Unhitching his horse he suffered him to 
 feed at leisure in the wood, while he himself, 
 taking his violin from the case, took his seat on a 
 log by the road-side, and .coolly proceeded to ex- 
 tort from wood and catgut sucli strains as, in 
 that day and region, would have mocked the be>t 
 fantasia's of Ole Bull. They were not le>s pow- 
 erful in their effect. They drew to him an audi- 
 ence. Two wandering backwoodsmen suddenly 
 emerged from the covert, thoroughly charmed to 
 the spot by the old man's music. They lifted his 
 wheels out of the mire, and he rewarded them in 
 music. They asked him many questions, all of 
 which he answered with his how. They were 
 satisfied with his respon-es, and lie was tints en- 
 abled to escape in safety from the dangerous pre- 
 cincts. "I took precious care," said he, "to say 
 nothing of my name. When they pressed the 
 question, my fiddle drowned their words and my 
 own too." 
 
 There is another good dramatic anecdote of 
 W ems's fiddle. He was once requested to assist 
 with the instrument at a negro merry-making on 
 one of his southern tours. A difficulty, as the 
 story goes, presented itself in his clerical charac- 
 ter, and the impropriety of a clergyman playing 
 
 the fiddle under such circumstances. He con- 
 sented, however, willingly enough, if he could 
 fiddle without being seen. He was accordingly 
 placed behind a screen, which, as the jollity of the 
 evening went on, was thrown over, and the par- 
 son discovered to the company. 
 
 Of Weems's earlier parish life we have a pleas- 
 ing notice in the travels of John Davis, who was 
 in the United States from 1708 to 1802, and in 
 the latter portion of this time frequented Weems's 
 church at Pohick while he was living in the 
 vicinity. " Hither," he says, "I rode on Sundays 
 
 Pohick Churcb. 
 
 and joined the congregation of Parson Weems, 
 a minister of the Episcopal persuasion, who was 
 cheerful in his mien that he might win men to 
 religion." We have also this picture of the place 
 and the man : " A Virginian church-yard on a 
 Sunday resembles rather a race-ground than a 
 sepulchral-ground ; the ladies come to it in car- 
 riages, and the men, after dismounting from their 
 horses, make them fast to the trees. But the 
 steeples to the Virginian churches were designed, 
 not for utility but ornament; for the bell is al- 
 ways suspended to a tree a few yards from the 
 church. Itis also observable, that the gate to the 
 church-yard is ever carefully locked by the sexton, 
 who retires last; so that had Hervey and Gray 
 been born in America, the preacher of peace 
 could not have indulged in his Meditations among 
 the Tombs ; nor the poet produced the elegy that 
 has secured him immortality. Wonder andigno- 
 rance are ever reciprocal. I was confounded on 
 first entering the church-yard at Pohick to hear 
 steed threaten steed with high and boastful neigh. 
 Nor was I less stunned with the rattling of car- 
 riage wheels, the cracking of whips, and the vo- 
 ciferations of the gentlemen 10 the negroes, who 
 accompanied them. But the discourse of Parson 
 Weems calmed every perturbation for he preached 
 the great doctrines of salvation, as one who had 
 experienced their power. It was easy to discover 
 that he felt what he said; and indeed so uniform 
 was his piety, that he might have applied to him- 
 self the words of the prophet, 'My mouth shall 
 be telling of the righteousness and salvation of 
 Christ all the day long; for I know no end 
 thereof.' " Davis tells us that in his youth, Weems 
 
488 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " accompanied some young Americans to Lon- 
 don, where he prepared himself by diligent study 
 for the profession of the church." 
 
 We have not met with a record of Weems's birth 
 or of his birth-place. His death took place at 
 Beaufort, South Carolina, Hay 23, 1825. 
 
 EARLY ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 To assist his son to overcome that selfish spirit, 
 which too often leads children to fret and fight about 
 trifles, was a notable care of Ml', Washington. For 
 tills purpose, of all the presents, such as cakes, fruit, 
 (fee., he received, he was always desired to give a 
 liberal part to his playmates. To enable him to do 
 this with more alacrity, his father would remind him 
 of the love winch he would hereby gain, and the 
 frequent presents which would in return be made to 
 him; and also would tell of that great and good 
 God, who delights above all things to see children 
 love one another, and will assuredly reward them for 
 acting so amiable a part. 
 
 Some idea of Mr. Washington's plan of education 
 in this respect may be collected from the following 
 anecdote, related to me twenty years ago by an aged 
 lady, who was a distant relative, and when a girl 
 spent much of her time in the family : 
 
 " On a fine morning," said she, " in the fall of 1T37, 
 Mr. "Washington, having little George by the hand, 
 came to the door and asked my cousin AVashington 
 and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promising 
 he would show us a fine sight. On arriving at the 
 orchard, we were presented with a fine sight indeed. 
 The whole earth, as far as we could see, was strewed 
 with fruit: and yet the trees were bending under 
 the weight of apples, which hung in clusters like 
 grapes, and vainly strove to hide their blushh g 
 cheeks behind the green leaves. Now, George, said 
 his father, Look here, my son ! Don't you remem- 
 ber when this good cousin of yours brought you 
 that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could 
 prevail on you to divide it with your brothers and 
 sisters; though I promised you that if you would 
 but do it, God Almighty would give you plenty of 
 apples this fall. Poor George could not say a word; 
 but hanging down his head, looked quite confused, 
 while with his little naked toes he scratched in the 
 soft ground. Now look up, my son, continued his 
 father: Look up, George ! and see there how richly 
 the blessed God has made good my promise to you. 
 Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees 
 loaded with fine fruit; many of them indeed break- 
 ing down, while the ground is covered with mellow 
 apples, more than you could ever eat, my son, in all 
 your lifetime. 
 
 " George looked in silence on the wide wilderness 
 of fruit; he marked the busy humming-bees, and 
 heard the gay notes of birds, then lifting his eyes, 
 filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly 
 said, ' Well, Pa, only forgive me this lime ; and see 
 if I ever be so stingy any more.' " 
 
 Some, when they look up to the oak, whose giant 
 arms throw a darkening shade over distant acres, or 
 whose single trunk lays the keel of a man of war, 
 cannot bear to hear of the time when this mighty 
 plant was but an acorn, which a pig could have de- 
 molished : but others, who know their value, like to 
 learn the Boil and situation which best produces 
 such noble trees. Thus, parents that are wise will 
 listen well pleased, while I relate how moved the 
 steps of the youthful Washington, whose single 
 worth far outw r eighs all the oaks of Bashan, andthe 
 red spicy cedars of Lebanon. Yes, they will listen 
 delighted while I tell of their Washington in the 
 days of his youth, when his little feet were swift 
 
 towards the nests of birds ; or when, wearied in the 
 chase of the butterfly, he laid him down on his 
 grassy couch and slept, while ministering spirits 
 with their roseate wings, fanned his glowing cheeks, 
 and kissed his lips of innocence with that fervent 
 love which makes the Heaven I 
 
 Never did the wise Ulysses take more pains with 
 his beloved Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington 
 with George, to inspire him with an early love of 
 truth. "Truth, Geoige," (said he) " is the loveliest 
 quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, 
 to see the little boy wdiose heart is so honest, and his 
 lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he 
 says. O how lovely does such a child appear in the 
 eyes of everybod}-! His parents doat on him ; his 
 relations glory in him ; they are constantly praising 
 him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him. 
 i They are often sending for him, to visit them; and 
 I receive him, when he comes, with as much joy as 
 if he were a little angel, come to set pretty examples 
 to their children. 
 
 "But, Oh! how different, George, is the case with 
 the boy who is so given to lying that nobody can 
 believe a word he says! He is looked at with aver- 
 sion wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him 
 come among their children. Oh, Geoige, my sou! 
 rather than see you come to this pass, dear as you 
 are to my heart, gladly would I assist to nail j'ou 
 up in your little coffin, and follow you to your grave. 
 Hard, indeed, would it be to me to give up my son, 
 whose little feet aie always so ready to run about 
 with me, and whose fondly looking eyes and sweet 
 prattle make so large a part of my happiness ; but 
 still I would give him up, rather than see him a 
 common liar. 
 
 " Pa," (said George, very seriously) " do I ever tell 
 lies V 
 
 "No, George, I thank- God you do not, my son; 
 and I rejoice in the hope you never will. At least, 
 you shall never, from mo, have cause to be guilty of 
 so shameful a tiling. Many parents, indeed, even 
 compel their children to this vile practice, by bar- 
 barously beating them for every little fault; hence, 
 on the next offence, the little terrified creature slips 
 out a lie ! just to escape the rod. But as to yourself, 
 George, you know I have always told you, and now 
 tell you again, that, whenever by accident you do 
 anything wrong, which must often be the case, as 
 you are but a poor little boy yet, without experience 
 or knowledge, never tell a falsehood to conceal it; 
 but come bravely up, my son, like a little man, and 
 tell me of it: and instead of beating you, George, 
 I will but the more honor and love you for it, my 
 dear." 
 
 This, you'll say, was sowing good seed ! Yes, it 
 was: and the crop, thank God, was, as I believe it 
 ever will be, where a man acts the true parent, that 
 is, the Guardian Angel, by his child. 
 
 The following anecdote is a case in point. It is 
 too valuable to be lost, and tpo true to be doubted ; 
 for it was communicated to me by the same excel- 
 lent lady to whom 1 am indebted for the last. 
 
 "When George," said she, "was about six years 
 old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet! 
 of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately 
 fond, and was constantly going about chopping 
 everything that came in his way. One day, in the 
 garden, where he often amused himself hacking his 
 mother's pea sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of 
 his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English 
 cherry-tree, which he barked so terribly that I don't 
 believe the tree ever got the better of it. The next 
 morning the old gentleman finding out what had 
 befallen his tree, which, by the by, was a great 
 j favorite, came iuto the house, and with much warmth 
 
MASON L. WEEMS. 
 
 489 
 
 asked for the mischievous author, declaring at the 
 same time that he would not have taken five gui- 
 neas for his tree. Nobody could toll him anything 
 about it. Presently George and his hatchet made 
 their appearance. George, said his father, do you 
 know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yon- 
 der in the garden? This was a tough question; and 
 George staggered under it for a moment; but quick- 
 ly recovered himself, and looking at his father with 
 the sweet face of youth brightened with the inex- 
 pressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely 
 cried out, '/ cant tell a lie. Pa; you know I can't 
 tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet.' Run to my 
 arms, you dearest boy, cried ins father in transports, 
 run to my arms. Glad am I, George, that you killed 
 my tree; for you have paid tne for it a thousandfold. 
 Such an act of heroism in my soti is more worth than 
 a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and 
 their fruits of purest gold'' 
 
 It was in this way, by interesting at once both his 
 heart and head, that Mr. Washington conducted 
 George with great ease and pleasure along the 
 happy paths of virtue. But well knowing that his 
 beloved charge, soon to be a man, would be left 
 exposed to numberless temptations, botli from himself 
 and from others, his heart throbbed with the ten- 
 derest anxiety to make him acquainted with that 
 great being, whom to know and love is to possess 
 the surest defence against vice, and the best of all 
 motives to virtue and happiness. To startle George 
 into a lively sense of his Maker, he fell upon the 
 following very curious but impressive expedient: 
 
 One day he went into the garden, and prepared a 
 little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he 
 wrote George's name at lull, in large letters. Then 
 strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them 
 up, and smoothed all down nicely witli the roller. 
 This bed he purposely prepared close alongside of a 
 gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to be 
 well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honor- 
 ed with George's visits pretty regularly every d:iy. 
 Not many mornings had passed away before in came 
 George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little cheeks 
 ready to burst with great news. 
 "0, Pa! come here! come here!" 
 " What's the matter, my son, what's the matter?" 
 " come here, I tell you, Pa, come here ! and I'll 
 show you such a sight as you never saw in all your 
 lifetime." 
 
 The old gentleman suspecting what George would 
 be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great 
 eager .ess. and tugging him along through the gar- 
 den, led him point blank to the bed whereon was 
 inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshuess of 
 newly sprung plants, the full name of 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 " There, Pa !" said George, quite in an ecstacy of 
 astonishment, " did you ever see such a sight in all 
 your lifetime?" 
 
 " Why, it seems like a curious affair, sure enough, 
 George !" 
 
 "But, Pa, who did make it there? who did make 
 it there ?" 
 
 " It grew there by chance, I suppose, my son." 
 " By chance, Pa ! no! no! it never did grow 
 there by chance, Pa ; indeed that it never did I" 
 " High ! why not, my sou ?" 
 
 " Why, Pa, did you ever see anybody's name in a 
 plant bed before?" 
 
 " Well, but George, such a thing might happen, 
 though you never saw it before." 
 
 " Yes, Pa, but I did never see the little plants 
 grow up so as to make one single letter of my name 
 before. Now how could they grow up so as to make 
 all the letters of my name? Aud then standing one 
 
 after another, to spell my name so exactly I And all 
 so neat and even, too, at top and bottom ! Pa, you 
 must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody 
 did it; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to 
 scare me, because I am your little boy." 
 
 His father smiled, and said, " Well, George, you 
 have guessed right. I indeed did it ; but not to scare 
 you, my sou ; but to learn you a great thing which 
 I wish you to understand. 1 want, my son. to intro- 
 duce you to your true Father." 
 
 " High, Pa, an't you my true father, that has loved 
 me, and been so good to me always ?" 
 
 " Yes, George, I am your father, as the world calls 
 it; and I love you very dearly too. But yet witli 
 all my love for you, George, I am but a poor good- 
 for-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one 
 you have." 
 
 "Aye! I know, well enough, whom you mean, 
 Pa. You mean God Almighty, don't you?" 
 
 " Yes, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your 
 true Father, George." 
 
 " But, Pa, where is God Almighty ? I did never 
 see him yet." 
 
 " True, my son ; but though you never saw him, 
 yet lie is always witli you. You did not see me 
 when ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where 
 you see your name in such beautiful green letters ; 
 but though you did not see me here, yet you know I 
 was here!" 
 
 " Yes, Pa, that I do. I know you were here." 
 
 " Well, then, aud as my sou could nut believe that 
 chance had made and put together so exactly the 
 letters of his name, (though only sixteen) then how 
 can he believe t\\nt chance could have made and put 
 together all those millions and millions of things 
 that are now so exactly fitted to his good ! That ray 
 son may look at everything around him, see ! what 
 fine eyes he has got! aud a little pug nose to smell 
 the sweet flowers! and pretty ears to hear sweet 
 soundsl and a lovely mouth for his bread and but- 
 ter! and 0, the little ivory teeth to cut it for him! 
 and the dear little tongue to prattle with his father! 
 and precious little hands and fingers to hold his 
 playthings! and beautiful little feet for him to run 
 about upon! ami when my little rogue of a son is 
 tired with running about, then the still night comes 
 for him to lie down, and his mother sings, and the 
 little crickets chirp him to sleep ! and as soon as he 
 has slept enough, and jumps up fresh and strong as a 
 little buck, there the sweet golden light is ready for 
 him ! When he looks down into the water, there 
 he sees the beautiful silver fishes for him! and up 
 in the trees there are the apples, and peaches, and 
 thousands of sweet fruits for him! aud all, all 
 around him, wherever ray dear boy looks, he sees 
 everything 1 just to his wants and wishes; the 
 bubbling springs with cool sweet water for him to 
 drink ! and the wood to make him sparkling tires 
 when he is cold! ami beautiful horses for him to 
 ride! and strong oxen to work for him ! and the 
 good cows to give him milk! and bees to make sweet 
 honey for his sweeter mouth! and the little lambs, 
 with- snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for him! 
 Now, these and all the ten thousand other good things 
 more than my son can ever think of, and all so 
 exactly fitted to his use and delight — Now how 
 could chance ever have done all this for my little 
 son ? Oil, George !— " 
 
 He would have gone on, but George, who had 
 hung upon his father's words with looks and eyes of 
 all-devouring attention, here broke out — 
 
 " Oh. Pa, that's enough ! that's enough ! It ean't 
 be chance, indeed, it can't be chance, that made and 
 gave me all these things." 
 
 " What was it then, do you think, my son?" 
 
490 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " Indeed, Pa, I don't know unless it was God Al- 
 mighty .'" 
 
 " Yes, George, he it was, my son, and nobody 
 else." 
 
 " Well, but Pa," continued George, " does God 
 Almighty give me everything ? Don't you give me 
 some t/tdngs, Pa?" 
 
 " I give you something indeed ! Oh, how .can I 
 give you anything, George? I who have nothing on 
 earth that 1 can call my own, no, not even the 
 breath I draw I" 
 
 " High, Pa ! Isn't that great big house your 
 house, and this garden, and the horses yonder, and 
 oxen, and sheep, and trees, and everything, isn't all 
 yours, Pa ?" 
 
 " Oh no, my son ! No ! Why you make me 
 shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all 
 these belonging to me, who can't even make a grain 
 of sand ! Oh, how could I, my son, have given life 
 to those great oxen and horses, when I can't give 
 life even to a fly ? Ko, for if the poorest fly were 
 killed, it is not your father, George, nor all the men 
 in the world that could ever make him alive again!" 
 
 At this George fell into a profound silence, while 
 his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul was 
 laboring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps 
 it was at this moment that the good spirit of,God 
 ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which 
 filled his after life with so many of the precious 
 fruits of morality, 
 
 KEIMEll'S ATTEMPT AT A NEW RELIGION — FROM THE LIFE OF 
 FRANKLIN. 
 
 Ben was naturally comic in a high degree, and 
 this pleasant vein, greatly improved by his present 
 golden prospects, betrayed him into ninny a frolic 
 with Keinier, to whom he had prudently attached 
 himself as a journeyman, until the Annis should sail. 
 The reader will excuse Ben for these frolics when lie 
 comes to learn what were their aims ; as also what 
 an insufferable old creature this Kcimer was. .Silly 
 as a noony, yet vain as a jay, and garrulous as a tie, 
 he could never rest but when in a stiff argument, 
 ami acting the orator, at which he looked on Cicero 
 himself as but a boy to him. Here was a fine target 
 for Ben's Socratic artillery, which he frequently 
 played off on the old Pomposo with great effect. 
 By questions artfully put, he would obtain of him 
 certain points, which Keimer readily granted, as 
 seeing in them no sort of connexion with the matter 
 in debate. But yet these points, when granted, like 
 distant nets slyly hauling round a porpoise or stur- 
 geon, would, by degrees, so completely circumvent 
 the silly fish, that with all his flouncing and fury he 
 could never extricate himself, but rather got more 
 deeply entangled. Of^en caught in this way, he 
 became at last so afraid of Ben's questions, that he 
 ■would turn as mad when one of them was "poked 
 at him," as a bull at sight of a scarlet cloak ; and 
 would not answer the simplest question without 
 first asking, "well, and what would you make of 
 that ?" He came at length to form so exalted an 
 opinion of Ben's talents for refutation, that lie 
 seriously proposed to him one day that they should 
 turn out together and preach up a Kew Religion ! 
 Keimer was to preach and make the converts, and 
 Ben to answer and put to silence the gainsayers. 
 He said a world of money might be made by it. 
 
 On hearing the outlines of this new religion, Ben 
 found great fault with it. This he did only that he 
 might have another frolic with Keimer; but his 
 frolics were praiseworthy, for they all " leaned to 
 virtue's side." Thetruth is, he saw that Keimer 
 was prodigiously a hypocrite. At every whipstitch 
 he could play the knave, and then for a pretence 
 
 would read his Bible. But it was not the moral 
 part of the Bible, the sweet precepts and parables 
 of the Gospel that he read. iSo, verily. Food so 
 angelic was not at all to the tooth of his childish 
 fancy, which delighted in nothing but the novel and 
 curious. Like too many of the saints now-a-days, 
 he would rather read about the witch of Endor, 
 than the good Samaritan, and hear a sermon on the 
 brazen candlesticks than on the love of God. And 
 then, O dear! who was Melchizedeck ? Or where 
 was the land of iSod ? Or, was it in the shape of a 
 serpent or a monkey that the devil tempted Eve ? 
 As he was one day poring over the pentateuch as 
 busy after some nice game of this sort as a terrier 
 on the track of a weazel, he came to that famous 
 text where iloses says, " thou shalt not mar the cor- 
 ners of thy beard," Aye ! this was the divinity for 
 Keimer. It struck him like a new light from the 
 clouds: then rolling his eyes as from an apparition, 
 he exclaimed, " miserable man that I am ! and was 
 I indeed forbidden to mar even the corners of my 
 beard, and have I been all this time shaving myself 
 as smooth as an eunuch ! Fire and brimstone, how 
 have you been boiling up for me, and I knew it not! 
 Hell, deepest hell is my portion, that's a clear case, 
 unless I reform. And reform I will if I live. Yes, 
 my poor naked chin, if ever I but get another crop 
 upon thee and I suffer it to be touched by the un- 
 godly steel, then let my right hand forget her cun- 
 ning." 
 
 From that day he became as shy of a razor as 
 ever Samson was. His long black whiskers 
 "whistled in the wind." And then to see how he 
 would stand up before his glass and stroke them 
 down, it would have reminded you of some ancient 
 Druid, adjusting the sacred Mistletoe. 
 
 Ben could not bear that sight. Such shameless 
 neglect of angel morality, and yet such fidgetting 
 about a goatish beard ! " Heavens, sir," said he to 
 Keimer, one day in the midst of a hot argument, 
 
 " Who can think, with common sense, 
 A smooth shaved face gives God offence? 
 Or that a whisker hath a charm, 
 Eternal justice to disarm r" 
 
 He even proposed to him to get shaved. Keimer 
 swore outright that he would never lose his beard. 
 A stiff altercation ensued. But Keimer getting 
 angry, Ben agreed at last to give up the beard. He 
 said that," as the beard at best was but an external, 
 a mere excrescence, he would not insist on that as 
 so very essential. But certainly, sir," continued lie, 
 " there is one thing that is." 
 
 Keimer wanted to know what that was. 
 
 "Why, sir," added Ben, "this turning out and 
 preaching up a New Religion, is, without, doubt, a 
 very serious affair, and ought not to be undertaken 
 too hastily. jVluch time, sir, in my opinion at least, 
 should be spent in making preparation, in which 
 fasting should certainly have a large share." 
 
 Keinier, who was a great glutton, said lie could 
 never fast. 
 
 Ben then insisted that if they were not to fast 
 altogether, they ought, at any rate, to abstain from 
 animal food, and live as the saints of old did, on 
 vegetables' unci water. 
 
 Keimer shook his head, and said that if he were 
 to live on vegetables and water, he should soon die. 
 
 Ben assured him that it. was entirely a mistake. 
 He had tried it often, he said, and could testify from 
 his own experience that he was never more healthy 
 and cheerful than when he lived on vegetables alone. 
 "Die from feeding on vegetables, indeed! Why, 
 sir, it contradicts reason ; and contradicts ail history, 
 ancient and profane. There was Daniel, and his 
 three young friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed- 
 
MASON L. WEEMS. 
 
 491 
 
 nego, who fed on a vegetable diet, of choice; did 
 they languish and die of it! Or rather did they 
 not display a rouge of health and fire of genius, far 
 beyond those silly youths who crammed on all the 
 luxuries of the royal table? And that amiable 
 Italian nobleman, Lewis Cornaro, "who says of 
 bread, that it was such a dainty to his palate, that 
 he was almost afraid, at times, it was too good for 
 him to eat; did he languish and die of this simple 
 fare ? On the contrary, did he not outlive three 
 generations of gratified epicures, and after all, go 
 off in his second century, like a bird of Paradise, 
 singing the praises of Temperance and Virtue? And 
 pray, six*," continued Ben, " where's the wonder of 
 all this ? Must not the blood that is formed of vege- 
 tables be the purest in nature? And then, as the 
 spirits depend on the blood, must not the spirits se- 
 creted from such blood be the purest too? And 
 when this is the case with the blood and spirits, 
 which are the very life of the man, must not that 
 man enjoy the best chance for such healthy secre- 
 tions and circulations as are most conducive to long 
 and happy life ?'' 
 
 Whi!e Ben argued at this rate, Keimer regarded 
 him with a look which seemed to say, " Very true, 
 sir; all this is very true, but still I cannot go it." 
 
 Ben, still unwilling to give up his point, thought 
 he wo dd make one more push at him. " What a 
 pity it is," said he with a sigh, " that the blessings 
 of s i sublime a religion should be all lost to the 
 'worl 1, merely for lack of a little fortitude on the 
 part of its propagators." 
 
 This was touching him on the right string ; for 
 Keimer was a man of such vanity, that a little Hat- 
 toy would put him up to anything. So after a few 
 hems and ha's, he said, he believed he would, at any 
 rate, make a trial of this new regimen. 
 
 Havi ig thus carried his point, Ben immediately 
 engaged a poor old woman of the neighborhood to 
 become their cook; and gave her off-hand, written 
 receipts for three and forty dishes; not one of 
 which contained a single atom of fish, flesh, or fowl. 
 For their first day's breakfast on the nam regimen, 
 the nld woman treated them with a tureen of oat- 
 meal gruel. Keimer was particularly fond of his 
 breakfast, at which a nice beef-steak with onion 
 sauce was a standing dish. It was as good as a 
 farce to Ben, to see with wdiat an eye Keimer re- 
 garded the tureen, when, entering the room, in place 
 of his steak, hot, smoking, and savory, he beheld 
 this pale, meagre-looking slop. 
 
 " What have you got there?" said he, with a 
 visage gram, and scowling eye. 
 
 "A disli of hasty pudding," replied Ben, with the 
 smile of an innocent youth who had a keen appe- 
 tite, with something good to satisfy it; "a dish of 
 nice hasty pudding, sir, made of oats." 
 
 " Of oats ?" retorted Keimer, with a voice raised 
 to a scream. 
 
 " Yes, sir, oats," rejoined Ben ; " oats, that pre- 
 cious grain which gives such elegance and fire to 
 our noblest of quadrupeds, the horse." 
 
 Keimer growled out, that he was no horse to eat 
 oats. 
 
 " No matter for that," replied Ben, " 'tis equally 
 good for men." 
 
 Keimer denied that any human being ever eat 
 oats. 
 
 " Aye I" said Ben, " and pray what's become of 
 the Scotch? Don't they live on oats? And yet, 
 where will you find a people so ' bonny, blythe, and 
 gay?' a nation of 'such wits and warriors-?" 
 
 As there was no answering this, Keimer sat down 
 to the tureen, and swallowed a few spoonfuls, but 
 not without making as many wry faces as if it had 
 
 been so much jalap ; while Ben, all smile and chat, 
 breakfasted most deliciously. 
 
 At dinner, by Ben's order, the old woman paraded 
 a trencher piled up with potatoes. Keimer s grum- 
 bling fit came on him again. "He saw clear 
 enough," he said, " that he was to be poisoned." 
 
 '■ Poll I cheer up, man," replied Ben; "tins is 
 your right preacher's bread." 
 
 " Bread the d — 1!" replied Keimer, snarling. 
 " Yes, bread, sir," continued Ben, pleasantly; "the 
 bread of life, sir ; for where do you find such health 
 and spirits, such bloom and beauty, as among the 
 honest-hearted Irish, and yet for their breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper, the potato is their tetotum ; the 
 first, second, and third course." 
 
 In this way, Ben and his old woman went on with 
 Keimer ; daily ringing the changes on oatmeal gruel, 
 roasted potatoes, boile 1 rice, a.,d so on, through the 
 whole family of roots and grains in all their various 
 genders, moods, and tenses. 
 
 Sometimes, like a restive mule, Keimer would 
 kick up and show strong symptoms of flying the 
 
 j way. But then Ben would prick him up again with 
 
 , a touch of his ruling passion, vanity. " O.dy think, 
 Mr. Keimer," he would say, " oidy think what has 
 been done by the founders of new religions : how 
 they have enlightened the ignorant, polished the 
 rude, civilized the savage, and made heroes of those 
 who were little better than brutes. Think, sir, what 
 Moses did among the stiff-necked Jews ; what Maho- 
 met did among the wild Arabs ; ami what you may 
 do among these gentle drab-coated Peunsylvauians." 
 This, like a spur in the Hank of a jaded horse, gave 
 Keimer a new start, anil pushed him on afresh to 
 his gruel breakfasts and potato dinners. Ben strove 
 hard to keep him up to this gait. Often at table, 
 and especially when he saw that Keimer was in 
 good humour and fed kindly, he would give a loose 
 to fane}', and paint the advantages of their new regi- 
 
 ; men in the most glowing colors. "Aye, sir," he 
 would say, letting drop at the same time his spoon, 
 as in an ecstacy of his subject, while his pudding on 
 the platter cooled, " aye, sir, now we are beginning 
 to live like men going a preaching indeed. Let 
 your epicures gormandize their fowl, fish, and flesh, 
 with draughts of intoxicating liquors. Such gross, 
 inflammatory food may suit the brutal votaries of 
 Mars ami Venus. But our views, sir, are different 
 altogether ; we are going to teach wisdom and 
 benevolence to mankind. This is a heavenly work, 
 sir, and our minds ought to lie heavenly. .Now, as 
 the mind depends greatly on the body, and the body 
 on the food, we should certainly select that which is 
 of the most pure and refining quality. And this, 
 sir, is exactly the food to our purpose. This mild 
 potato, or this gentle pudding, is the thing to insure 
 
 ' the light stomach, the cool liver, the clear head, and 
 above all, those celestial passions which become a 
 preacher that would moralize the world. And these 
 celestial passions, sir, let me add, though I don't 
 pretend to be a prophet, these celestial passions, sir, 
 were yon but to stick to this diet, would soon shine 
 out in your countenance with such apostolic majesty 
 and grace, as would strike all beholders with reve- 
 rence, and enable you to carry the world before you." 
 Such was the style of Ben's rhetoric with old 
 Keimer. But it could not all do. For though these 
 harangues would sometimes make him fancy himself 
 as big as Zoroaster or Confucius, and talk as if he 
 should soon have the whole country running after 
 him, and worshipping him for the Grkat Lama of 
 
 | the west; yet this divinity fit was too niueli against 
 the grain to last long. Unfortunately for poor 
 Keimer, the kitchen lay between him and his bishop- 
 ric: and both nature and habit had so wedded him 
 
492 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITEEATUEE. 
 
 to that swinish idol, that nothing could divorce him. 
 So after having been led by Ben a " very d — / of a 
 life," as he called it, "for three months'' his flesh- 
 pot appetites prevailed, and he swore, " by his whis- 
 kers, he would suffer it no longer'' Accordingly he 
 ordered a nice roast pig for dinner, and desired Ben 
 to invite a young friend to dine with them. Ben 
 did so: but neither himself nor his young friend 
 were anything the better for the pig. For before 
 they cuuld arrive, the pig being done, and his appe- 
 tite beyond all restraint, Keimer had fallen on it and 
 devoured the whole. And there he sat panting and 
 torpid as an Anaconda who had just swallowed a 
 young buffalo. But still his looks gave sign that 
 the " Ministers of Grace " had not entirely deserted 
 him, for at sight of Ben and his young friend, he 
 blushed up to the eyelids, and in a glow of scarlet, 
 which showed that he paid dear for his whistle 
 (glutton}"), he apologized for disappointing them of 
 their dinner. " Indeed, the smell of the pig," he 
 said, " was so sweet, and the nicely browned skin so 
 inviting, especially to him who had been long starv- 
 ed, that for the soul of him he could not resist the 
 temptation to taste it — and then, O I if Lucifer him- 
 self had been at the door, lie must have gone on, let 
 what would have been the consequences." He said, 
 too, " that for his part he was glad it was a pig and 
 not a hog, for that he verily believed he should have 
 bursted himself." Then leaning back in his chair 
 and pressing his swollen abdomen with his paws, he 
 exclaimed, with an awkward laugh, " Well, I don't 
 believe I was ever cut out for a bishop!" Here 
 ended the faree: for Keimer never after this uttered 
 another word about his Sew Religion. 
 
 Ben used, laughing, to say that he drew Keimer 
 into this scrape that he might enjoy the satisfaction 
 of starving him out of his'gluttouy. And he did it 
 also that he might save the more for books and can- 
 dles: their vegetable regimen costing him, in all, 
 rather less than three cents a day ! To those who 
 can spend twenty times this sum on tobacco and 
 whiskey alone, three cents per day must appear a 
 scurvy allowance, and of course poor Ben must be 
 sadly pitied. But such philosophers should remem- 
 ber that all depends on our loves, whose property it 
 is to make bitter things sweet, and heavy things light. 
 
 For example: to lie out in the darksome swamp 
 with no other canopy but the sky, and no bed but 
 the cold ground, and his oidy music the midnight 
 owl or screaming alligator, seems terrible to servile 
 minds; but it was joy to Marion, whose "whole 
 soul," as General Lee well observes, " was devoted to 
 liberty and country." 
 
 So, to shut himself up in a dirty printing-office, 
 with no dinner but a bit of bread, no supper but an 
 apple, must appear to every epicure as it did to 
 Keimer, " a mere d — I of a life ;" but it was joy to 
 Ben, whose whole soul was on his books, as the 
 Bacred lamps that were to guide him to usefulness 
 and glory. 
 
 Happy he who early strikes into the path of wis- 
 dom, and bravely walks therein till habit sprinkles 
 it with roses. He shall be led as a lamb among the 
 green pastures along the water courses of pleasure, 
 nor shall he ever experience the pang of those 
 
 Who pee the right, and approve it too ; 
 Condemn the wrong — aDd yet the wrong pursue. 
 
 JED1DIAH MOESE. 
 
 The author of the first geography of the United 
 States, Jedidiah Morse, was a descendant of an 
 
 old New England family, and was born at "Wood-: 
 stock, Conn., in 1761. He became a graduate of 
 Yale in 1783, and was installed minister of the 
 church at Charlestown, Mass., April 30, 1789, 
 where he remained until 1821. The remainder 
 of his life was passed at New Haven, where he 
 died, June 9, 1826. He published a number of 
 sermons, delivered on thanksgivings, fasts, and 
 other special occasions ; a work on the election 
 of a Hollis professor of divinity, in 1805 ; a brief 
 abridgment of the History ojNew England ; a 
 General Gazetteer ; and his Geography, the first 
 edition of which appeared in 1789. "Four 
 years," he states, " were employed in this work, 
 during which period he visited the several states 
 of the Union, maintained an extensive corre-pon- 
 dence with men of science, and submitted his 
 manuscripts to the inspection of gentlemen in the 
 states which they particularly described for their 
 correction." The portion devoted to the United 
 States occupies 480 out of the 530 closely printed 
 octavo pages, and contains a full description not 
 only of the natural features of the country, but 
 of its history, and is especially valuable for its 
 minute account of the chief towns and cities, and 
 its gossiping observation upon the manners and 
 customs of the people of the different states. He 
 also published in 1822 a Report of a Tour among 
 the Indians in the Summer 0/"182O, made in pur- 
 suance of a commission from government. 
 
 ALBERT GALLATIN. 
 
 Albert Gallatin was horn at Geneva, Switzer- 
 land, January 29, 1761. His parents died in his 
 infancy; but by the care of a distant lady relative 
 of his mother, he received an excellent education. 
 After graduating in 1799 from the university of 
 his native city, he emigrated to America, and 
 landed at Boston, July 14, 1780. Meeting here 
 with some friends of his family who designed 
 settling in Maine, he accompanied them to their 
 destination, near the fort at Machias. On ar- 
 riving there, he found the commander, Captain 
 John Allen, engaged in raising a company of vo- 
 lunteers to march to the defence of Passama- 
 quoddy. He not only joined and accompanied 
 the expedition, but loaned the commanding 
 officer six hundred dollars, nearly all the money 
 he had, taking an order on the government in 
 payment. On his return to Boston, he found 
 the treasury destitute of funds, and, nnable to 
 wait for the chances of its replenishment, was 
 forced to sell his claim for one third of its value. 
 In 1782 he was appointed teacher of French 
 in Harvard College, and in the following year 
 removed to Virginia. Here he was brought into 
 prominent notice by the ability with which he 
 argued the claims of some foreign capitalists who 
 had made large advances to the state of Virginia. 
 We next find him purchasing, with the patrimony 
 which he had drawn from Europe, an extensive 
 tract in the west of the state. It was probably 
 while engaged in examining these lands, that the 
 interview occurred with General Washington, 
 which is related in Mr. John R. Bartlett's address 
 before the N Y. Historical Society* on the de- 
 cease of Mr. Gallatin. 
 
 • Lit, World, v. 510. 
 
ALBERT GALLATIN. 
 
 493 
 
 "Mr Gallatin said lie first met General Washington 
 at the office of a Land Agent, near the Keuawha 
 river, in North Western Virginia, where he (Mr. G.) 
 had been engaged in surveying. The office consist- 
 ed of a log house, 14 feet square, in which was but 
 one rooni. In one corner of this was a bed for the 
 use of the agent. General Washington, who owned 
 large tracts of land in this region, was then visiting 
 them in company with his nephew, and at the same 
 time examining the country with a view of opening 
 a road across the Alleghames. Many of the settlers 
 and hunters familiar witli the country, had been in- 
 vited to meet the General at this place, for the pur- 
 pose of giving him such information as would enable 
 him to select the most eligible pass for the con- 
 templated road. Mr. Gallatin felt a desire to meet 
 this great man, and determined to await his arri- 
 val. 
 
 "On his arrival, General Washington took his seat 
 at a pine table in the log cabin, or rather land 
 agent's office, surrounded by the men who had 
 come to meet him. They all stood up, as there was 
 no room for seats. Some of the more fortunate, 
 however, secured quarters on the bed. They then 
 underwent an examination by the. General, who 
 wrote down all the particulars stated by them. He 
 was very inquisitive, questioning one after the 
 other, and noting down all they said. Mr. Gallatin 
 stood among the others in the crowd, though quite 
 near the table, and listened attentively to the 
 numerous queries put by the General, and very 
 soon discovered from the various relations which 
 was the only practicable pass through which the 
 road could be made. He felt uneasy at the in- 
 decision of the General, when the point was so evi- 
 dent to him, and without reflecting on the impro- 
 priety of it, suddenly interrupted him, saying, ' Oh, 
 it is plain enough, such a plaee(a spot just mentioned 
 by one of the settlers) is the most practicable.' The 
 good people stared at the young surveyor (for they 
 only knew him as such) with surprise, wondering at 
 his boldness in thrusting his opinion unasked upon 
 the General. 
 
 " The interruption put a sudden stop to General 
 Washington's inquiries. He laid down his pen, 
 raised his eyes from his paper, and cast a stern look 
 at Mr. Gallatin, evidently offended at the intrusion 
 of Ills opinion, but said not a word. Resuming his 
 former attitude, he continued his interrogations for 
 a few minutes longer, when, suddenly stopping, he 
 threw down his pen, turned to Mr. Gallatin, and 
 said, ' You are right, sir.' 
 
 " ' It was so on all occasions with General Wash- 
 ington,' remarked Mr. Gallatin to me. ' He was 
 slow in forming an opinion, and never decided until 
 he knew he was right." 
 
 " To continue the narrative: the General stayed 
 here all night, occupying the bed alluded to, while 
 his nephew, the land ageut, and Mr. Gallatin rolled 
 themselves in blankets and buffalo skins, and lay 
 upon the bare floor. After the examination men- 
 tioned, and when the party went out, General 
 Washington inquired who the young man was who 
 hail interrupted him, made his acquaintance, and 
 learned all the particulars of his history. They 
 occasionally met afterwards, and the General urged 
 Mr. Gallatin to become his land agent ; but as Mr. 
 Gallatin was then, or intended soon to become, the 
 owner of a large tract of land, he was compelled to 
 decline the favorable offer made him by General 
 Washington." 
 
 Gallatin was prevented from settling on his 
 lands in consequence of the hostilities of the 
 Indians, and in 1786 purchased a farm on the 
 
 Monongahela, in Pennsylvania, on the borders of 
 Virginia. 
 
 In 1789 he was elected a member of the con- 
 vention assembled to amend the constitution of 
 the state, and in the following year a member of 
 the House of Representatives of the same com- 
 monwealth, lie soon became the leading mem- 
 ber of that body, by whom he was chosen in 
 1793 United States Senator. 
 
 He took his seat, but retained it only two 
 months, it being then decided, after elaborate 
 argument, by a strict party vote of fourteen to 
 twelve, that he was ineligible to the office. The 
 point in dispute related to the period from which 
 his citizenship was to be dated. 
 
 In 1794 Mr. Gallatin married a daughter of 
 Commodore Nicholson, and returning to his resi- 
 dence in Pennsylvania, was soon again engaged 
 in public affairs in consequence of the insurrec- 
 tion against the excise duty then levied by Con- 
 gress. He attended a public meeting of citizens 
 of the western counties, called to take in consi- 
 deration the unsettled state of the country arising 
 from this difficulty, and by his influence suc- 
 ceeded in preventing the passage of resolutions 
 of a violent and treasonable nature, and pro- 
 curing the appointment of delegates to treat with 
 those appointed for the purpose by the federal 
 and state governments. 
 
 On the fourteenth of October, in the same year, 
 he was elected member of Congress for the district 
 adjacent to that in which he resided, lie was 
 put up, without his knowledge, as an independent 
 candidate, in opposition to the nominees of the 
 two regular parties, on the express ground of his 
 recent service in the cause of order. 
 
 Gallatin entered Congress Dec, 1795, and was 
 thrice re-elected by the same district, but was 
 prevented from serving his fourth term by his 
 appointment as Secretary of the Treasury by Mr. 
 Jefferson. He at once became the leader of the 
 republican party. His services to the country in 
 its financial relations have been universally ac- 
 knowledged. He opposed the increase of the 
 national debt, and prepared the way for its 
 gradual extinction. He was a warm advocate of 
 internal improvements, and particularly of the 
 National Road and of the Coa*t Survey. He 
 also systematized the mode of disposal of the pub- 
 lic lands. In 1813 he retired from the Cabinet to 
 take part with Adams and Clay in the negotia- 
 tions for peace with Great Britain. 
 
 From 1810 to 1823 he resided in Paris, as the 
 minister of the United States. In 1826 he was 
 appointed to similar office at the court of Great 
 Britain. His intercourse with both governments 
 was signalized by treaties and other measures of 
 great benefit to the United States. 
 
 In 1827 lie returned to his adopted country, 
 and resided for the remainder of his life in the 
 city of New York. Here he soon after his return 
 prepared the argument in behalf of the United 
 States, to he laid before the King of the Nether- 
 lands as umpire on the Maine boundary question. 
 An elaborate essay on the same subject appeared 
 from his pen in 1840. In 1831 Gallatin pub- 
 lished Considerations on the Currency and Bank- 
 ing System of the United States, in which he 
 reviewed the laws of paper money and the Bank- 
 ing system of the United States, with its metallic 
 
494 
 
 CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 basis anil the suppression of small notes, as 'well 
 as the Constitutional powers of Congress, advo- 
 cating the advantages of a regulated Bank of the 
 United States. In 1838 he rendered an im- 
 portant service to the community by using his 
 influence in a convention of bank presidents, in 
 favor of a resumption of specie payments by 
 those institutions after the financial crisis of 1836. 
 The remainder of his life was principally occupied 
 by researches connected with the natural features, 
 production 1 !, and aboriginal literature of the coun- 
 try. His memory was remarkable, and the stores 
 of knowledge which his long life of close applica- 
 tion and observation had accumulated, were freely 
 bestowed on all to whom they could be of service. 
 
 He was elected President of the New York 
 Historical Society in 1S43, and notwithstanding 
 his great age, continued indefatigable in its duties 
 until his death. The year previously he was 
 mainly instrumental in founding and became the 
 first President of the Ethnological Society, which 
 has published in its collections his work on the 
 Semi-Civilized Nations of Mexico, Yucatan, and 
 Central America. This work, which reviews the 
 languages, numeration, calendar and astronomy, 
 history, and chronology of these countries, con- 
 tains also the author's modestly termed Conjec- 
 tures on the Origin of Semi-Civilization in Ameri- 
 ca, ill which lie refers the physical type to Asia, 
 and finds in the philological variations proof of a 
 distant antiquity. The use of the calendar and 
 of agriculture is philosophically ascribed to an 
 indigenous cultivation. The notes on Mexico 
 may be regarded as a sequel to the author's 
 Synapsis of the Indian Tribes within the United 
 States, East of the Roehy Mountains, and in the 
 British and Russian, Possessions in North Ameri- 
 ca, published in the second volume of Transac- 
 tions of the American Antiquarian Society, in 
 which a resume is given of extensive researches 
 in family classification and language, of which he 
 notes "the similarity of structure and grammati- 
 cal forms. The result appears to confirm the 
 
 opinions already entertained on the subject by 
 Mr. L>uPonceau, Mr. Pickering, and others ; and to 
 prove that all the languages, not only of our own 
 Indians, but of the native inhabitants of America 
 from the Arctic Ocean to Cape Horn, have, as 
 far as they have been investigated, a distinct 
 character common to all. and apparently differing 
 from any of those of the other continent with 
 which we are most familiar." His first essay on 
 this subject was undertaken in 1823 at the re- 
 quest of Alexander Von Humboldt, and by him 
 communicated to the geographer Balbi, who 
 noticed it with praise in the introduction to his 
 "Atlas Ethnographique." Gallatin pursued the 
 topic, obtaining vocabularies in 1825 and '0 from 
 Southern Indians visiting "Washington, making 
 inquiries in various quarters and assisted by 
 DuPonceau. In his latter years the zest and 
 enthusiasm, the pains-taking accuracy of detail 
 combined with the clear philosophical deduction 
 with which he occupied himself in these historic 
 and antiquarian themes, will long live in the 
 minds of those who witnessed this picture of a 
 learned and amiable old age worthy to lie esti- 
 mated by the eulogium of Cicero. The infusion 
 of a foreign accent which his speech retained, did 
 not lessen the charm of this earnestness and sim- 
 plicity as they were witnessed and always highly 
 honored in the monthly meetings, during his 
 Presidency, of the Historical Society. 
 
 Geography and its kindred ethnological topics 
 seem to have always excited Gallatin's interest. 
 On his arrival in Boston, a youth of nineteen, 
 Mr. Bartlett relates in his personal reminiscences, 
 one of his first acts was to ascend the roof of his 
 domicile. Here he descried the hills of Milton, 
 and the next day proceeded on foot with a tra- 
 velling friend to their summits. The horizon was 
 bounded by still higher eminences to the west, 
 and to these, in the vicinity of "Worcester, he 
 journeyed still on foot, in quest of an extended 
 view. 
 
 In 18-16, when the agitation of the north-west- 
 ern boundary difficulties with England seemed to 
 threaten hostilities, Gallatin published a pamphlet 
 on The Oregon. Question, in which he reviewed 
 the matter with impartiality, and urged the pro- 
 priety of a moderate course which would avoid 
 " the scandalous spectacle, perhaps not unwelcome 
 to some of the beholders, of an unnatural and an 
 unnecessary war." The argument was further 
 sustained by a practical appendix of War Expen- 
 ses, in which the veteran financier and political 
 economist drew from his old stores of government 
 experience with effect. He had occasion to re- 
 turn to this topic two years later, when he 
 summed up in a pamphlet the War Expenses of 
 the contest 'with Mexico, and further enforced his 
 pacific benevolent view in a tract in which he 
 surveyed the main conditions of the question, 
 which he entitled Pence with Mexico. This 
 pamphlet was mostly written out, at Mr. Gal- 
 latin's dictation, by his friend J. E. Bartlett. 
 More than one hundred and fifty thou-and copies 
 of it were distributed. It had its effect in direct- 
 ing public opinion and leading to an adjustment 
 of the conflict. The funds for printing this work 
 were raised by subscription. A few friends met 
 at his house nightly to devise means for printing 
 and distributing it. 
 
RICHARD ALSOP. 
 
 495 
 
 Mr. Gallatin died at Astoria, in the vicinity of 
 New York, August 1 2, 184-9. No extended account 
 of his life has yet appeared. In the preparation of 
 the present sketch, we have heen indebted to a 
 biographical article in the Democratic Review for 
 June, 1843, from the pen of William Beach Law- 
 rence. 
 
 In person Mr. Gallatin was of medium height, 
 and in his latter years much bent by age. His 
 features were strongly marked, and his eye re- 
 tained to the last a piercing brilliancy. 
 
 EICHAED ALSOP. 
 This accomplished scholar and refined poetical 
 writer and wit was horn at Middletown, Con- 
 necticut, January 23, 1701. His father, a mer- 
 chant, died when the son was but five years old, 
 leaving him the eldest of eight children. He 
 entered Yale College, but did not graduate 
 there ; indeed his education seems to have been 
 of that kind among the continental languages of 
 Europe, which colleges then supplied inucb less 
 than now, when these interests are still neglected. 
 In after life he was familiarly acquainted witli 
 the Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, from 
 all which he made translations. A portion of his 
 Conquest of Scandinavia appears in the collection 
 of " American Poems" published at Litchfield in 
 1793, among the few new contributions to that 
 volume, five of which were written by him. A 
 translation from the poem of Silins Italicus was 
 among his earliest production". There are 
 among his unpublished MSS. translations from 
 the Italian of Monti, the French of Florian, and 
 the old Greek poem on the Trojan War of Quin- 
 tus Calaber. 
 
 At Hartford, in August, 17(11. among the wits 
 of that town, Alsop, in conjunction with his 
 friend Theodore Dwight, brother of Timothy, 
 wrote the first number of the series of papers, 
 " The Echo." It was published in the American 
 Mercury. With the exception of a few lines 
 written by Drs. Mason F. Cogswell and Elihu H. 
 Smith, and a part of. one or two numbers by Dr. 
 Lemuel Hopkins, the entire work was the pro- 
 duction of Messrs. Alsop and Dwight.* 
 
 The Echo has its title from the cast of these 
 productions, which are parodies or exaggerations 
 of newspaper narratives, popular addresses, go- 
 vernors' speeches and proclamations of the time, 
 which offered numerous specimens, with abun- 
 dant provocation for the witty treatment which 
 they received at the hands of the Hartford 
 wits. 
 
 The Echo caught the noise, fury, and rhodo- 
 montade of orators and the press, and resounded 
 them in louder measure. If a penny-a-liner grew 
 more maudlin and drunken in his style than 
 usual ; if an office-holder played Ids " fantastic 
 tricks," a politician vapored, or a scientific pre- 
 tender bored the public with his ignorance, or a 
 French democratic procession moved at the heels 
 of Genet, it was sure to be heard of from the 
 banks of the Connecticut. Metaphors, with poli- 
 tics, then ran high. As the Conservative party 
 
 * An exact account of this production is given in the Rev. 
 Charles W. Everest's Poets of Connecticut, p. 94; an always 
 interesting work, of sound judgment and careful preparation. 
 Trumbull, it appears, did not write any part of the Echo, as 
 often stated. 
 
 of the country, the Federalists had an advantage, 
 at least in the assumption of authority in the mat- 
 ter, for the force and talent employed being 
 equal, the entrenched party will always laugh 
 the loudest. What began in the Echo with the 
 mirthful travesty of a newspaper article, soon 
 rose to the bitter sarcasm of political controversy. 
 The democracy of the day supplied the motive. 
 In some of the eccentricities of John Hancock 
 there was enough ready material for amusement, 
 while the downright western humor of Bracken- 
 ridge offered more resistance to the treatment. 
 The naivete of the former invited ridicule, while 
 the intentional drollery of the other already occu- 
 pied the ground of satire. It is easy to ridicule a 
 fool, unconscious of his simplicity, but a rival 
 satirist is more difficult game. The New Eng- 
 land echo, however, with its strongly reverberat- 
 ing powers, receiving voices from all parts of the 
 country, was well worth listening to. It had, 
 too, a guarantee for a certain decorum in the ne- 
 cessities of verse. If it fell into railing, the 
 poetical Echo was at least bound to choice words 
 and harmonious numbers — though indifferent 
 enough at times to such refinements — while occa- 
 sionally the victims were under obligation to the 
 wits for embalming their nonsense. 
 
 In the twentieth and last number of the Echo, 
 published in the volume, there is a travesty of 
 Jefferson's Presidential Inaugural of 1805, which 
 illustrates the jaundiced view of politicians for 
 those days. There is nothing in the address 
 which challenges satire ; but as this " Echo" is 
 one of the most polished of these effusions, the 
 reader may be curious to see what was made of 
 the subject, and we have placed a portion of the 
 article among our extracts. The Jeffersonian 
 Gossip on the Indians is an amusing caricature. 
 The gentler pleasantry of the volume, it may be 
 presumed from the disposition shown in his other 
 writings, may be assigned to Alsop; the sharper 
 sarcasm to the severer pen of Theodore Dwight. 
 The book was helped along by a number of 
 comic designs by Tisdale, an artist who was 
 
 £. 
 
496 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 also a clever illustrator of Trumbull's M'Fin- 
 gal* 
 
 To the Echo is appended, in the same volume, 
 A Poet ico-Polit ieal Olio, consisting of Extracts 
 from Democracy, an Epic Poem ; Green House, 
 and other New Year's Verses, which were politi- 
 cal satires of the same school. 
 
 In 1800 Alsop published A Poem to the Me- 
 mory of Washington ,t of which a few couplets 
 will show the temper : — 
 
 Though shone thy life a model bright of praise, 
 
 Not less the example bright thy death portrays ; 
 
 ******* 
 
 In that dread moment awfully serene, 
 
 Ko trace of sufferii g mark'd thy placid mien ; 
 
 No groan, no murmuring plaint escaped thy tongue ; 
 
 No longing shadows o'er thy brow were hung : 
 
 But calm in Christian hope, undamp'd with fear, 
 
 Thou sawest the high reward of virtue near. 
 
 On that bright meed, in surest trust reposed, 
 
 Ab thy firm hand thine eyes expiring closed ; 
 
 Pleased, to the will of Heaven resign'd thy breath, 
 
 Andsmil'd, as nature's struggles closed in death. 
 
 In 1806, the Enchanted lake of the Fairy 
 Morgana appeared from his pen, in New York ; 
 a translation somewhat in the style of Mr. "Way 
 in his versions of the Fabliaux, from the second 
 book of the Orlando Inamorato of Francesco 
 Berni. The prose narrative in the notes, which 
 brings up the story, is written with ease and ele- 
 gance. The portion of the poem chosen for 
 translation is well adapted for separate narra- 
 tion ; and the evident care and pleasure with 
 which the chivalric adventures and imaginative 
 marvels are brought out, give piquancy to the 
 statement, that the author left an unpublished 
 poem, 77(6 Charms of Fancy, to the composition 
 of which Ins studies and genius naturally incited 
 him. This production, which is preserved among 
 the MSS. of the family, was written by Mr. 
 Alsop at an early age. It is in five books, in 
 good heroic measure, supported by ample notes 
 and illustrations from the writer's favorite stores 
 of reading among travellers and natural histo- 
 rians. 
 
 Its plan is a survey of the materials for the 
 exercise of fancy in the remote objects of history 
 or geography, the wonders and luxuries of Egypt, 
 China, and the East, and the newly navigated 
 regions of Polynesia. We may detect the influ- 
 ence of Darwin, who was then the fashionable 
 poet of the day, in his lines. In the opening of 
 one of the cantos ho pays the usual compliments 
 of the day to his brother bards in America. The 
 list was then a short one. 
 
 * Tisdale was a designer, engraver, and miniature painter. 
 He was a native of New England. Dunlap knew lain as a mi- 
 niature painter in New York, in 18C6. He removed to Hart- 
 ford and engaged in business with "The Graphic Company," 
 engraving notes for tiie banks. He wrote a political satire, 
 which he illustrated, entitled '• The Gerrymander/' — Dunlap's 
 Arts of Design., ii. 45. 
 
 t A Poem : sacred to the Memory of George Washington, 
 late President of the United States, and Commander-in-chief 
 of the Armies of the United States. Adapted to the 22d 
 Feb., 1SII0. By P.ichard Alsop. 
 
 " Borne to distant lands thy deeds sublime 
 
 Shall brighten, as they mark the page of time; 
 And ages yet unborn, with glad acclaim, 
 Pronounce a Washington's illustrious name." 
 
 CnARMs of Fancy. 
 Hartford : Printed by Hudson and Goodwin. 1800. 
 
 E'en here, where late unknown to Culture's hand, 
 Thy glooms, Columbia ! spread the savage land, 
 O'er whose wild walks, whose unfrequented Bhade, 
 The Indian sole, rude Son of Nature, stray'd ; 
 Now cultur'd plains extend, and cities smile, 
 And polished manners grace the favour'd soil: 
 Begrim'd with blood where erst the savage fell, 
 Shrieked the wild war-whoop with infernal yell, 
 The Muses sing ; lo ! Trumbull wakes the lyre, 
 With all the fervor of poetic fire. 
 Superior poet I in whose classic strain, 
 In bright accordance wit and fancy reign; 
 Whose powers of genius, in their ample range, 
 Comprise each subject and each tuneful change, 
 Each charm of melody to Phoebus dear, 
 The grave, the gay, the tender, and severe. 
 Majestic I)wight, sublime in epic strain, 
 Paints the fierce horrors of the crimson'd plain; 
 And in Virgilian Barlow's tuneful lines, 
 With added splendor great Columbus shines. 
 
 George Washington is, of course, not forgotten — 
 
 And now, so long divergent from her way, 
 'Mid fairy realms and primal worlds to stray, 
 Allured, the Muse resumes her pristine theme, 
 And hangs delighted o'er Ohio's stream. 
 'Mid these fair scenes, array'd in summer's bloom, 
 Where wilds of fragrance breathe a glad perfume 
 And bright with every flower of richest hues, 
 One vast parterre each beauteous prairie shows; 
 Too oft in fatal strife the bloody plain 
 Has blushed, Columbia! with thy heroes slain, 
 While o'er their mangled forms the savage smil'd, 
 And songs of triumph shook the echoing wild. 
 Here, patriot chief! commene'd thy first essay, 
 The morning promise of thy glorious day! 
 What time the foe their fatal ambush spread, 
 And Britain yielded while her general bled: 
 Here first that martial genius shone display'd, 
 Destin'd in future time thy country's aid, 
 When stern injustice bade her gloomy band 
 In blood and ruin whelm the hapless land, 
 Oppression in his car exulting sate, 
 And Freedom trembled for Columbia's fate. 
 In thee thy country owns, with grateful pride, 
 Her shield in war, in peace her surest guide. 
 Long, generous patriot 1 may that country share 
 Thy prudent counsels and thy guardian care ; 
 Long happy in thy rule, in peace maintain 
 Those various blessings which she bled to gain. 
 While borne to distant lands, thy deeds sublime 
 Shall brighten as they mark the page of time, 
 And ages yet unborn, with glad acclaim. 
 Pronounce a Washington's illustrious name. 
 
 At the close of the poem he indulges in that 
 retrospect of fallen greatness celebrated by so 
 many poets, and which Ivirke White and Macau- 
 lay have anticipated as the fate of London ; but 
 when Bostonia and Philadelphia, a half century 
 ago, were the theme, the poet's imagination had 
 a double task to perform in creating the grandeur 
 to be destroyed : — 
 
 Thus, o'er these climes as bends my airy way, 
 Where Power, grim despot, sjireads his iron sway, 
 Where Desolation rears his baleful crest, 
 'Mid scenes in vain by lavish nature blest; 
 'Mid luxury's riot waste, where Famine reigns 
 And mouldering cities gloom the lonely plains; 
 While o'er their glories past pale Memory sighs, 
 What dreary prospects in idea rise! 
 Is this of realms the fate, the mournful end 
 To which must all inevitably tend ! 
 Must each in turn lament the same sad doom, 
 By heaven prescribed for nations yet to come, 
 
RICHARD ALSOP. 
 
 497 
 
 And as their fame has shone, their empire spread, 
 Misfortune o'er them roll her deepening shade 1 
 Ere long, perhaps, by barbarous rule opprest, 
 Shall Europe's realms this fatal truth atte3t; 
 Ere long, shall haply o'er her beauteous land 
 Stern Desolation wave his sterile wand ; 
 Her fairest plains to desert wastes be turn'd, 
 Her arts neglected, her refinements spurn'd, 
 While moss-grown walls and heaps of ruins rude 
 Shall mark the place where onee her cities stood: 
 Where gay Lutetia's splendid scenes are spread, 
 Shall the rank thistle wave its lonely head; 
 And London's domes, in wild destruction hurl'd, 
 Convey a future moral to the world. 
 Yon cities, too, in infant pride that rise, 
 And shine, Columbia! 'mid thy favor'd skies, 
 Some future day may see in dust o'erthrown, 
 With bramble shadow'd, and with brake o'ergrown; 
 Some future day, the traveller haply come 
 To view their ruins from his distant home, 
 From western shores with brilliant cities grac'd, 
 The seats of science, elegance, and taste, 
 Where now Alaska lifts her forests rude, 
 Or Nootka rolls its solitary flood ; 
 While o'er the spot, contemplative, he strays 
 Where Philadelphia caught the admiring gaze ; 
 'Slid ambient waves Y.ork's proud emporium shone, 
 Or fair Bostonia grac'd her eastern throne: 
 No peopled domes, no spires ascending high, 
 No scenes of culture please his pensive eye, 
 No human voice he hears — the desert plain 
 Knows but the whipperwill's funereal strain, 
 The hern's hoarse clang, or sea-gull's lonely cry, 
 Joiu'd with the moan of winds that sadly sigh 
 O'er many a shatter'd pile and broken stone 
 Of sculptur'd form in mournful unison: 
 Save, haply startled at the human tread, 
 From some gray tomb by withering fern o'erspread, 
 Slow rears the rattle-snake his glistening crest, 
 And fills with deathful sounds the dreary waste. 
 
 In 1808, Alsop published a translation of the 
 Geographical, Natural, and Civil History of 
 Chili, by the Abbe Molina, a native Chilian, 
 driven from his country on the expulsion of the 
 Jesuits, who took refuge with a portion of his 
 manuscripts in Italy, where his work appeared in 
 1787 and 1791. He is methodical and full of in- 
 teresting detail, likely to fall in with the studies 
 of Alsop, who executed his task with literary 
 neatness, and was at the pains to add an abstract 
 of Ercilla's epic, the Araucana, based on the 
 Spanish wars and the fortunes of the natives, — 
 made up from the notes and specimens published 
 by Hayley and the Rev. II. Boyd.* 
 
 Alsop was not a resident of New York, though 
 he spent much of his time there visiting his friend 
 Riley, the bookseller. He died suddenly of an 
 affection of the heart, August 20, 1815, at his 
 home at Flatbush, Long Island, where a monu- 
 ment in the village churchyard has been erected 
 to his memory. 
 
 Alsop was fond of field sports and of natural 
 history. His Long Island residence gave him op- 
 portunity for the former, while his love of the 
 science was shown in his cordial support of the 
 
 * Tho Geographical, Natural, and Civil Ilistory of Chili, by 
 Abbi Don J. Ignatius Molina. Illustrated by a half-sheet map 
 of the country, wilh notes from the Spanish and French ver- 
 sions, and an appendix, containing copious extracts from the 
 Araucana of Don Alonzo de Erciila. Translated from the 
 original Italian, by an American Gentleman. 2 vols. Svo. 
 Middletown (Conn.) : printed for J. Eiley, 1S0S. 
 VOL. I. — 32 
 
 ornithologist Wilson at Middletown, and his care 
 in preparing a collection of birds, which is still 
 preserved in the family, the neatness and dura- 
 bility of which prove him to have been an ac- 
 complished taxidermist. In New York he was 
 often to be seen at the book-store of Caritat in 
 the old City Hotel, and formed one, in those days 
 of more marked social distinction than the pre- 
 sent, of a society of which Kent, Dunlap, Wm. 
 Johnson, Brockden Brown, Mitchill, and the an- 
 tagonist of the Federal politics of the Echo, 
 Philip Freneau, were members.* 
 
 The youngest brother of Richard, John Alsop, 
 was a writer of verses, which lie. kept in manu- 
 script. The specimens published in Everest's 
 Poets of Connecticut are creditable to his taste and 
 cultivation. He was born at Middletown, Feb. 5, 
 1776. He was a pupil of Dr. Dwight, and at- 
 tended the law-school of Judge Reeve at Litch- 
 field, practised law at New London, and was 
 afterwards a bookseller at Hartford and at New 
 York. He passed the latter part of his life in 
 retirement at Middletown, where he died, Nov. 1, 
 1841. The following is from his pen: — 
 
 Soft slumbers now, with downy fingers, close 
 Th' o'erwearied eye of labour and of care; 
 
 Now nothing wakes to break night's deep repose, 
 But I who vainly strive to hush despair. 
 
 Slowly I wander through the sacred grounds, 
 The cold and lowly mansions of the dead ; 
 
 Beneath my steps the hollow earth resounds, 
 And moaning spectres near me, beckoning, tread. 
 
 Awful, unearthly feelings sway the soul, 
 
 As midnight throws her blackest horrors round ; 
 
 I hear afar the airy death-bell toll, 
 
 And faint, low waitings rising from the ground. 
 
 Here in this spot obscure she sleeps, I cry, 
 She, in whom all a woman's virtues shone; ' 
 
 Unhonored here her mouldering relics lie, 
 
 Marked by the moss-grown, rudely-sculptured 
 
 stone. 
 
 thou ! who fondly o'er my cradle hung, 
 My little, tottering footsteps led with care, 
 
 My infant woes to sleep so often sung, 
 
 And watched o'er all my devious life with prayer! 
 
 Though grief, too late, now prompts the bitter tear, 
 That my wild follies caused thee many a pang, 
 
 Yet may thy guardian spirit, from its sphere, 
 Still o'er my paths with holy influence hang ! 
 
 What though too oft, when friends in death repose. 
 Their memories vanish from the inconstant mind. 
 
 As o'er the wreck the whelming billows close, 
 And, ceaseless shifting, leave no trace behind — 
 
 Yet e'er for me shall memory's tablets bear, 
 Impressions deep that time can ne'er erase ; 
 
 The few slight stains of error disappear, 
 And all thy virtues brighter there I trace. 
 
 O'er her low grave, by all but me forgot, 
 Of her oblivious fate I thus complained; 
 
 Deplored her hapless death, my friendless lot, 
 And madly Heaven and its decrees arraigned. 
 
 With grief o'erpowered my languid frame reclined, 
 In the drear gloom, a parent's ashes near; 
 
 * We are indebted for theso personal reminiscences of Alsop 
 to Dr. Francis, who knew well the whole circle in which Alsop 
 moved. 
 
498 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 A spirit moves upon the rustling wind, 
 
 And these low-breathed, these soothing sounds I 
 hear. 
 
 Enough for me, that, numbered with the dead, 
 At close of summer's day, when dews descend, 
 
 The simple stone that tells where I am laid, 
 May wake remembrance in some passing friend. 
 
 And though no more than this inglorious stone, 
 
 Of all life's anxious vanities remain, 
 Peace! dull oblivion hides not me alone, 
 
 But over bards and kings extends his reign. 
 
 Why sorrowest thou ? For me why this despair? 
 
 Could grief recall the tenant of the tomb, 
 Wouldst thou my mortal burden I should bear, 
 
 And quit for earth the blest ethereal dome ? 
 She ceased — and now, each fevered passion hushed, 
 
 No more my falling tears bedew her sod ; 
 But with new hopes, with sacred feelings flushed, 
 
 The soul holds pure communion with its God. 
 Now from the world remote, its woes, its ill, 
 
 A holy tranquil sorrow swaj's the breast, 
 Bids this poor heart's wild throbbing pulse be still, 
 
 And gives the calm of heaven's eternal rest. 
 
 A NEWSPAPER TI1UNDER STORM.* 
 
 Boston, July 14th, 1791. 
 
 On Tuesday last, about 4 o'clock p.m., came on a smart shower 
 of rain attended with lightning and thunder, no ways remark- 
 able. The clouds soon dissipated, and the appearance of the 
 azure vault left trivial hopes of further needful supplies from 
 the uncorked bottle* of heaven. Iu a few moments the horizon 
 was again overshadowed, and an almost impenetrable gloom 
 mantled the face of the skies. The wind frequently shifting 
 from one poiutto another, wafted the clouds in various direc- 
 tions, until at last they united in one common centre, and 
 shrouded the visible globe in thick darkness. The attendant 
 lightning, with the accompanying thunder, brought forth from 
 the treasures that embattled elements to awful conflict, were 
 extremely vivid, and amazing loud. Those buildings that 
 were defended by electric rods, appeared to be wrapped in 
 sheets of livid flame, and a flood of the pure fire rolled its 
 burning torrents down them with alarming violence. The 
 majestic roar of disploding thunders, now bursting with a sud- 
 den crash, and now wasting the rumbling j.ciio of their 
 sounds in other lands, added indescribable grandeurto the sub- 
 lime scene. The windows of the upper regions appeared as 
 thrown wide open, and the trembling cataract poured impetu- 
 ous down. More salutary showers, and more needed, have 
 not been experienced this summer. Several previous weeks 
 had exhibited a melancholy sight : the verdure of fields was 
 nearly destroyed; and the patient husbandman almost experi- 
 enced despair. Two beautiful rainbows, the one existing in its 
 native glories, and the other a splendid reflection of primitive 
 colours, closed the magnificent picture, and presented to the 
 contemplative mind, the angel of mercy, cloathcd with the 
 brilliance of this irradiated arch, and dispensing felicity to as- 
 sembled worlds. 
 
 It is not unnatural to expect that the thunder storm would 
 be attended with some damage. We hear a barn belonging to 
 Mr. Wythe of Cambridge, caught fire from the lightning, 
 which entirely consumed the same, together with several tons 
 of hay, &c. 
 
 nAETFORD, AUGUST 8, 1791. 
 
 " Those mighty tales which great events rehearse-, 
 To famewe consecrate in deathless versa /" 
 
 On Tuesday last great Sol, with piercing eye, 
 Pursued his journey thro' the vaulted sky, 
 And in his ear effulgent roll'd his way 
 Four hours beyond the burning zone of day ; 
 When lo ! a cloud, o'ershadowing all the plain, 
 From countless pores perspir'd a liquid rain, 
 While from its cracks the lightnings made a peep, 
 And chit-chat thunders roek'd our fears asleep. 
 But soon the vapoury fog dispers'd in air, 
 And left the azure blue-eyed concave bare : 
 Even the last drop of hope, which dripping skies 
 Gave for a moment to our straining eyes, 
 Like Boston Hum, from heaven's junk bottles broke, 
 Lost all the corks, and vanish'd into smoke. 
 
 * The Echo. No. I. 
 
 But swift from worlds unknown, a fresh supply 
 Of vapour dimm'd the great horizon's eye ; 
 The crazy clouds, by shifting zephyrs driven, 
 Wafted their courses through the high-arched heaven, 
 Till pil'd aloft in one stupendous heap, 
 The seen and unseen worlds grew dark, and nature 
 
 'gan to weep. 
 Attendant lightnings stream'd their tails afar, 
 And social thunders wak'd ethereal war, 
 From dark deep pockets brought their treasur'd store, 
 Embattled elements increased the roar, — 
 Red crinkling fires expended all their force, 
 And tumbling rumblings steer'd their headlong 
 
 course. 
 Those guarded frames by thunder poles* seeur'd, 
 Tho' wrapp'd in sheets of flame, those sheets endur'd, 
 O'er their b oad roofs the fiery torrents roll'd, 
 And every shingle seem'd of burning gold. 
 Majestic thu deis, with disploding roar, 
 And sudden crashing, boune'd along the shore, 
 Till, lost in o her hinds, the whispering sound 
 Fled from our ears and fainted on the ground. 
 Rain's house-)- on high its window sashes op'd, 
 And out the cataract impetuous hopp'd, 
 While the grand scene by far more grand appear'd 
 With lightnings never seen and thunders never 
 heard. 
 More salutary showers have not been known, 
 To wash dame Nature's dirty homespun gown — 
 For several weeks the good old Joan's been seen, 
 With filth bespatter'd like a lazy quean. 
 The husbandman fast travelling to despair, 
 Laid down his hoe and took his rocking chair, 
 i While his fat wife the well and cistern dried, 
 , Her mop grown useless hung it up and cry'd. 
 Two rain-bows fair that Iris brought along, 
 ' Pick'd from the choicest of her color'd throng; 
 The first-born deck'd in pristine hues of light, 
 1 In all its native glories glowing bright, 
 i The next adorn'd with less refulgent rays, 
 ! But borrowing lustre from its brother's blaze ; 
 ! Shone a bright reflex of those colours gay 
 That deck'd with light creation's prinral day, 
 When infant Nature lisp'd her earliest notes, 
 And younher Adam crept in petticoats: 
 And to the people to reflection given, 
 ! " The sons of Boston, the elect of heaven." 
 Presented Mci cy's Angel smiling fair, 
 Irradiate splendors frizzled in his hair, 
 Uncorking demijohns,^ and pouring down, 
 I Heaven's liquid blessings on the gaping town. 
 K.B. At Cambridge town, the self-same day, 
 A barn was burnt wcll-fill'd with hay. 
 Some say the lightning turned it red, 
 Some say the thunder struck it dead, 
 Some say it made the cattle stare, 
 And some it kill'd an aged mare ; 
 But we expect the truth to learn, 
 From Mr. Wythe, who own'd the barn.§ 
 
 * Vulgarly lightning rods. 
 
 + The old gentleman from whose cellar the junk bottles and 
 demi-johns were taken. 
 
 X Otherwise called demi-jars ; but the above is preferred as 
 the most elegant, being a species of the prosopopeia. 
 
 § These pretentious narratives of the newspapers were 
 satirized in 18l 1 by Warren Dutton, a Yale College Poet, in 
 his Present State of Literature. This description of a launch, 
 suggested by a New York paper, has a prettily managad 
 simile: — , 
 
 In conscious pride, the daughter of the wood, 
 Half pleas'd. tho' fearful, near old ocean stood; 
 The ocean's heir her beauteous features ey'd, 
 And much he wished to take her for his bride. 
 With coy reserve, and amorous delay, 
 She stops and looks, then glides along her way; 
 At length resolv'd, she nods, with peerless grace, 
 And rushes, blooming, to his fond embrace. 
 Dcnnie'B Portfolio, Jan. 17, 1801. 
 
RICHARD ALSOP. 
 
 499 
 
 GOVERNOR HANCOCK'S MESSAGE ON STAGE PLAYS.* 
 
 From the Columbian Cenlinel of Nov. 10, 1792. 
 Concord, November S. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Senate, and 
 
 " Gentlemen of the, Home of Representatives, 
 
 " I should for my own, as well as for your convenience, have 
 been glad to have met you at the ancient seat of our Govem- 
 meit; bat as it has pleased the Most High, to visit that, as 
 ■well as many other of our towns, with a troublesome and con- 
 tagious disease, I have, with the advice of the Council, thought 
 it most for your safety and comfort to convene you at this 
 place. 
 
 "Gentlemen, 
 
 " I am urged, by sense of duty, to communicate to you my 
 mind upon a transaction, which I cannot but consider an an 
 open insult upon the Laws and Government of the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 "In the year one thousand seven huudred and fifty, the 
 legislature ol this then province of Massacfa isetts Bay, passed 
 an act. entitled, ' An Act to prevent Stage I J iays, and other 
 Theatrical Entcrtai intents.' 
 
 " The preamb.e uf the Act is in these words, ' For prevent- 
 ing and avoiding manygreat mischiefs, which arise from public 
 Stage Plays, Interludes, and other Theatrical Entertainments; 
 which not only occasion great and unnecessary expenses, and 
 discourage industry and frugality : but likewise tend generally 
 to increase immorality, impiety, and a contempt of religion. 1 
 
 41 The act is now a law of the commonwealth; the principles 
 upon which it is predicated, have been recognised by, and de- 
 rived support from the consideration of several legislatures; 
 and surely it ought to claim the respect and obedience of all 
 persons who live or happen to be within the Commonwealth. 
 Vet a number of aliens and foreigners have lately entered the 
 Btate, and in the metropolis of the government, under adver- 
 tisements insulting to the habits and education of the citizens, 
 have been pleased to invite them to, and to exhibit before such 
 as attended, Stage Play*, Ini rind is, and Thatrieal Enter- 
 tain m aits, under the style and appellation of 'Moral Lectures. 
 This fact is so notorious, that it i> in vain to attempt a conceal- 
 ment of its coming to our knowledge. 
 
 '• Whether the Judicial Departments, whose business it is, 
 have attended to this subject or not, 1 am unable, to determine ; 
 but this I am convinced of. that no measures have been taken 
 to puni-h a most open breach of the laws, and a most contemp- 
 tuous insult upon tile powers of the government. 
 
 11 You, Gentlemen, are the guardians of the Commonwealth's 
 dignity and honour; and our fellow-citizens rely upon your 
 vigilance and wisdom, for the support of the sovereignty and 
 importance of the Government. I therefore refer this matter 
 to your determinations; and cannot but hope that your resolu- 
 tions and measures will give efficacy to the laws, and bo the 
 means of .bringing to condign punihrnent those who dare to 
 treat them with contempt or open opposition. 11 
 
 Gentles, of either kind, both small and great, 
 Props of our laws, aud pillars of oar state; 
 Tito' words would fail, aud language* self prove weak, 
 My joy, in seeing yon once more, to speak; 
 While in this fleshly bottle closely pent, 
 So strong expression struggles for a vent, 
 Ere I can draw the cork, 1 fear, alas ! 
 'Twill burst the frail contexture of my glass. 
 Yet, had this joy been even more complete 
 Could I have met you at our ancient Seat, 
 Near Faneuil Hall, to me for ever dear, 
 Where first I enter'd on my great career; 
 Whose walls, so soft, my presence bade rejoice, 
 Which oft in transport echoed to my voice, 
 When rose 'gainst Britain, its tremendous roar, 
 And shook her distant isle, from shore to shore ; 
 So when stern Jove, to vengeful anger driven, 
 Rolls the black tempest o'er the expanse of heaven, 
 Loud peals of thunder on the storm arise, 
 And the red lightning quivers o'er the skies; 
 From central depths disturb'd the Ocean raves, 
 And high to heaven upheaves his briny waves; 
 From its deep base the cloud-veil'd mountain shakes ; 
 The firm rock trembles, and the valley quakes ; 
 All nature, shuddering, owns the dreadful nod, 
 And shrinks before the terrors of the God. 
 There Freedom, then a chick, unfledg'd and bare, 
 /kindly brooded with a mother's care; 
 Taught her to creep, to hop, to run, to' fly, 
 
 * The Echo. No. IX. 
 
 And gave her wings to lift herself on high, 
 'Till perfect grown, she came, at length, to soar 
 -To heights uuthotight of, but by me, before. 
 In that loved spot, could you but have met ! 
 " But fate denies, and man must yield to fate ;" 
 Since the Small-pox, Death's Vicar here on earth, 
 Who, stern, respects nor dignities, nor worth, 
 O'er that sad place, now sunk in dire dismay, 
 Waves his pale banners, and extends his sway, 
 Wide pours contagious poison from his breath, 
 Deforms the face, and shuts the eyes in death, 
 And still uncheek'd, his grisly triumph leads, 
 Nor votes regards, nor resolutions heeds ; 
 Those votes, by which, that man of patriot soul 
 Who o'er Town-Meetings held unmatch'd controul, 
 Far-fam'd Sam Adams thought to fright away, 
 This curst disease, for ever, and for aye: 
 Therefore it is, by heaven's peculiar grace, 
 That I've tin 'light fit to call you to this place. 
 
 But Gentlemen ! a thing unmention'd yet, 
 Enough to throw you in a dog-day sweat ; 
 A thing, perchance, which you, as well as /, 
 Have seen, some time, with many an aching eye; 
 Since, above measure bold, it scorns disguise ; 
 And proudly stares us in the face and eyes; 
 A thing, most vile, most dreadful in its kind, 
 Hangs, like a mill-stone, heavy on my mind; 
 By conscience urged, in duty's cause made bold, 
 To you this wicked thing I shall unfold, 
 Since plain enough to me is its intent, 
 An open insult on my government 
 
 Long since, while Britain with maternal hand, 
 Cheer'd the lov'd offspring of Columbia's land; 
 Ere prond oppression bade that offspring brave 
 Assert their rights, and scorn the name of slave, 
 Ere o'er the world had flown my mob-rais'd fame, 
 And George and Britain trembled ntrny name; 
 This State, then Province, pass'd with wise intent, 
 An Act, Stage-Plays, aud such things to prevent: 
 You'll find it, sirs, among the Laws sky blue, 
 Made near that time on brooms when Witches flew, 
 That blessed time when Law kept wide awake, 
 Proscribed the faithless, and made Quakers quake; 
 And thus, in terms sublime /state the fact, 
 Runs the Preamble of this precious Act. 
 
 Both for preventing, and avoiding, all 
 Those various evils which would sure befall 
 Our sober people, and their sober ways, 
 From Interludes, and vile Theatric Plays ; 
 To wit, all fiddling, fighting, gaming, raking, 
 Swearing profane, high broils, and sabbath breaking ; 
 
 This Act, so full of wisdom and so good, 
 Has now become a Law well understood ; 
 Since it has often been confirm'd, you see, 
 By many a Legislature great as we. 
 Yet, notwithstanding this, some chaps uncivil, 
 Grand emissaries of our foe the Devil, 
 Aliens, and Foreigners, and Actors funny, 
 Who less esteem our morals than our money; 
 Even in our holy Capital of late, 
 Have dared insult the majesty of state, 
 Ami to exhibit publicly, propose, 
 Stage-Plays, and Interludes, and Heathen Shows; 
 Which, in the garb of Moral Lectures drest, 
 Uf our good, sober manners make ajest. 
 Vet so obnoxious to the people's notions, 
 So strange, so foreign to their constitutions, 
 That well /am convinced they never go, 
 From motives of amusement, to the Show ; 
 But, like good, honest folks, with mere intent, 
 To keep these Actors under some restraint. 
 Judge, Gentlemen ! my feelings, when at first, 
 This information on my ear-drum burst: 
 Not. more was Israel's hapless King appall'd, 
 When Endor's witch the ghost of Samuel call'd, 
 
500 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 And, slowly rising from the shades of night, 
 The frowning spectre met his startled sight. 
 Not more bold Elderkin with terror shook, 
 Not more dismay was pictured in his look, 
 When Windham's Sons, at midnight's awful hour 
 Heard from afar, the hoarse discordant roar, 
 Of Bull-Frog sorrow groaning on the wind, 
 Denouncing death and ruin to mankind; 
 While one supposed the tawny Myriads near, 
 And heard their War-whoops thunder in his ear: 
 Another thought Old Nick was sure a coming, 
 Since none but Belial's bands could make such drum- 
 ming; 
 Vet each, prepar'd, his proper weapon took, 
 While one his bible hugg'd, and one his musket 
 
 shook.* 
 Wild consternation on my visage hung, 
 Congeal'd my blood, and every nerve unstrung ; 
 O'er my whole frame a palsying horror flew, 
 And sense, retiring, bade a long adieu. 
 So Cain, the fratricide, when deep disgrace 
 Fix'd its black brand upon his guilty face, 
 Fled from the crime of brother Abel's blood, 
 And took lone lodgings in the Land of Nod. 
 
 Whether the magistrates all this have known 
 I do not know ; but this I know, that none 
 Have taken care, whatever their intent, 
 These fellows' pranks, and postures, to prevent ; 
 Ne'er have laid hold of thein witli law's strong 
 
 hand, 
 And fairly brought the scoundrels to a stand, 
 Nor to the whipping-post the rogues have tied, 
 Where oft cash-pay is chang'd to pay in hide. 
 With joy extreme, gentlemen ! in you 
 The firm upholders of the laws I view, 
 On you devolves the task (I grant it great), 
 To keep unstain'd the chasteness of our State: 
 Since that good lady is beset so sore 
 By rakes and libertines full many a score, 
 That much 1 fear me, do whate'er you can, 
 She'll be debauch'd by that unrighteous clan. 
 But this at least I hope, that, if unable 
 To keep with all your might, her virtue stable, 
 You will not fail to show this wicked sect, 
 You know to punish, though you can't protect ; 
 And whate'er punishment you shall devise, 
 As to your noble judgments seemeth wise; 
 Whether you burn, drown, knock them on the head, 
 Or hang them by the neck, 'till dead, dead, dead — 
 Or with a neighbour State, so very tender, 
 Loth to extend the neck of an offender, 
 Prefer the hanging business to commute 
 For private prayers and some small goods\ to boot — 
 I hope a great example it will stand, 
 And in terroreni guard our pious land. 
 
 * For a particular account of this remarkable occurrence, ex- 
 tracted from Peters's History of Connecticut, see ante, p. 192. 
 It has been also he subject of two pleasant ballads, which will 
 bo found in M'Carty's Collection and Barber's Historical Col- 
 lections of Connecticut. The former commences — 
 
 When these free states were colonies 
 
 Unto the mother nation ; 
 And, i i Connecticut, the good 
 
 Old Blue Laws were in fashion. 
 
 A circumstance which there oecurr'd, 
 
 (And much the mind surprises 
 Upon reflection.) tiiere gave rise 
 
 To many strange surmises. 
 
 In the second it is turned at the expense of the lawyers, who 
 were suddenly brought to repentai ce by ;he fright. 
 
 + For an explanation of the above, vide the Archives of Con- 
 necticut, wherein it may be found that on a certain occasion 
 of commutative justice, the sheriif was directed to furnish the 
 criminal with the consolation of his prayers. 
 
 JEFFEESON'S INAUGURAL. — INDIAN AMELIORATIONS. 1805.* 
 
 Among the deeds economy has wrought,' 
 High rank the num'rous tracts of hind we've bought: 
 Our country's limits constantly extend 
 O'er boundless wilds and rivers without end, 
 Nations are bargain'd for by sleight of hand, 
 We soon shall purchase old Van Diemen's land, 
 Beyond Cape Horn our speculations roll, 
 " And all be our's around the Southern pole." 
 What though no boundary to our views are set, 
 And every bargain swells the public debt, 
 Unlike all other modes of gaining pelf, 
 Before we're sued this debt will pay itself. 
 And though our title deeds, by strange mischance, 
 Instead of Spain are sign'd and seal'd by France, 
 The limits too, not definitely fix'd, 
 Lie somewhere this and t'other world betwixt, 
 For fear some quarrel should hereafter rise 
 We've given our obligations for the price. 
 I grant some minds, of weak aud fearful mould, 
 Instead of buying think we'd better sold, 
 Lest first or last, by some unseen mishap, 
 So greatly streteh'd, our union cord should snap— 
 'Tis true, indeed, a leather string will break 
 If streteh'd too far ; but much do I mistake 
 If ever mortal broke a string of leather 
 By tying first a dozen strings together. 
 And can it be that as we larger grow 
 At the same moment we grow smaller too ? 
 This does not quadrate with dame nature's course ; 
 She gives to pigmies weakness, giants force; 
 The mighty Mammoth stronger is by half 
 Than the slim stag, the bullock than the calf. 
 Thus should this great Republic once expaud 
 From shore to shore and cover every land, 
 In like proportion would our strength abide, 
 And we could manage all the world beside. 
 
 And when our children leave our fost'ring arms, 
 And roam the western wilderness for farms, 
 On banks remote to see them peaceful toil, 
 Lords of the stream, and masters of the soil, 
 Is better far than on the self-same place 
 To meet with squattersf of a different race, 
 With whom, perhaps, possess'd of better right, 
 We cannot get along unless we fight. 
 
 Oft have the dark-skinn'd natives of the wild 
 Our tenderest thoughts engag'd, our love beguil'd ; 
 At their sad story oft we've felt our breast 
 With soft compassion's throbbing pangs opprest, 
 That story sad, by fiction's hand adorn'd, 
 Where hapless Logan for his offspring mourn'd4 
 What time, by cruel Cresap's murd'rous knife, 
 Poor Squaw and Poppoose both were reft of life. 
 Long since we've prov'd from philosophic ken, 
 The squaws are women and their sanaps men ; 
 Though, far unlike our European race, 
 No bristly beards their polish'd chins disgrace, 
 O'er their smooth frames no hairs unseemly spread, 
 Nor aught displays that covering but the head, 
 Yet nature prompts them with the same desires, 
 And with like feelings aud like passions fires. 
 
 When, fresh from Sov'reign Nature's plastic hand, 
 Shone in the bloom of youth this blissful land, 
 Good, simple, harmless, nor with blood defil'd, 
 Liv'd the poor Indian 'mid the desert wild. 
 Close by some crystal stream his wigwam stood, 
 The skins of deer his dress, their flesh his food ; 
 Few were his wants, and his desires but few, 
 
 * The Echo. No. XX. 
 
 T Persons who settle on vacant lands in the wilderness, with- 
 out title, and who are with much difficulty removed. 
 
 X For this story, sec Notes on Virginia, aud for its authenti- 
 city, the letters of Luther Martin, Esq. 
 
RICHARD ALSOP. 
 
 501 
 
 No bliss beyond his pipe and squaw he knew, 
 Small as his wants his homely household gear 
 Inspired, from nightly theft, no cause of fear, 
 With various hues his deer-skin mantle dyed, 
 By night his covering, and by day hio pride, 
 A pot of stone, his succotash* to boil, 
 A huge samp-mortar, wrought with patient toil, 
 These were his riches, these his simple store, 
 And having these he sought for nothing more : — 
 Thus liv'd he blest, what time from Cambria's strand, 
 Advent'rous Madoe sought this unknown laud. 
 With swords and bibles arm'd the Welsh appear, f 
 Their faith to 'stablish and their empire rear ; 
 Struck with surprise the simple savage sees 
 The pictur'd dragon waving in the breeze, 
 Hears with delight the harp's wild music play, 
 As sweet the strings respond to Gryffidd's lay ; 
 But when th' advancing squadrons forward move, 
 Their arms bright gleaming 'mid the dusky grove, 
 Joy yields to fear, as now, approaching nigh, 
 Their dress and uncouth features meet his eye; — 
 And when their barb'rous Celtic sounds he hears, 
 That grate discordant on his tender ears, 
 Fill'd with wild tenor from the scene he scuds, 
 And seeks retreat amidst impervious woods, 
 While, in pursuit, behind th' affrighted man 
 " The o'erflowing stream of population ran." 
 His wigwam swept away, his patch of corn, 
 Before the fury of the torrent borne; 
 Drove him from wood to wood, from place to place, 
 And now for hunting leaves him little space. 
 
 Then since, beneath this widely-spreading tide, 
 Sunk are the grounds that Indian wants supplied, 
 Few are their deer, their buffaloes are dead, 
 Or o'er the lakes with mighty Mammoth fled ; 
 Humanity has whisper'd in our ear, 
 Whose dictates ever have we held most dear, 
 To teach them how to spin, to sew, to knit, 
 And for their stockings manufacture feet, 
 Since by their " energies' exertions" sole 
 Can they e'er figure on Existence roll. 
 We therefore liberally to them have sent 
 Such household matters as for use are meant, 
 Pots, kettles, trenchers, dripping-pans, whate'er 
 Their kitchens lack, their victuals to prepare, 
 And with them skilful men to teach them how 
 To still their whisky, their tobacco grow ; — 
 While, to secure them from domestic harm, 
 We've lifted o'er them, with our thundering arm, 
 The law's broad E;/is, under which as still 
 And safe they lie " as thieves within a mill." 
 But vain th' attempt to this Imperial Day, 
 To light their dusky souls with reason's ray, 
 To make them quit their guns and scalping knives, 
 And stay at home contented with their wives ; 
 Most powerful obstacles this scheme prevent, 
 Thwart my fine plans, and frustrate my intent: — 
 Firstly their bodies' habits different are, 
 And different med'eine claim, and different care, 
 No neutral mixture will fur them suffice 
 Of gentle acids and mild alkalies ; 
 But powerful Blood-root, Oil of Rattlesnake, 
 Jerusalem Oak, and Gum of Haemetac. 
 Nor simple blood-lettings their pains assuage, 
 
 * The Indian name for the mixture of Indian corn, or maize, 
 with beans. 
 
 t One of these very Bibles is said to have been discovered, 
 not many years since, in the possession of the Welsh Indians, 
 who have excited so much curiosity, and who preserved with 
 a sanctimonious reverence this relict of their ancestors, al- 
 though they were unable to read it, and ignorant of its use. 
 It is to be hoped that the gentleman appointed by the Presi- 
 dent to explore the western part of this Continent may, in his 
 researches, be so fortunate as to fall in with this tribe, and ob- 
 tain from them this curious and invaluable deposit. 
 
 Warm their cold chills, and quell their fever's rage, 
 Meaus far more potent their tough frames require, 
 And the free use of lancets and of fire. 
 Besides as ne'er the Indian's chin appears 
 Mark'd with a beard, howe'er mature his years, 
 Of course no barber's hand, with razor keen, 
 No barber's pole amidst the tribes are seen. — 
 Great marts of knowledge, form'd the world to bless. 
 i The seats of scandal, polities and dress ! 
 1 From barbers' shops what benefits we trace ? 
 j How great their 'vantage to the human race? 
 
 That source of civil culture unpossess'd, 
 ] What wonder reason slowly fills the breast ? 
 | Thou knight renown'd ! possess'd of equal skill 
 The comb to flourish, or to ply the quill. 
 Whose bright effusions, wondring, oft I see, 
 And own myself in message beat by thee, 
 would'st thou, Hucuins,* to the Indians go, 
 And on their chins give mighty beards to grow, 
 Soon should thy shop o'er all their wigwams rise, 
 And painted pole attract their curious eyes, 
 While the glad tribes would thither thick repair, 
 And claim in turn the honours of thy chair. 
 Methinks amid the newly-bearded band, 
 With brush and lather arm'd, I see thee stand, 
 And as each visage gleams with foamy white, 
 And wields thy dexter hand the razor bright, 
 Thy eloquence pervades, refines the whole ; 
 And pours the beams of reason o'er their soul, 
 While white-wigg'd savages, with loud acclaim, 
 Thee as the People's Friend, and President shall 
 name. 
 Thrice happy time ; when, freed from Error's 
 night, 
 Reason's broad beam shall shed her mid-day light, 
 O'er realms regenerate ope unbouuded day, 
 And bless the Indians with its brightest ray, 
 Drive the thick mist from their bewildered eyes, 
 Give them their former habits to despise, 
 While they partakers of our equal right, 
 In civic feasts and whiskey shall delight. 
 But much we doubt that ne'er within our reign, 
 Will Indian manners such refinement gain ; 
 For ah! among them live some crafty dogs, 
 Change-haters, anti-philosophic rogues, 
 Chaps who, though something, are of nothing made, 
 Mere forms of air and phantoms of the shade ; 
 Who say 'tis better in the ancient way 
 Safe to go on, than in new paths to stray, 
 Where bogs and precipices lurk beneath, 
 And ignes fotui point the way to death, 
 That civic feasts with Indians suit but ill, 
 And rum and whiskey are contriv'd to kill, 
 That wdiat the whites the light of reason call 
 Is but another name for cheating all, 
 
 * Earbe.r Huggins, at the beginning of the century, afforded 
 much amusement in New York by the parodies and fanciful 
 flights of his professional advertisements, in the Evening Post, 
 Morning Chronicle, and other papers, which were generally 
 written with considerable cleverness. They were collected 
 into an entertaining volume in 1808, with the following title : 
 " Hugginiana or Huggins' Fantasy, being a collection of the 
 most esteemed modern literary productions, exposing the art 
 of making a noise in the world, without beating a drum'or 
 crying oysters; and showing how, like wliittington of old, 
 who rose from nothing to be Lord Mayor of London, a mere 
 Barber may become an Emperor, if he has but spirit enough 
 to assume, and talents enough to support the title. By John 
 Richard Desborus Huggios, Empcreur du Friseurs, Boi du 
 Barbieres, &c, &c. Trifles, light as air. — Siiaksi>eare. New 
 York : Printed by H. C. Soulhwiek. No. 2 Wall street, Most 
 Excellent Printer to his most Barber-ous majesty. 1 ' Huggins 
 was the butt of the town, and doubtless turned his notoriety 
 to profitable account. His business advertisements, mixed up 
 with the politics and small humors of the day, supplied a 
 vehicle for the wits to pass their squibs to the public. Paro- 
 dies of the imperial proclamations of Buonaparte by the 
 Emperor of Barbers were among the best of them. 
 
502 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And that by equal right is meant, 'tis plain, 
 The right by force or fraud whate'er they list to gain. 
 Thus like the Feds, to reason they pretend, 
 Suspect our motives, and decry our end. 
 
 Where action too with counteraction jars, 
 And wild misrule 'gainst order fiercely wars, 
 Anti-philosophers with scorn reject 
 Th' ealighfuing doctrines of our favour' d Bed, ; 
 Bigots of mouldy creeds, that long ago 
 The Goddess Reason taught were idle show, 
 Their superstitious whims and habits hold, 
 Reject the new and cleave unto the old : 
 In vain reform in Gallic mantle drest, 
 Unbinds her zone, and wooes them to her breast, 
 And innovation's meretricious smile 
 Attempts their rigid firmness to beguile. 
 Strange that such prejudice in chains should bi:.d 
 In our enlighten'd days the human kind ! 
 Fools must they be, by dulness sure possess'd, 
 In their old way contented to be blest, 
 "When novelty, with all-alluring charms 
 Of untried systems, lures them to her arms. 
 
 SUSANNA EOWSON, 
 
 The author of the popular little romance of Char- 
 lotte Temple, of many books of greater labor and 
 of less fame, and of the lyric of America, C 'ommeree, 
 and Freedom, was born about the year 1762. 
 Her father was "William Haswell, a British naval 
 officer, who in 1709 was wrecked in company with 
 his daughter on Lovell's Island, on the New Eng- 
 land coast, after which they settled at Nantasket, 
 where the father, a widower, married again, and 
 whence he was compelled to depart, as a British sub- 
 ject, on the breaking out of the Revolutionary war. 
 
 His daughter appears to have followed him to 
 London, where in 1786 she married William 
 Kowson, leader of the band attached to the 
 Royal Guards in London* Her first work was 
 published the same year, a novel, entitled Victo- 
 ria ; followed by Mary, or the Taut of Honor, the 
 matter of which was partly put into her hands 
 by the bookseller ; A Trip to Parnassus, a Cri- 
 tique on Authors and Performers, Fille de Chcun- 
 bre, the Inquisitor, or Invisible Rambler, Mcnto- 
 ria, and Charlotte Temple. Of the latter twenty- 
 five thousand copies were sold in a few years. It 
 is a tale of seduction, the story of a young girl 
 brought over to America by a British officer and 
 deserted, and being written in a melodramatic 
 style lias drawn tears from the public freely as 
 any similar production on the stage. It is. still a 
 popular classic at the cheap book-stalls and with 
 travelling chapmen. The Inquisitor is avowedly 
 modelled on Sterne, and the honest heart of the 
 writer has doubtless a superior sensibility, though 
 the sharp wit and knowledge of the world of the 
 original are not feminine qualities, and are not to 
 be looked for from a female pen. 
 
 In 1793 Mrs. Rowson came with her husband 
 to America, under an engagement with Wignell, 
 the manager of the Philadelphia theatre. She had 
 appeared in England in the provincial theatres, 
 and was successful in light comedy and musical 
 pieces. While engaged on the stage in America she 
 wrote The Trials of the Heart, a novel ; Slates in 
 Algiers, an opera; The Volunteers, a farce found- 
 
 * Buckingham, in his Personal Memoirs, speaks of " the 
 sublime and spirit-stirring tones of tiiis gentleman's trumpet, 
 when lie played for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, the 
 accompaniment to the air in the Messiah, 'The trumpet shall 
 bound and the dead shall be raised. 1 " 
 
 ed on the whiskey insurrection in Pennsylvania ; 
 and another farce, The Female Patriot. While 
 at Baltimore in 1795, she wrote a poetical ad- 
 dress to the armies of the United States, which 
 she entitled The Standard of Liberty, and which 
 was recited on the stage by Mrs. Whitloek before 
 the military companies of the city. The bird of 
 Jove, after attending the fortunes of ./Eneas and 
 the Latins, is made to descend on the shores of 
 Columbia, where the eagle becomes the standard 
 of virtue and freedom. The next year she ap- 
 peared with her husband at the Federal Street 
 Theatre, in Boston, for a single season, during 
 which she wrote a comedy, Americans in Eng- 
 land, which was asted for her benefit and fare- 
 well of the stage. She then opened a school at 
 Modford, afterwards at Newton, and subsequently 
 at Boston. Her industrious pen meanwhile was 
 not idle. In 1798 she published, in Boston, Reu- 
 ben and Rachel, or Tales of Old Tin.es, the scene 
 of which was laid in Maine. In 1804 her Mis- 
 cellaneous Poems appeared, by subscription, as 
 usual. She appears on the title-page "Precep- 
 tress of the Ladies' Academy, Newton, Mass." 
 The chief contents of the volume are The Birth 
 of Genius, an Irregular Poem.; Birth-day Ode 
 to John Adams, 1799 ; Eulogy to the Memory of 
 Washington ; Maria, not a Fiction, a ballad of 
 the Charlotte Temple material ; occasional ver es, 
 and some translations from Virgil and Horace. 
 They are for the most part echoes of English 
 verse, occasionally imperfect, but mainly expres- 
 sive of the generous woman's heart. A lew bois- 
 terous songs, of a mannish order, may be set 
 down to her theatrical life, ai.d may he c. nsidcred 
 as a healthy support of her sentimental writing. 
 The Choice, though one'of the numerous imita- 
 tions of Pomfret, may be taken as suggestive of 
 the character of the writer. Her poem on the 
 Rights of Woman shows her to have had but 
 moderate ideas on that subject compared with 
 some urged at the present day. A single verse, 
 the first of a little poem entitled Ajjection, is 
 proof sufficient of her gentle nature, and the feli- 
 citous expression which she sometimes achieved. 
 
 Mrs. Rowson also compiled several educational 
 works, a Dictionary, two Systems of Geography, 
 and Historical Exercises. She was al>o a contri- 
 butor to the Boston Weekly Magazine. Her last 
 distinct publication appears to have been in 1822, 
 the two volumes entitled, Biblical Dialogues 
 between a Father and his Family : con.prising 
 Sacred History from the Ci eat ion to the Heath 
 of our Saviour Christ, the Lhes of the Apos- 
 tles, the Reformation, &c. Mr. and Mrs. Al- 
 worth, in this book, living on the Connecticut, 
 communicate in a series of conversations with 
 their five children a variety of sacred information, 
 derived from the works of Stackhouse, Poole, 
 Prideaux, Calvert, and others. In the preface 
 Mrs. Rowson professes herself attached to the 
 tenets of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and 
 states that she " has been engaged for the last 
 twenty-five years in the instruction of young per- 
 sons of her own sex." The style of the work is 
 smooth and fluent. 
 
 Mrs. Rowson died in Boston, March 2, 182L* 
 
 * Ad Obituary article in the Boston Gazette, repiinted in 
 the Appendix to Aluoies Historical Collections lor 1S24 
 
SUSANNA ROWSON. 
 
 503 
 
 AFFECTION. 
 
 Touch'd by the magie hand of those we love, 
 
 A trifle will of consequence appeal' ; 
 A fiow'r, a blade of grass, a pin, a glove, 
 
 A scrap of paper will become most dear. 
 
 And is that being happy, whose cold heart 
 Feels not, nor comprehends this source of joy? 
 
 To whom a trifle can 110 bliss impart, 
 
 Who throw them careless by, deface, destroy i 
 
 Yes, they are happy; if the insensate rocks 
 Which the rude ocean beats, or softly laves, 
 
 Rejoice that they are mov'd not by the shocks, 
 Which hurl full many to untimely graves. 
 
 Yes, they are happy ; if the polish'd gem, 
 On which the sun in varied colours plays, 
 
 Rejoices that its lustre comes from him, 
 And glows delighted to reflect his rays. 
 
 Not else. — Though hearts so exquisitely form'd, 
 Feel misery a thousand differe.it ways ; 
 
 Yet when by love or friendship's power warm'd, 
 One look, whole days of misery repays. 
 
 One look, one word, one kind endearing smile, 
 Can from the mind each painful image blot: 
 
 The voice we love to hear can pain beguile, 
 List'uing the world beside is all foi'got. 
 
 Tho' sharp the pang which friendship slighted gives, 
 Tho' to the eye a tear may force its way ; 
 
 The cause remov'd when hope again revives, 
 
 Light beats the heart, and cheerful smiles the day. 
 
 True, when we're fore'd to part from those we love, 
 "lis like the pang when soul and body's riven ; 
 
 But when we meet, the spirit soars above, 
 And tastes the exquisite delights of heaven. 
 
 Mine be the feeling he:irt: for who would fear 
 To pass the dreary vale of death's abode, 
 
 If certain, at the end, they should be near 
 And feel the smile of a benignant God ? 
 
 stay ; 
 Say, where are the wings, with which poets adorn 
 thee? 
 Sure 'twas some happy being, who ne'er was away 
 From the friend he most lov'd, and who wish'd to 
 have shorn thee, 
 First drew thee with pinions ; for had he e'er known 
 
 A long separation, so slow dost thou move, 
 He'd have pictured thee lame, and with fetters bound 
 down ; 
 So tedious is absence to friendship and love. 
 
 I am sure thou'rt a cheat, for I often have woo'd 
 thee 
 To tarry, when blest with the friend of my heart: 
 But you vanish'd with speed, tho' I eager pursued 
 thee, 
 Entreating thee not in such haste to depart. 
 Then, wretch, thou wert deaf, nor wouldst hear my 
 petition. 
 But borrow'd the wings of a sparrow or dove ; 
 And now, when I wish thee to take thy dismission 
 Till those hours shall return, thou refusest to 
 move. 
 
 The primrose gay, the snowdrop pale, 
 The lily blooming in the vale, 
 Too fragile, or too fair to last, 
 Wither beneath th' untimely blast, 
 
 Or rudely falling shower ; 
 
 No more a sweet perfume they shed, 
 Their fragrance lost, their beauty fled, 
 
 They can revive no more. 
 So hapless woman's wounded name, 
 If Malice seize the trump of fame ; 
 Or Envy should her poison shed 
 Upon the unprotected head 
 
 Of some forsaken maid ; 
 Tho' pity may her fate deplore, 
 Her virtues sink to rise no more, 
 
 From dark oblivion's shade. 
 
 THE CHOICE. 
 
 I ask no more than just to be 
 
 From vice and folly wholly free ; 
 
 To have a competent estate, 
 
 Neither too small, nor yet too great; 
 
 Something of rent and taxes clear, 
 
 About five hundred pounds a year. 
 
 My house, though small, should be complete, 
 
 Furnished, not elega.it, but neat; 
 
 One little room should sacred be 
 
 To study, solitude, and me. 
 
 The windows, jessamine should shade, 
 
 Nor should a sound the ears invade, 
 
 Except the warblings from a grove, 
 
 Or plaintive murm'ri; gs of the dove. 
 
 Here would I often pass the day, 
 
 Turn o'er the page, or tune the lay, 
 
 And court the aid and sacred (ire 
 
 Of the Parnassian tuneful choir. 
 
 While calmly thus my time I'd spend, 
 
 Grant me, kind Heaven, a faithful friend. 
 
 In each emotion of my heart, 
 
 Of grief orjoy, to bear a part ; 
 
 Possess'd of learning, and good sense, 
 
 Free from pedantic insolence. 
 
 Pleas'd with retirement let him be, 
 
 Yet cheerful, midst society ; 
 
 Know how to trifle with a grace, 
 
 Yet grave in proper time and place. 
 
 Let frugal plenty deck my board, 
 So that its surplus may afford 
 Assistance to the neighb'ring poor, 
 And send them thankful from the door. 
 A few associates I'd select, 
 Worthy esteem and high respect ; 
 And social mirth I would invite, 
 With sportive dance on tiptoe light; 
 Nor should sweet music's voice be mute, 
 The vocal strain, or plaintive lute; 
 But all, and each, in turn agree, 
 T' afford life sweet variety ; 
 To keep serene the cheerful breast, 
 And give to solitude a zest. 
 
 And often be it our employ, 
 
 For there is not a purer joy, 
 
 To wipe the la guid grief-swoln eye, 
 
 To sooth the pensive mourner's sigh, 
 
 To calm their fears, allay their grief, 
 
 And give, if possible, relief. 
 
 But if this fate, directing Heaven 
 Thinks too indulgent to be given, 
 Let health and innocence be mine, 
 And I will strive not to repine; 
 Will thankful take each blessing lent, 
 Be humble, patient, and content. 
 
 THE INDEPENDENT FAH1SIER. 
 
 When the bonny grey morning just peeps from the 
 skies, 
 And the lark mounting, tunes her sweet lay ; 
 
504 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 With a mind unincumbered by care I arise, 
 My spirits, light, airy, and gay. 
 
 I take up my gun ; honest Tray, my good friend, 
 Wags his tail and jumps sportively round ; 
 
 To the woods then together our footsteps we bend, 
 Tis there health and pleasure are found. 
 
 I snuff the fresh air ; bid defiance to care, 
 
 As happy as mortal can be ; 
 From the toils of the great, ambition and state, 
 
 Tis my pride and my boast to be free. 
 
 At noon, I delighted range o'er the rich soil, 
 
 And nature's rough children regale: 
 With a cup of good h.ome-brew'd I sweeten their 
 toil," 
 
 And laugh at the joke or the tale. 
 
 And whether the ripe waving corn I behold, 
 Or the innocent flock meet my sight ; 
 
 Or the orchard, whose fruit is just turning to gold, 
 Still, still health and pleasure unite. 
 
 I snuff the fresh air ; bid defiance to care, 
 
 As happy as mortal can be ; 
 From the toils of the great, ambition and state, 
 
 'Tis my pride and my boast to be free. 
 
 At night to my lowly roof d cot I return, 
 When oh, what new sources of bliss ; 
 
 My children rush out, while their little hearts burn, 
 Each striving to gain the first kiss. 
 
 My Dolly appeal's with a smile on her face, 
 
 Good humour presides at our board ; 
 What more than health, plenty, good humour, and 
 peace, 
 
 Can the wealth of the Indies afford ? 
 
 I sink into rest, with content in my breast, 
 
 As happy as mortal can be ; 
 From the toils of the great, ambition and state, 
 
 Tis my pride and my boast to be free. 
 
 AMERICA, C0M3TEECE, AND FBEEDOM. 
 
 How blest a life a sailor leads, 
 
 From clime to clime still ranging ; 
 For as the calm the storm succeeds, 
 
 The scene delights by changing. 
 When tempests howl along the main, 
 
 Some object will remind us, 
 And cheer with hopes to meet again 
 Those friends we've left behind us. 
 Then under snug sail, we laugh at the gale, 
 
 And tho' landsmen look pale, never heed 'em; 
 But toss off a glass, to a favourite lass, 
 To America, Commerce, and Freedom. 
 
 And when arrived in sight of land, 
 
 Or safe in port rejoicing, 
 Our ship we moor, our sails we hand 
 
 Whilst out the boat is hoisting. 
 With eager haste the shore we reach, 
 
 Our friends, delighted, greet us ; 
 And, tripping lightly o'er the beaeh, 
 The pretty lasses meet us. 
 When the full flowing bowl has enliven'd the soul, 
 
 To foot it we merrily lead 'em, 
 And each bonny lass will drink off a glass, 
 To America, Commerce, and Freedom, 
 
 Our cargo sold, the chink we share, 
 
 And gladly we receive it; 
 And if we meet a brother Tar, 
 
 Who wants, we freely give it. 
 No free born sailor 3'et had store, 
 
 But cheerfully would lend it ; 
 
 And when 'tis gone, to sea for more, 
 We earn it, but to spend it. 
 Then drink round, my boys, 'tis the first of our joys, 
 
 To relieve the distress'd, clothe and feed 'em > 
 "Tis a task which we share, with the brave and the 
 fair, 
 In this land of Commerce and Freedom. 
 
 TABITHA TENNEY. 
 Mrs. Tabitha Tenxey, the author of the popular 
 Adventures of Doreadna Sheldon, was born at 
 Exeter, if. H., in 1762. She was the daughter 
 of Samuel Gihnan, whose paternal ancestors con- 
 stituted a great part of the community of that 
 place. Her father died in her infancy, and she 
 was left to the sole care of her pious and sensible 
 mother, who was a descendant of the Puritan 
 stock of Robinson, which also composed a large 
 portion of the early population of the town of 
 Exeter. As female education at that time was 
 very circumscribed, she had but few early ad- 
 vantages excepting those which she received from 
 her mother's excellent example of industry and 
 economy, and the few well chosen books which 
 she selected for her daughter's improvement. 
 
 Books and literary companionship were her 
 greatest delight. She acqulfcgd a facility and cor- 
 rectness of language which gave her noticeable 
 freedom and elegance in conversation. 
 
 In 1788 she was married to the Hon. Samuel 
 Tenney, then a resident in Exeter, and formerly 
 a Surgeon in the American army during the Re- 
 volutionary war. He was elected a member of 
 Congress in 1800. She accompanied her hus- 
 band to Washington several winters, and her let- 
 ters from that place are specimens of her talent 
 at graphic description, as well as illustrative of 
 the fashion and manners of the times. 
 
 Her first publication was a selection from the 
 poets and other cla-sical writers, for the use of 
 young ladies, entitled the New Pleasing Instruc- 
 tor. Some time after this she produced her ro- . 
 mance of Female Quixotism* This is, as its title 
 implies, one of the numerous literary progeny of 
 Cervantes' immortal satire. It resembles in one 
 respect more closely its original than most of its 
 family, turning like Don Quixote on the evils of 
 reading romances. In place, however, of the lean- 
 vizored Don, we have a blooming, delicate young 
 lady ; and to continue the contrast, in exchange 
 for the ponderous folios, in which even the light 
 literature of those ages of learning was entr imbed, 
 have the small volume novels of the Rosa-Matilda 
 school of the past century, the vapid sentimental 
 stuff which is now driven even from the book- 
 stalls. Dorcas Sheldon is the only daughter of a 
 wealthy father, and soon after her birth loses her 
 mother. Left by a fond father to follow her own 
 wishes she takes to reading novels, and so satu- 
 rates her mind with their wishy-washy contents, 
 that she determines herself to be a heroine. Her 
 
 * Female Quixotism : Exhibited in the Romantic Opinions 
 and Extravagant Adventures of Dorcasina Sheldon. 
 Felix quern faciunt aliena pericula cautum. 
 In plain English — 
 
 Learn to he wise by others' harm, 
 And you shall do full well. 
 In 2 vols. Boston : J. P. Peaslee. 1S29. The early editions of 
 popular novels become exceedingly scarce. We have met 
 with no earlier copy than tnia. 
 
TABITHA TENNEY. 
 
 505 
 
 first step is to become qualified for a romantic 
 career by metamorphosing her plain baptismal 
 Dorcas into Dorcasina; her next to refuse a 
 suitor, a solid man of property, of suitable age 
 and approved by her father, whose wooing is of 
 too straightforward and business-like a character 
 to suit her Lydia Languish requirements ; and her 
 next, to repair daily to a romantically-disposed 
 arbor to read and meditate. She has a confi- 
 dante, not the white-muslined nonentity who 
 would be naturally looked for beside a Tilburina, 
 but a sturdy, sensible, country-bred waiting-maid, 
 Betty, a female Sancho Panza. 
 
 Time wears on with Miss Dorcasina. .Her re- 
 tired residence and equally secluded mode of life 
 are unfavorable to her aspirations for adventures, 
 and she reaches her thirty-fourth year without a 
 second offer. 
 
 At this period an adventurer, passing a night 
 at the village inn, hears of the heiress and deter- 
 mines to carry her off. He dresses the next 
 afternoon in his best, and repairs to the bower 
 frequented by Dorcasina. An interview is thus 
 obtained, the lady swallows the bait, the scamp 
 forges letters of introduction, and is on the point 
 of accomplishing his purpose when he is obliged 
 to decamp. Dorcasina will believe nothing to 
 his discredit, and is for some time inconsolable. 
 
 Her next suitor is a waggish student, a young- 
 ster as full of practical jokes as his prototype of 
 Boccaccio or Chaucer, or contemporary of Yale 
 College. He somewhat ungallantly selects Dor- 
 casina as his victim. He thickens his plot by 
 appearing, after having made a powerful first 
 impression in proprii perso?i&, as an injured 
 female, making a violent assault on Dorcasina and 
 Betty :— 
 
 The next day, as evening approached, Dorcasina 
 desired Betty to attend her to the grove. Betty, 
 being 011 many accounts unwilling to go, on her 
 knees entreated her mistress to give up the project. 
 But, finding her resolutely bent on fulfilling her en- 
 gagement, the faithful creature, in spite of her aver- 
 sion to the adventure, and of her apprehensions of 
 gliosis and goblins, could not bear the idea that her 
 mistress should go to the wood, at that hour unac- 
 companied. She therefore followed her footsteps, 
 in silent trepidation. 
 
 Being arrived at the arbor they seated themselves 
 on the turf. They had not sat long, when, instead 
 of the expected lover, a female entered, and placing 
 herself by the side of Dorcasina, accosted her in 
 the following manner: " You will, perhaps, be sur- 
 prised, when I inform you that I know you did not 
 come here with the expectation of meeting a woman. 
 Philander was the person whom you expected to 
 see ; but know, abhorred rival, that I have effectu- 
 ally prevented his meeting you this night, and am 
 now come to enjoy your disappointment. I would 
 have you to know, you witch ! you sorceress! that 
 you have robbed me of the heart of my lover ; and 
 I am determined to be revenged." 
 
 Dorcasina, as might naturally be expected, was 
 astonished at this address, and remained for some 
 moments in a profound silence. At length, she at- 
 tempted to justify herself, by saying that she was 
 Eorry to be the cause of pain to any one ; that, from 
 her own experience, she knew too well the power 
 of love, not to commiserate any person who nourish- 
 ed a hopeless passion ; that she had never yet seen 
 Philander, to her knowledge; that this interview 
 was none of her seeking; and that she had consent- 
 
 ed to it, at his earnest e^frentv, on the express con- 
 dition that it should never be repealed. bhe eon- 
 eluded by declaring that, as she now found he had 
 been false to another, she would immediately retire, 
 and hold no further intercourse with him. 
 
 This mildness served, in appearance, but to irri- 
 tate the supposed female. " I know your arts too 
 well," cried she, raising her voice, " to believe a 
 syllable of what you say. It is all mere pretence, 
 and you will consent to meet him again the very first 
 opportunity. But you shall not go on thus practis- 
 ing your devilish arts with impunity. Your basilisk 
 glance shall not thus rob every man of his heart, 
 and every woman of her lover or husband. Those 
 bewitching eyes, that cause mischief wherever they 
 are seen, I will tear them from their orbits." Tims 
 saying, she laid violent hands on the terrified Dor- 
 casina ; tore off her hat; pulled her hair ; and was 
 proceeding to tear off her handkerchief, when Betty, 
 seeing her mistress so roughly handled, started up 
 in her defence, and attacking the stranger with great 
 fury, compelled her to quit Dorcasina in order to 
 defend herself. Dorcasina, thus liberated, darted 
 out of the grove and fled towards the house with all 
 speed, leaving Betty to sustain the combat alone. 
 Finding herself deserted, and her antagonist much 
 her superior in strength, Betty endeavored likewise 
 to make her escape; but her attempt was unsuc- 
 cessful. She was held, cuffed, pulled by the hair, 
 twirled round and round like a top, shaken and 
 pushed up against the trees, without mercy ; the 
 person who thus roughly handled her, exclaiming, 
 all the time, " You ugly old witch, I'll teach you to 
 carry letters, and contrive meetings between your 
 mistress and my lover; you pander, you go-be- 
 tween !" Poor Betty begged for mercy in the most 
 moving terms, protesting that she had said every- 
 thing to dissuade her mistress from this meeting ; 
 but the enraged virago would not suffer her to go 
 till she had stripped off her upper garments (her 
 gown being a short one and of no great value), torn 
 them to rags, and scattered them about the arbor. 
 She then Buffered her to depart, telling her, at the 
 same time, that if ever she caught her engaged in 
 the same business again, she would not only divest 
 her of her clothes, but strip off her old wrinkled 
 hide. 
 
 In further prosecution of bis deviltry, he per- 
 suades a conceited barber that Dorcasina has 
 fallen in love with him at church. The gull 
 readily agrees to repair to the usual trysting- 
 place, where we introduce him to the reader : — ■ 
 
 Monday being come, the barber, arrayed in his 
 Sunday clothes, with his hair as white as powder 
 could make it, set out, at four o'clock, for the arbor, 
 which had been pointed out to him by Philander ; 
 who, previous to this time, judging that Puff would 
 arrive at an early hour, had taken possession of a 
 thick tree, to enjoy, unobserved, the coming scene. 
 The barber found the hour of waiting very tedious. 
 He sung, he whistled, and listened attentively to 
 every passing noise ; when, at length, his ears were 
 saluted by the sound of female voices, which were 
 no other than those of Dorcasina and her attendant. 
 " Betty," said the former, " you may seat yourself 
 with your knitting work, without the arbor, and at 
 a small distance from it; for it would not be treat- 
 ing the young man with delicacy, to admit a third 
 person to witness his passion." Betty did as she 
 was desired ; and the little barber no sooner dis- 
 covered Dorcasina approaching the arbor, than, 
 stepping forward and taking her hand, he addressed 
 her with the utmost familiarity : " Gad, my dear, 
 I began to be very impatient, and was afraid you 
 
506 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 had changed your mind ; but I am very glad to see 
 you at last ! Pray, my dear, be seated." 
 
 This familiar address, so dirierent from what 
 Dorcasina had been led to expect, and from what 
 she had been accustomed to from O'Connor, so to- 
 tally disconcerted her, that she was unable to an- 
 swer a single word. She, however, did mechanically 
 as she was desired, and seated herself upon the turf 
 in silence. The barber placed himself by her, and 
 still holding the hand which she had not attempted 
 to withdraw, pitied her for what he thought her 
 country timidity, and kindly endeavored to encou- 
 rage her. " I suppose, my dear, you feel a little 
 bashful or so ! but don't be afraid to confess your 
 love. Be assured you will meet with a suitable re- 
 turn; and that I shall be ever grateful and kind for 
 bei, g thus distinguished." Dorcasina, still more 
 confounded by this strange speech, and wholly un- 
 able to comprehend its meaning, continued silent. 
 The barber, after waiting some moments in vain for 
 a reply, again began: " Why, gad, my dear! if you 
 don't intend to speak, you might as well have staid 
 at home. Pray, now, afford me a little of your sweet 
 conversation, if it is but just to say how much you 
 love me." 
 
 Here Dorcasina conld contain herself no longer. 
 " I had thought, sir," said she, hesitating, " I had 
 expected from your professions, a quite different re- 
 ception from this." " Did you, indeed? Gad, my 
 dear, you are in the right." Upon this he threw his 
 arms round her neck, and almost stifled her with 
 kisses. The astonished Dorcasina endeavored to dis- 
 engage herself, but in vain; for the enraptured bar- 
 ber continued his caresses, only at intervals exclaim- 
 ing, " Gad, my dear, how happy we shall be when 
 we are married. I shall love you infinitely, I am 
 sure." Dorcasina, at length., findii g breath, in a 
 loud and angry tone, exclaimed, " let me go this 
 moment; unhand me, sir. I will not endure to be 
 thus treated." 
 
 Betty, who had hitherto sat quietly knitting upon 
 a stump, hearii g the angry voice of her mistress, 
 darted towards the arbor, and instantly recognized 
 little Puff, who had been once or twice at the house 
 (though unseen by Dorcasina) to dress Mr. Sheldon, 
 and whom she had observed to be a pretty, spruce 
 young fellow. Her indignation bei. g raised at the 
 treatment of her mistress, she sprung upon him be- 
 fore he was aware of it, and gave him, with her 
 large heavy hand, a rousing box on the ear; ex- 
 claiming, at the same time, iu a tone of great con- 
 tempt, "The little barber! as I hope to live, 
 ma'am." 
 
 This unexpected blow had the desired effect. Puff, 
 surprised in his turn, instantly released the mistiess, 
 and turning about to the maid, desired to know 
 what the d — 1 she meant. Betty did not deign to 
 answer him, but "stood collected in her might." 
 Recollecting with indignation the treatment she had 
 so lately received in this very spot, of which she 
 now supposed him to be the instigator, and incensed 
 at his unpardonable insolence to her mistress, she 
 now rejoiced in an opportunity of takii g an ample 
 revenge, in kind, for all the affronts they had both 
 received. Rudely grasping him, therefore, under 
 one arm (for though naturally mild, she was a vira- 
 go when exasperated), " You pitiful little scoundrel," 
 she ciied, " what is it you mean by thus insulting 
 Miss Sheldon ? You pretend for to inspire to love 
 her, aDd decoy her here, on purpose to be impudent 
 to her; besides setting some impudent vailet in wo- 
 men's clothes to insult me, t'other night." Thus say- 
 ing, she boxed his ears with great fury, till the ter- 
 rified barber bawled to her to desist ; which she did 
 not do till she was heartily tired. 
 
 Meanwhile, the wicked scholar, perched on the 
 tree (determined if matters should come to extremi- 
 ty to descend and take the part of Puff ), enjoyed 
 the scene with the highest relish ; being obliged to 
 stuff the corner of his gown into Ids mouth, to pre- 
 vent laughing aloud and spoiling the sport. 
 
 Other equally extravagant adventures follow, 
 but all stop far short of matrimony. Meanwhile 
 Dorcasina, by the death of her father, comes into 
 po-session of her thousand pounds per annum. 
 Having exhausted her stock of sentimental fic- 
 tion, she, in default of anything else, reads Rode- 
 rick Random. Finding that hero to have, while 
 a serving man, fallen in love with his mistress, 
 she forthwith resolves that her hired man, John 
 Brown, is in a like predicament, and being, of 
 course, like Roderick, a gentleman born, is worthy 
 of a like reward. John displays no love for the 
 mistress, but is sensible of the agreeal leness of 
 the transition from master to man, and the banns 
 are published. Dorcasina is saved by main force, 
 a romantic abduction and imprisonment being 
 planned and executed by her friends, one of whom, 
 a lively young lady, vainly endeavors to supplant 
 John by courting the susceptible lady in the dis- 
 guise of a dashing young officer. John Brown is 
 meanwhile bought off and sent off. 
 
 Dorcasina at last finds that men were deceivers 
 ever, that married people, even married lovers, 
 have cares and troubles from which celibacy is 
 exempt, and settles down at last to an old age of 
 common sense. 
 
 Mrs. Tenney affords a good example of the 
 literary character, her discipline of mind being 
 associated with prudence in her affairs. She was 
 ■uniform and methodical in her 'habits, and so fru- 
 gal of her time as to execute much plain and 
 ornamental work with her needle. Among her 
 practical good services to the place of her resi- 
 dence, was the establishment of an old colored 
 servant of her family in a house which hi cime a 
 popular place of entertainment as a rural retreat, 
 with its " cakes and ale," and was known as 
 "Dinah's Cottage."* 
 
 Mrs. Tenney died at Exeter, after a short ill- 
 ness, in 1887. 
 
 JOSEPH BAETLETT 
 Was born at Plymouth, Mass., about the year 1763, 
 of afamily of good Puritan standing. He became 
 a graduate of Harvard in 1782, and with the repu- 
 tation of a wit went to Salem to study law, which 
 he soon abandoned for a voyage to England. 
 There is a popular anecdote of his appearance in 
 tlie metropolis, which is thus related by Kuapp, 
 who, in his American Biography, has presented an 
 elaborate sketch of the man. " One night when 
 Bartlett was in the theatre in London, a play was 
 going on, in which his countrymen were ridiculed 
 (I believe it is one of Gen. Burgoyne's plays) ; a 
 number of rebels had been taken, and brought 
 into the British camp ; on the inquiry being made 
 about their occupations, I believe the play says 
 professions, before they became soldiers, the an- 
 swer was, although many of them were ofiicers, 
 that they were of different callings ; some were 
 
 * We are indebted for these interesting personal notices to a 
 lady, a relative of Mrs, Tenney. 
 
J0SEP1I BAETLETT. 
 
 507 
 
 barbers, some tailors, some tinkers, <&e. At this 
 moment Bartlett rose from his seat in the pit, and 
 cried, "Hurra! Great Britain beaten by barbers, 
 tailors, and tinkers!" The effect was wonderful. 
 John Bull took it all in good part, and many of 
 the bloods of the day introduced themselves to 
 him ; and he made the best of the occasion. 
 
 Bartlett pursued the career of an adventurer in 
 London ; gambled, gained, spent, and got into 
 prison, from which he extricated himself by writ- 
 ing a play which gave him funds for his release. 
 He then went on the stage himself, and at Edin- 
 burgh acted under the assumed name of Maitland. 
 One of his parts was Belcour in the West Indian. 
 From an actor he became a merchant, and secur- 
 ed a large credit of goods for America, with which 
 he was shipwrecked upon his return on Cape Cod. 
 Knapp tells us, that on the voyage he frequently 
 paraded his infidel opinions and his contempt of 
 death ; but that when the vessel struck, he dis- 
 played the most cowardly anxiety for his safety, 
 saying "that it was not that he feared to die, but 
 that he should dislike to be f.mnd dead on such a 
 dreary place as the back of Cape Cod." At Bos- 
 ton lie formed a mercantile connexion, which soon 
 failed, when he turned again to the law. The 
 movement for the suppression of Shay's rebel- 
 lion gave him a brief opportunity to figure in 
 the military line as captain of the Republican Vo- 
 lunteers ; but his active services were not required. 
 He was admitted to the bar, and opened an office 
 at Woburn near Boston, where he affected oddity 
 to attract attention, painting his house black, and 
 calling it " the coffin." He next removed to Cam- 
 bridge, where he bore a prominent part in the pub- 
 lie altercations of the town, and busied himself in 
 the affairs of the college. In 17U9, he delivered 
 a poem on Physiognomy before the Phi Beta Kap- 
 pa Society of Harvard, in which, under an appear- 
 ance of general satire, he is said to have taken 
 off traits of individuals of note at the time. The 
 poem is clever, and is not marked by any appa- 
 rent personal scandal. Here are a few passages 
 from it. 
 
 God shows the force of bis creative powers, 
 From reasoning man, to ev'ry tree and flower ; 
 The hand of nature paints, on every part 
 Of every face, the feelings of the heart ; 
 Birds. Fishes, Serpents, Insects, all proclaim 
 Their diff'reut uses, qualities, a. id name. 
 
 The Royal Lion, haughty beast of prey, 
 Who pi-owls by night, and shuns the light of day, 
 Undaunted treads the trackless desert o'er, 
 And rules supreme on Afrie's bitrni g shore; 
 His voice of thunder, and his savage eyes, 
 Joined with his strength, and majesty of size, 
 Declare his courage, confidence, and pride, 
 And mark hiui sovereign of the forest wide. 
 
 See the fierce Tiger's haggard, ghastly eyes, 
 That show the baseness which in ambush lies; 
 His savage nature, easily we trace 
 In ev'ry line, that's marked upon his face; 
 When o'er his prey, exulting in his wiles, 
 You see a devil, when he laughs or smiles. 
 
 The grateful Bog, who licks his master's hand, 
 Consults his looks, obedient to command; 
 Sees every thought, and every wish arise, 
 In every movement of his master's eyes. 
 
 Look through the world, and every clime explore, 
 
 From Africa sands, to Nova Zambia's shore ; 
 
 View every bird, in every leafy grove ; 
 
 Hear every note, in every so..g of love ; 
 
 Observe their plumes, their wings, their beaks, their 
 
 eyes, 
 From Humming-bird, to Ostrich's lofty size; 
 And say if nature does not truly teach 
 In every bird the qualities of each. 
 
 Next the author takes up fishes, and follows 
 with serpents : — 
 
 Who views the Serpent, crawling on the earth, 
 Observes the mischiefs it has given birth, 
 Fraud, craft, and cunning darting from his eyes, 
 Sees plagues unnumbered from his form arise; 
 His spots, meandering, warn us of deceit, 
 A id every folding, shows him made to cheat. 
 His eyes and shapeless head make us believe 
 The ancient story of old Mot..er Eye. 
 Had but Lavater's science tiiea beea known, 
 We had been happy, Paradise our own ; 
 Eve would have seen the craft, which lurk'd 
 
 within ; 
 Perceiv'd the Devil, in the Serpent's skin, 
 Observ'd each wile, in every look complete, 
 Nor eat herself, nor given man to eat. 
 Then this our earth Millennium had been, 
 Free from all death, from misery a.id sin, 
 Man then had liv'd unconscious of the tomb, 
 Enjoying nature in eternal bloom. 
 
 Forgive, my friends, if I presume to scan, 
 And show the Puys.ognomy of Man, 
 Explore each wiudi g of the inmost soul, 
 Expose his vices and unveil the whole. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 The author never speaks of individuals, but of 
 classes, wherein he alludes to their foioles, for 
 example: — 
 
 Behold the man who scents the drawing-room, 
 "With all the fragrance of a rich perfume, 
 In speaking lisps, in walking seems to dance, 
 And shines in all the frippery of France. 
 His forehead short, his eyebrows wild, and thin 
 Denotes the For, the want of sense within ; 
 
 81 * X- * * * 
 
 Poor senseless being, let the idiot pass; 
 In dress a Foe, in intellect an Ass. 
 
 Of the critics : — 
 
 Make way, my friends, and give the Critic place, 
 With me observe the features of his face ; 
 His front, his lips, his eyes, declare aloud, 
 That he's a man oppressive, harsh, and proud, 
 Point to a man unsociable, severe, 
 Who damns all genius with a haughty sneer; 
 Who walks the street with stiff, important air, 
 And judges merit by the rules of Blair; 
 A comma wanted, puts him in a rage; 
 A well-tnrn'd period, condemns the page. 
 Hani is the task of this unhappy Wigut, 
 To read, to hear, examine all we write. 
 To turn o'er volumes with convulsive haste, 
 And dash out pages, to reform our taste. 
 
 We leave the Critic, with his envious mind, 
 To show a face, the noblest of its kind ; 
 Majestic forehead, and an arched nose, 
 Boldness and vigor of the mind disclose. 
 A piercing eye, commanding, wild, severe, 
 Shows us a man incapable of fear; 
 
508 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 We know the man, 'tis Freedom' $ favorite son, 
 Columbia's boast, our saviour Washington. 
 
 By and by he takes up woman : — 
 
 From men we turn, to view the Female sex, 
 Made to delight, to fain, to please, to vex ; 
 Form'd by our God, to strew our path with flowers, 
 To sooth our cares, to glad our passing hours, 
 
 ****** 
 
 First on the list, observe that woman's form, 
 Who looks a very monster in a storm. 
 Her skinny lips, her pointed nose behold, 
 And s;iy if nature's marked her for a scold? 
 Observe her chin, her every feature trace, 
 And see the fury, trembling in her face ; 
 By nature made to mar the joys of life, 
 And damn that man who has her for a wife. 
 ****** 
 
 The mild blue eye, the round and dimpled chin, 
 Bespeaks a mind incapable of sin, 
 The laughing cheeks, the lips of coral dye, 
 Declare the Curios which in ambush lie ; 
 The nose and forehead, happily combine, 
 To show exertions of a power divine, 
 To show an angel in a woman's face, 
 On which is stamped both dignity and grace, 
 When fortune frowns, and adverse scenes arise, 
 Despair and horror stand before our eyes, 
 Our minds are wrapt in all the gloom of night, 
 The world appears a desert in our 6ight, 
 Our friends desert us like a summer's fly, 
 And leave us wretched, languishing to die ; 
 An angel female, soothes our souls to rest, 
 And calms tiie passions raging in the breast, 
 Dispels all care, and ev'ry pain beguiles, 
 Subdues all fear, and clothes the face with smiles : 
 Females like her, would make all nature bloom, 
 And smooth the passage to the dreary tomb. 
 
 To this poem are appended, in the edition of 
 1823, at Boston, dedicated to John Quincy 
 Adams, a number of Aphorisms on lien, Man- 
 ners, Principles, and Things, which his various 
 opportunities in the world had given him ample 
 opportunity to collect. Here are a few of them, 
 some of which, if we are to receive Knapp's view 
 of his life, might have been profitable in his own 
 career. 
 
 Whenever you find a man endeavoring to lessen 
 and destroy the reputation of another, be certain his 
 own character is desperate. 
 
 There never was a calumniator who was brave, 
 honest, or just. 
 
 I never found a slanderer, who dared to meet face 
 to face the person whom he abused and vilified 
 when absent. 
 
 LAW. 
 
 The man who, for any trifling injury, applies to a 
 lawyer for redress, will soon be obliged to apply to 
 the town for support. 
 
 BOASTING. 
 
 Whenever you hear a man boasting of his cou- 
 rage, be convinced lie will be a coward in time of 
 danger. 
 
 A man who boasts of his honesty, or a woman of 
 her chastity, are both to be suspected. 
 
 Women possess less charity towards the foibles of 
 their own sex than the men. 
 
 A woman, destitute of morals, will be more atro- 
 cious than a man : Devils were made from Angels. 
 
 Let woman be conscious of her beauty, and she 
 will usually be inattentive to her mind. 
 
 Women possess stronger passions than men, less 
 reason to govern them. 
 
 FEIENDSHIP. 
 
 Friendship is in every person's mouth — little under- 
 stood, and less practised. 
 
 A man frequently loses the affection of his friend, 
 when he loses his property. 
 
 Love is the attachment of bodies — friendship the 
 union of souls. 
 
 Confidence is the cement of friendship. 
 
 PARTY 6PIEIT. 
 
 A party spirit in a small village, is the poison and 
 curse of all social intercourse. 
 
 Every social feeling, every generous emotion, 
 every noble sentiment, is usually sacrificed on the 
 altar of Party Spirit. 
 
 In 1823, Bartlett delivered a voluntary Fourth 
 of July oration in Boston, after which he recited 
 a poem, entitled the New Vicar of Bray. 
 
 Leaving Cambridge, Bartlett practised law and 
 politics in Maine. He had before been in the 
 Massachusetts House of Representatives, and was 
 now elected to the Maine legislature. He was at 
 this time a candidate for Congress, and nearly 
 secured his election by his personal exertions as a 
 speaker, and his political newspaper writings. 
 He also practised law in Portsmouth, Mass., and 
 finally settled down in Boston, a burden to his 
 few friends in the last years of an improvident 
 life. He died Oct. 27, 1827, at the age of sixty- 
 six. Loring, in his Boston Orators, gives the fol- 
 lowing Epitaph, which Bartlett wrote on himself, 
 and which he recited on his death-bed : — 
 
 'Tis done! the fatal stroke is given, 
 
 And Bartlett's fled to hell or heaven ; 
 
 His friends approve it, and his foes applaud, — 
 
 Yet he will have the verdict of his God. 
 
 Another stanza, which he is said to have re- 
 cited while attending the funeral of John Hale, 
 an estimable citizen of Portsmouth, exhibits, per- 
 haps, feeling and compunction : — 
 
 God takes the good, 
 
 Too good by far to stay 
 And leaves the bad, 
 
 Too bad to take away.* 
 
 JAMES KENT. 
 
 James Kent was born in the town of Fredericks, 
 Putnam co., New York, July 31, 1763. His 
 father was a lawyer by profession, and occa- 
 sionally practised; but his main attention was 
 devoted to his farm, a pleasantly situated estate 
 on the banks of the Croton river. The beautiful 
 scenes of this locality made a deep impression on 
 the mind of the son; and years after, when the 
 stream, like the boy who dwelt beside it, had 
 become famous, it was his delight to stand at the 
 window of his library and watch its waters leap- 
 ing forth in the Union Park fountain before him. 
 James Kent entered the Freshman Class of 
 Yale College in 1777. His studies were inter- 
 
 * Loring's Hundred Boston Orators, p. 406. 
 
JAMES KENT. 
 
 500 
 
 rupted in his Sophomore year by the occupation 
 of the town by the British, in consequence of 
 which the college was temporarily closed. It 
 was during; this recess that he first met with 
 Bleed-stone's Commentaries, and so delighted was 
 he with that great work, that he at once resolved 
 to master its contents by close study. This inci- 
 dent determined his choice of a profession. 
 
 Obtaining his degree in 1781, he at once com- 
 menced the study of the law in the office of tho 
 distinguished Egbert Benson, at Poughkeepsie. 
 He was admitted attorney in January, 1785, and 
 commenced practice in his native village of Fre- 
 dericks, but finding there too limited a field for 
 his exertions, he returned to Poughkeepsie, where 
 he opened an office in partnership with Gilbert 
 Livingston. Here, in April, 1785, he married 
 Miss Elizabeth Bayley. 
 
 A conviction of the limited extent of his classi- 
 cal acquirements (the course at Yale College, in 
 his day, extending only to the study of the New 
 Testament in Greek, and of portions of Virgil, 
 Horace, and Cicero in Latin) led to a plan of 
 study which he immediately put into execution. 
 By rising very early he was enabled to devote 
 two hours to Greek and two to Latin before 
 breakfast. The business hours of the day were 
 occupied by his profession. Two hours after 
 dinner were given to the French language, and 
 the evening, when not engaged socially, to the 
 study of the English classics, in verse as well as 
 prose. Ho continued this division of the day 
 until lie became a Judge of the Supreme Court. 
 
 In 1790 and 1792 he was elected a member of 
 the State Assembly. He became a loader of the 
 federal minority in this body, and distinguished 
 himself by the ability with which, in 1793, ho 
 conducted the examination of witnesses relative 
 to the destruction of the votes cast in Otsego 
 county, in the election for Governor of the State, 
 an act which had raised the candidate of tho 
 minority to the office. His course was warmly 
 approved by John Jay, and remembered to his 
 advantage, when the latter became Governor of 
 the State. 
 
 In April, 1793, he was nominated for Congress 
 in Dutchess county, but his party being in the 
 minority, lost his election. He removed during 
 the same month to the city of New York. Here, 
 as at his previous residence, his professional 
 receipts were very small, and as neither himself 
 nor his wife possessed private resources, they 
 were much straitened in their circumstances. 
 In December, he was appointed Professor of 
 Law at Columbia College, and after diligent pre- 
 paration entered upon its duties in the follow- 
 ing November. His introductory lecture was 
 published by the trustees, and in 1795 he issued 
 a small volume containing three others prelimi- 
 nary to his course on the common law, devoted 
 to a review of the various forms of government 
 which have existed at various periods, a history 
 of the union of the United States from their first 
 conjoined action to the adoption of the Federal 
 Constitution, and an examination of the law of 
 nations as applied to the circumstances of peace, 
 war, and neutrality. He delivered in the same 
 year an address before the State Society for the 
 promotion of agriculture, art, and manufactures, 
 winch is printed in the first volume of their 
 
 Transactions, ne was also appointed by Governor 
 Jay one of the two Masters in Chancery of the 
 city, much to the improvement of his financial 
 resources. 
 
 In 1798, he resigned his professorship, tho 
 attendance of students and provision for support 
 being too slight to warrant farther effort in its 
 behalf. He was appointed the same year a Jus- 
 tice of the Supreme Court by Governor Jay, and 
 accepted the office, although the salary was much 
 less than what he at this time received, as he held 
 the office of recorder, by appointment, in 1797, 
 as well as Master in Chancery. He here, in his 
 second term, introduced the practice of rendering 
 written decisions, a course followed by his asso- 
 ciates, and which in a short time raised tho 
 Bench to a far higher dignity than it had pre- 
 viously attained. In 180-1, he became Chief-Jus- 
 tice, an office which he held until his appoint- 
 ment in 1814 as Chancellor. During his tenure 
 of this office he effected, saj's Judge Duer, "a 
 change in the system and administration of 
 equity law, so extensive and entire, that with a 
 single exception (that of Lord Nottingham) it has 
 no parallel in the history of the law." He re- 
 tained this office until 1823, when having attained 
 the age of sixty, he became incapacitated by the 
 law of the State for judicial duty. 
 
 The same year, on occasion of a vacancy in 
 the bench of the Supreme Court of the United 
 States, Kent was talked of by his friends for 
 the appointment, and the matter was warmly 
 seconded by Wirt, then Attorney-General, who 
 addressed a letter on the subject to President 
 Monroe, in which he met the difficulty of Kent's 
 political relations by urging the value of his 
 character to the nation. " Kent holds so lofty a 
 stand," he wrote, "everywhere, for almost match- 
 less intellect and learning, as well as for spotless 
 purity and high-minded honor and patriotism, 
 that I firmly believe tho nation at large would 
 approve and applaud the appointment." Of his 
 
510 
 
 'CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 personal character, "Wirt held this appreciation. 
 "His conversation and manners are indicative 
 only of a simplicity almost infantile, and of the 
 mot perfect kindness and suavity of disposition ; 
 and such, I have understood, has always been his 
 character. Judging by what I have seen of him, 
 and by all that I have ever heard, he is as benig- 
 nant and patriotic as he is admitted on all hands 
 to be great and enlightened." The appointment 
 was proposed, while Mr. Smith Thompson, to 
 whom the post had been offered, hesitated in its 
 acceptance. His entrance upon the office closed 
 the matter.* 
 
 With a view to the establishment of a law 
 school, Kent removed from Albany, where he re- 
 sided during his judicial career, to the city of New 
 York, and a second time accepted the professorship 
 of law in Cc ilumbia College. He delivered a course 
 of lectures in 182 A, which he repeated the next 
 year, when the increase of his practice as coun- 
 sel, his intention of preparing his lectures for 
 publication, and as before the inadequate pecu- 
 niary support of the professorship, rendered his 
 further discharge of its duties merely nominal. 
 
 In 1826 he published the first volume of his 
 Commentaries.t at the earnest solicitation of 
 his friends, he himself having little expectation 
 of a favorable reception by the public. He ori- 
 ginally contemplated but two volumes, but these 
 expanded as he proceeded into four, the last of 
 which appeared in 1830. They at once took the 
 high place they have since held in legal litera- 
 ture, and as the universally received text-books 
 of the science throughout the country, as by 
 the plan of stating first the common law on each 
 topic, and afterwards the changes introduced by 
 decisions or statute in each State, it is adapted to 
 the use of every portion of the Union. The 
 copyright of this work was held by the author 
 exclusively in his 'own hands, the copies printed 
 stoied in his own residence, and disposed of as 
 order xl by the booksellers. 
 
 Humor is hardly to be looked for in a volume 
 of Commentaries on the law, but Kent, after 
 having conducted the student through the in- 
 tricate theme in his text, coolly informs him in 
 a note that the rule in Shelley's case is entirely 
 superseded. 
 
 The juridical scholar, on whom his great master, 
 Coke, has bestowed some portion of the " gladsome 
 light of jurisprudence," will scarcely be able to 
 withhold an involuntary sigh, as he casts a retro- 
 spective glance over the piles of learning, devoted 
 to destruction by an edict as sweeping and unrelent- 
 ing as the torch of Omar. He must bid adieu for 
 ever to the renowned discussions in Shelley's case, 
 which were so vehement and so protracted as to 
 arouse the sceptre of the haughty Elizabeth. He 
 may equally take leave of the multiplied specimens 
 of [profound logic, skilful criticism, and refined dis- 
 tinctions, which pervade the varied cases in law and 
 equity, from those of Shelley and Archer, down to 
 the direct collision between the courts of law and 
 equity, in the time of Lord Hardwicke. He will 
 have no more concern with the powerful and ani- 
 mated discussions in Perrin v. Blake, which awak- 
 ened all that was noble and illustrious in talent and 
 endowment, through every precinct of Westminster 
 
 * Kennedy's Memoirs of Wirt. ii. 153. 155. 
 
 T Commentaries on American Law, by James Kent 
 
 hall. He will have occasion no longer, in pursuit 
 of the learning of that case, to tread the clear and 
 blight paths illuminated by Sir William Blaekstone's 
 illustrations, or to study and admire the spirited and 
 ingenious dissertation of Hargrave, the comprehen- 
 sive and profound disquisition of Fearne, the acute 
 and analytical essay of Preston, the neat and orderly 
 abridgment of Cruise, and the severe and piercing 
 criticisms of Reeve. What I have, therefore, writ- 
 tea on this subject, may be considered, so far as my 
 native state is concerned, as an humble monument 
 to tue memory of departed learning. 
 
 The reports of his opinions as Chief-Justice and 
 Chancellor bear testimony with his Commentaries 
 to his clearness of style and ability aj a writer. 
 As an evidence of their excellence, it may be 
 stated that one quoted in an argument by Web- 
 ster is cited in an article on that great orator in 
 the North American Review as from his pen. 
 
 In 1828, Kent delivered an Anniversary Dis- 
 course be/ore the New York Historical Society ; in 
 1831, an address before the Phi Beta Kappa at 
 Yale College; and in 1836 one before the Law 
 Association of New York, in which he has given 
 spirited reminiscences of the leading members of 
 the bar at the commencement of bis career. 
 
 In 18A0 he prepared, at the request of the Mer- 
 cantile Library Association, a Course of Rending 
 for the guidance of its members, composed exclu- 
 sively of merchants' clerks of this city. It con- 
 tains an unusual preponderance of hooks of travel, 
 a class of writings in which the compiler took 
 interest. His friends were amused by the ample 
 field of geographical study thus marked out for 
 youthful readers engaged in unscholnstic pursuits, 
 but the preference was one not ill adapted to the 
 purpose of aiding to interest, and at the same 
 time instruct, while its bearing on the mercantile 
 career is obvious. 
 
 The incentive these perpetually novel and ad- 
 ventt c.u narratives afforded to the exercise of 
 the iniiifcination, with the engrossing but not 
 exhausting employment to the mind of minute 
 geographical study, supplied an inexhaustible fund 
 of the purest gratification to a sympathetic and 
 intellectual old age. 
 
 Chancellor Kent continued the practice of his 
 profession as chamber counsel, until within a 
 short period of his death, which occurred on the 
 12th Dec, 1847. The temperate and constant 
 use of his faculties through life preserved their 
 energy to a remarkable extent in Ins old age. 
 His amiability and purity of character were as 
 remarkable as his judicial acquirements. 
 
 His son, William Kent, is engaged upon a bio- 
 graphy, which will hardly fail, by increasing our 
 knowledge, to inciease still more our respect for 
 its eminent subject. The materials for our own 
 article have been mainly derived from the excellent 
 discourse delivered at the request of the Judiciary 
 and bar of the city and state, by the Hon. John 
 Duer, in 1848. 
 
 TIIE NEW YORK CONVENTION FOE TnF .ADOPTION OF THE FEDE- 
 RAL CONSTITUTION — FROM AN ADDRESS BEFOEE THE LAW 
 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 I allude to the convention which assembled at 
 Poughkeepsie in the summer of 1788, to deliberate 
 and decide on the adoption of the federal constitu- 
 tion. The intense interest with which the meeting 
 of the convention was anticipated and regarded, can 
 
JAMES KENT. 
 
 511 
 
 hardly be conceived at this day, and much less ade- 
 quately described. I then resided in that village, 
 and was enabled and induced to attend the conven- 
 tion as a spectator, daily aud steadily during the 
 entire six weeks of its session, and I was of course an 
 eye and ear witness to everything of a public nature 
 that was said or done. The convention was com- 
 posed of sixty-five members, and not one of them 
 remains a survivor at this day. 'that bright and 
 golden age of the republic may now be numbered 
 " with the years beyond the flood," and I am left in 
 comparative solitude to recall and enjoy the enchant- 
 ing vision. 
 
 The convention combined the talents, experience, 
 and weight of character, of some of the most distin- 
 guished men in the state. Most of them had been 
 tutore 1 in the discussions, services, a:id perils of the 
 revolution. The principal speakers in favor of the 
 adoption of the constitution were, Mr. Jay (then 
 (Secretary for Foreign Affairs), Chancellor Living- 
 ston, Mr. Duane (the i mayor of this city), Mr. Hari- 
 son, and Colonel Hamilton. On the other side, and 
 against the adoption without previous amendments, 
 were George Clinton (then Governor of the state), 
 Mr. Lansing (afterwards Chancellor), Mr. Jones 
 (afterwards Recorder of this city), John Williams 
 of Washington county, and Gilbert Livingston and 
 Melancton Smith, delegates from Dutchess. There 
 was no difficulty in deciding at once on which si le 
 of the house the superiority in debate existed. Yet 
 in the ordinary range of the discussions, it was 
 found that the dignity, candor, and strength of Jay, 
 the polished address and elegant erudition of Chan- 
 cellor Livingston, and the sagacity and exhaustless 
 researches of Hamilton, were met with equal pre- 
 tensions by their opponents, supported bv the sim- 
 plicity and u lprete iding good sense of Clinton, the 
 sound judgment of Jones, the plausible deductions 
 of Lansing, and the metaphysical mind and embar- 
 rassing subtleties of Smith. But Colonel Hamilton 
 maintained the ascendancy on every question ; and 
 being the only member present who had signed the 
 constitution, he felt and sustained most intrepidly 
 the weight of the responsibility which belonged to 
 him as the leader on the federal side of the ques- 
 tion. All seemed, as by common consent, to con- 
 cede to him the burden and the honors of the de- 
 bate. Mr. Smith was also the most prominent and 
 responsible speaker on the part of the anti-federal 
 majority. There was no person on that side to be 
 compared to him in acute and logical discussion. 
 He was Hamilton's most persevering and formidable 
 antagonist. But even Smith was routed in every 
 contest, and as Mr. Hamilton had been a most active 
 member of the national convention, and the princi- 
 pal author of the Federalist, his mind had grown 
 familiar with the principles and history of federal 
 governments, and with every topic of debate. He 
 was prompt, ardent, energetic, and overflowing, 
 with an exhaustless store of argument and illustra- 
 tion. 
 
 The three principal topics of debate, in which 
 Mr. Hamilton was most distinguished and most mas- 
 terly, were (1), on the importance of the union, the 
 defects of the confederation, and the just principles 
 of representation. (2.) On the requisite tenure and 
 stability of the senate. (3.) Un the power of taxa- 
 tion and the residuary rights of the states. On 
 each of those subjects he bestowed several speeches, 
 some of which were employed in refutation and 
 reply. 
 
 He generally spoke with great earnestness and 
 energy, and with considerable, and Bometimes ve- 
 hement gesture. His language was clear, nervous, 
 aud classical He went to the foundation and rea- 
 
 son of every doctrine which he examined, and he 
 brought to the debate a mind richly adorned with 
 all the learning that was applicable. He never 
 omitted to meet fairly the discussion, and he was 
 sure to discover the strength and weakness, the in- 
 gredients of truth and error, in every proposition he 
 had to contend with. His candor was magnani- 
 mous, and rose to a level with his talents. His 
 temper was spirited, but courteous, amiable, and 
 generous ; and he frequently made pathetic and 
 powerful appeals to the good sense and patriotism 
 of the assembly, and painted vividly the difficulties 
 and dangers of the crisis, in order to prepare their 
 minds for a favorable reception of the constitution, 
 The style aud manner of Smith's speeches was plain, 
 dry, and syllogistic ; and it behooved his adversary 
 to understand well the ground on which he stood, 
 and the principles he advanced, or he might find it 
 somewhat embarrassing to extricate himself from a 
 Eubtle web of specious reasoning, unless indeed it 
 was met by Hamilton's skill and strength, which 
 nothing could resist. Smith was a speaker of re- 
 markable simplicity, and his disposition was gentle 
 and liberal. though I had strong political preju- 
 dices against Governor Clinton, as the leader of the 
 party opposed to the constitution, yet during. the 
 course of the session, I became forcibly struck with 
 the dignity with which he presided, and with his 
 unassumii g and modest pretensions as a speaker. 
 It was impossible not to have respect for such a 
 character, or for a young man not to be somewhat 
 overawed in his presence, when it became appaient 
 from all his conduct, that he possessed great deci- 
 sion of character, aud a stern inflexibility of pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The arguments urged by Col. Hamilton in the 
 debates, were substantially the same which he had 
 before employed in the Federalist. They could not 
 have been different, for he had already urged all the 
 leading considerations which led to the plan, and 
 had guided the judgment and skill of the artists. 
 
 In his openij g speech, Mr. Hamilton preliminarily 
 observed, that it was of the utmost importance that 
 the convention should be strongly impressed with a 
 conviction of the necessity of the union of the states. 
 If they could be entirely satisfied of that great truth, 
 their minds would then be prepared to admit the 
 necessity of a government of similar organization 
 and powers with the scheme of the one before them, 
 to uphold and preserve that union. It was like the 
 case of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, 
 aud doubts on that subject were one great cause, he 
 said, of modern infidelity, for if men could be 
 thoroughly convinced that they had within them 
 immaterial and immortal spirits, their minds would 
 be prepared for the ready reception of Christian 
 truth. After pointing out the radical defects of the 
 articles of confederation, and vindicating the popu- 
 lar basis of the proposed system, he declared his 
 most serious conviction, that the latter was a wise 
 and genuine specimen of a representative republic ; 
 and he hoped and trusted that we should find in it 
 an effectual cure for our actual distresses, and that it 
 would prove an eminent blessing to us and our pos- 
 terity. He concluded his first great speech with the 
 patriot's prayer: " Oh ! save my country, heaven \" 
 in allusion to the brave Cobham, who felt " his ruling 
 passion strong in death." 
 
 His two speeches on the organization, powers, 
 and stability of the senate, were regarded at the 
 time, by the best judges, as the noblest specimens 
 which the debates in that, or in any other assembly, 
 ever afforded of the talents and wisdom of the states- 
 man. They were delivered with a strong desire to 
 put down a most mischievous aud pernicious propo- 
 
512 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Bition to amend the constitution, and -which was, 
 that "no person should be eligible as a senator for 
 more than six years in any term of twelve years, 
 and that they should at all times -within the period 
 of six years be subject to recall by the state legislat- 
 ures, and to the substitution of others." Mr Hamil- 
 ton, on that occasion, took broad views of the nature 
 of man, — his passions, pursuits, interests, prejudices, 
 duties ; and he drew his deductions from the design 
 and necessity of government, the settled principles 
 of policy, and the history and melancholy infirmities 
 of all free, and especially of all federal governments, 
 ancient and modern. Instability, a fluctuating 
 policy, and corrupt and vindictive factions, were 
 prominent features and practical consequences 
 in the history of most republican sj'stems, and their 
 necessary tendency was to weaken the sanctity of 
 contracts, lessen the security of property, destroy a 
 proud and just sense of national honour, and finally to 
 forfeit the respect and confidence of the rest of man- 
 kind. He contended, therefore, that in all just 
 policy, we ought not to hesitate to infuse a principle 
 of stability into the structure of our national go- 
 vernment, by the creation of a senate, to be com- 
 paratively small in the number of its members, and 
 to have them chosen for considerable periods of 
 time, so as to inspire them with a feeling of inde- 
 pendence, and a lively sense of character, in the due 
 discharge of their trust. Upon no other plan, could 
 the Senate, either in its legislative or executive 
 character, be able to perform its functions as the 
 balance-wheel of the machine. In no other way 
 would that body be able to become the requisite 
 check to the mischiefs of misguided zeal and fac- 
 tious policy in the more popular branch, or to the 
 abuses and misrule of the president, in the exercise 
 of the treaty and the appointing powers. 
 
 During the sitting of the convention, information 
 was received that rN'ew Hampshire had adopted the 
 constitution, and she made the ninth state that had 
 ratified it. That great event wrought at once a 
 momentous change in the condition of the United 
 States ; inasmuch as the confederation became there- 
 by ipso facto dissolved, and the new constitution 
 had become, or would be when organized, the exist- 
 ing national government of the nine states which 
 hud ratified the same. But that fact, solemn and 
 weighty as it was, did not seem to disturb the tran- 
 quillity, or shake the purpose, of a majority of the 
 convention. Mr. Smith and Mr. Lansing both 
 declared that the event had no influence on their 
 deliberations. The convention continued its sharp 
 debates for three weeks longer, and apparently 
 regardless of that information, until all hopes of an 
 auspicious issue to the business seemed to be lost. 
 It was in the midst of that gloomy period, and just 
 before the clouds began to disperse, and serene skies 
 to appear and gladden the moral atmosphere of the 
 place, that Mr. Hamilton made one of his most 
 pathetic and impassioned addresses. He urged every 
 motive and consideration that ought to sway the 
 human mind in such a crisis, fie touched with 
 exquisite skill every cord of sympathy that could be 
 made to vibrate in the human breast. Our country, 
 our honor, our liberties, our firesides, our posterity, 
 were placed in vivid colors before us. He alluded 
 to the distresses and national degradation which 
 dictated the call for a general convention, and he 
 portrayed in matchless style the characters in that 
 illustrious assembly, composed of the wisest and 
 brightest of our American statesmen. To discrimi- 
 nate largely might be invidious ; but it could not 
 be so, he said, to select Franldin, revered by the 
 wise men of Europe, and Washington, crowned with 
 laurels, and refulgent with glory. 
 
 Intelligence was shortly afterwards received, that 
 Virginia had also adopted the constitution. Mr. 
 Hamilton read with much sensibility a letter to that 
 effect, communicated by express from Mr. Madison. 
 It produced at once a visible change in the disposi- 
 tion of the house, and led it to think of adopting the 
 constitution upon certain terms. A resolution to 
 that effect was before the house, when Mr. Smith 
 moved that the constitution be ratified upon condi- 
 tion, that certain powers contained in the instru- 
 ment should not be exercised until a general con- 
 vention of the states had been called to propose 
 amendments. This proposition was discussed for 
 several days, and under the impression in one part 
 of the house, that the adoption of the constitution 
 with that qualification annexed, would readily be 
 received by the existing Congress. Mr. Hamilton 
 was strenuous and peremptory in his opinion, that 
 such a conditional ratification would not and could 
 not possibly be accepted. He assured the house 
 that all expectations from such a source would 
 prove delusive. This opinion gained ground, and 
 the members generally and gradually assumed a 
 more conciliatory tone; and all vehemence in debate 
 seemed to cease as by common consent. Convic- 
 tions once beginning to operate, were borne along 
 with increasing force against the stream of preju- 
 dice. " We did not come here," said Mr. Jay, " to 
 carry points, or gain party triumphs. We ought 
 not to expect it, or wish it. We were without a 
 national government, and on the eve of an untried 
 era. Everything demanded moderation and con- 
 cession. The laurels of mere party victory, might 
 be bedewed with the tears, or stained with the 
 blood of our fellow-citizens." Mr. Hamilton dis- 
 claimed all intention of wounding the feelings of 
 any individual, though he had expressed himself in 
 the course of the debates in strong language, dic- 
 tated by strong emotions, for on no subject had his 
 mind been agitated with more painful concern. 
 The spirit of the house became liberal and cheer- 
 ing ; and at last Mr Jones moved to substitute the 
 ■words in fall confidence, in lieu of the words, vpon 
 condition, in the form of the ratification. He was 
 supported by Mr. Smith, who had so eminently dis- 
 tinguished himself, and by Mr. Piatt, then first judge 
 of the county of Dutchess, who made a few plain 
 observations in a direct and downright maimer, of 
 his sense of duty, and of his determination to follow 
 it, Twelve members came over from the anti- 
 federal side of the house, and they were sufficient 
 to constitute the majority which unconditionally 
 ratified the constitution. I have always considered 
 the members who made this memorable and 
 unbought sacrifice of error, prejudice, and party 
 discipline, on the altar of patriotism and their coun- 
 '• try's welfare, as entitled to the highest commenda- 
 j tion. It was quite an heroic effort, to quit such a 
 j leader as Governor Clinton, though it was to follow 
 their own convictions. It was understood that 
 ■ several other members were inclined to follow the 
 same course, but they could not be brought to 
 : desert the governor, who remained inflexible. Had 
 1 he consented to vote for the constitution, the rati- 
 . fication of it would probably have been unanimous. 
 i As it was, the spirit of conciliation which closed the 
 labors of that illustrious assembly, was deemed most 
 auspicious, and as affording a new and instructive 
 example of wisdom and moderation to mankind. 
 
 ABIEL HOLMES. 
 
 Abiel Holmes, the author of the American An- 
 nals, one of the pioneer works of American His- 
 tory, was born in Woodstock, Conn., a town 
 
ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD. 
 
 513 
 
 formerly under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts, 
 December 24, 1763. His father, Dr. David 
 Holmes, had served as captain with the provincial 
 forces in the old French war in Canada. Ahiel 
 graduated at Yalo in 1783, and soon after accepted 
 the appointment of Tutor in the college, having 
 first preached a short time to a society in Mid- 
 way, Georgia. In 1788. he was settled over the 
 congregation in Midway, where he had formerly 
 preached, and maintained a happy relation with 
 them until 1791, when the state of his health 
 compelled him to remove to the north. In 1790, 
 he married Mary, daughter of Dr. Ezra Stiles, the 
 president of Yale College. She died in 1795, 
 leaving no children. 
 
 In 1792, Mr. Holmes was installed as pastor of 
 the Fir-it Congregational Church in Cambridge, 
 Mass., and occupied this position until 1832, a 
 long period of forty years, when the increase of 
 new theological opinions caused a division of the 
 society. He retained his connexion with the 
 "orthodox" portion of the parish, a colleague 
 having been settled with him, to whom lie soon 
 resigned his share of the duties, and passed the 
 remainder of his life peacefully and happily in 
 Cambridge. His religious and ecclesiastical faith 
 was that of the Puritans. His position at Cam- 
 bridge was, therefore, peculiarly difficult and deli- 
 cate, surrounded as he was with communities 
 of different faith, and in the immediate vicinity 
 of an institution at that time almost exclusively 
 under Unitarian influence. But he was charitable 
 by nature, and disposed to live peaceably with 
 those whose faith differed from his own. For a 
 long course of years he was in the habit of ex- 
 changing pulpits with the Unitarian clergy of the 
 neighborhood, and never ceased to be on the most 
 friendly terms of intercourse with many among 
 them. 
 
 In the year 1800 lie married Sarah, daughter 
 of the Hon. Oliver Wendell, of Boston.* 
 
 In his literary career Dr. Holmes, in 1798, 
 wrote the life of his father-in-law, President 
 Stiles, a work of genuine worth and character. 
 In 1805 he' published his American Annals, a 
 work in two volumes octavo, containing the out- 
 lines of American History from 1492 to the pe- 
 riod of its publication, a work of careful collection 
 and research; and in 1829 he published a second 
 edition of the work, enlarged with a continuation 
 of the record. The American Annals employed 
 him some ten years in composition, and much 
 labor was expended on its revision. This was a 
 labor of love. To verify a doubtful legend ; to 
 disprove a questionable tradition by new testimo- 
 ny ; to get at the absolute fact and let this tell its 
 own story : such labor as this was his highest 
 literary pleasure. Like a famous observer in 
 science ho might have adopted the saying of 
 Rousseau as his motto, " I know that truth is in 
 things, and not in my mind that judges of them, 
 and that the loss of myself I mingle with them 
 the nearer I shall come to the truth." He ob- 
 served the remark, however, very differently from 
 the famous egotist who originated it. 
 
 * The children of this second marriage were, 1. Mary Jack- 
 son, married to Usher Pavsons, M.D.; '2. Ann Susan, married 
 to the Hon. Charles Wontworlb t'pham ; 8. Sarah Lathrop, 
 who died in childhood; 4. Oliver Wendell, the poet and phx-- 
 sician ; 0. John Holmes of Cambridge. 
 VOL. I. — 33 
 
 In 1817 Dr. Holmes delivered a course of 
 Lectures on Ecclesiastical History in Harvard 
 College. 
 
 Ho published in the Massachusetts Historical 
 Collections a Memoir of the French Protestants ; 
 and a History of the Town of Cambridge. 
 
 Besides the works thus enumerated he pub- 
 lished various sermons. Occasionally, like many 
 of his clerical contemporaries, he indulged in 
 verse, not, however, in any more serious efforts 
 than a slight translation or an occasional hymn. 
 
 His fondness for history and antiquarian re- 
 search was no doubt favored and fostered by his 
 early relations with his revered father-in-law, 
 President Stiles. But the author of " The His- 
 tory of the Judges " joined to his learning a love 
 of theory leading him at times towards credulity, 
 which his son-in-law did not inherit. The master 
 was fond of wide speculations ; the pupil was con- 
 tent with the humble task of collecting, sifting, 
 verifying, and classifying the facts of history. To 
 the same master is to be traced the love of the 
 Hebrew language, which he always retained. 
 He often referred to his first lessons received from 
 the lips of the President himself. He had Greek 
 and Latin enough for the reading of sacred and 
 classical books, and so much of French and Spa- 
 nish as was necessary for the consultation of 
 historical authority. He had too a scholar's taste 
 in books. Without being a book collector in the 
 strict sense, he had a fondness for good editions, 
 and there were few happier moments than when 
 he brought home an Elzevir, or a Stephanus, or 
 a Frobenius, and introduced the venerable new 
 comer to his somewhat crowded shelves. 
 
 In his personal character lie was of a kindly 
 and genial disposition, and the somewhat severe 
 forms of belief in which he was bred, and to 
 which he was faithful through life, never chilled 
 his social nature. 
 
 In the general love and confidence of his 
 parish and supported by the Christianity which 
 he had served, he died at Cambridge, June 4, 
 1837* 
 
 ST. JOHN HON"EYWOOD. 
 
 St. Jonx Hon'eywood was born in 1764, the son 
 of an English physician who had settled in Lei- 
 cester, Mass. In 176G the father, then a surgeon 
 in the American army, lost his life at Ticonderoga, 
 leaving his son an orphan and destitute. He was 
 educated at the expense of a few friends at the 
 school of Mr. Tisdale, in Lebanon, Conn., and 
 continued his studies at Yale College, where he 
 became domesticated in the house of th'e Presi- 
 dent, the Eev. Dr. Stiles, who always maintained 
 a high regard for his pupil. He took his degree 
 in 1782, and passed the two following years as a 
 teacher in an academy at Schenectady, New York. 
 He then removed to Albany and studied law in 
 the office of Peter W. Yates. After having been 
 admitted to the bar, he removed to Salem, Wash- 
 ington Co., where he practised his profession 
 during the remainder of his lite. He was one of 
 the Presidential electors by whom John Adams 
 was chosen the successor of Washington. He 
 
 * Mass. Hist. Collections, vol. vii. We are indebted for the 
 
 Eorsonal reminiscences to a communication from the pen of 
 »r. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
514 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 married in 1788 a daughter of Col. Mosely of 
 Westfield, Mass., and died Sept. 1, 1798. 
 
 4?72££r / 2t?sWZ& 
 
 The volume of his poems -would have appeared 
 in the author's lifetime, but death interrupted 
 his plan of publication, and the work fell for 
 biographical notice and editorship into the hands 
 of his successor, who married his widow, a mat- 
 ter-of-fact man, who records this circumstance 
 with coolness, and offers as an apology for the pau- 
 city of the facts his limited knowledge of the au- 
 thor; with whom his acquaintance seems to have 
 been mainly of a posthumous character. Of the 
 literary habits of Honeywood he records the com- 
 position of one of his short poems on fifty separate 
 pieces of paper — which, he trusts, with some uncer- 
 tainty, have been correctly joined together. 
 
 The little volume which contains these poems 
 was published in New York by T. & J- Swords 
 in 1801, and was dedicated to Josiah Ogden Hoff- 
 man, then Attornej'-General of the State. Unim- 
 portant as a collection of poetry, it is a curious 
 picture of the closing years of the last century 
 when Washington declined a re-election to the 
 Presidency (the subject for several pages of heroic 
 verse), when Shea rebelled in Massachusetts (cele- 
 brated in an ironical song), when Europe was 
 seething with the coming Revolution (a lively 
 news-monger's ballad), and Citizen Adet went 
 home to France full of the prestige of the new 
 republic of the west, duly impressed upon his 
 mind by a poetical address from St. John Honey- 
 wood. Then for purely domestic matters the 
 negroes were celebrating Pinxta, the ladies were 
 lyiug in in great state, or writing letters not in the 
 best of English — at least our poet inculcates 
 Entick in terms which would be superfluous at 
 the present day, when learning and good sense 
 are such common things. 
 
 Since daily occasion compels us to write, 
 Read these lines, my dear Clara, and learn to indite, 
 Here is then the great secret, to this you'll attend, 
 Write in just the same manner you'd speak to your 
 
 friend ; 
 Avoid all hard words and bombastical strain, 
 If jour style be but chaste, it can scarce be too 
 
 plain, 
 Many persons who've got a slight tincture of know- 
 ledge, 
 Young boarding-school misses, and students from 
 
 college, 
 By high sounding nonsense endeavor to please, 
 And talk of their bright and their gloomy ideas: 
 Avoid all this stiffness, this troublesome toil, 
 And write to your friends in your every day style. 
 
 These smoothly written verses, and others more 
 pointed, show the writer to have possessed a plea- 
 sant vein of humor. His graver attempts are 
 somewhat prosaic. 
 
 THE SELFISH MAN'S PEAYEE ON TIIE PROSPECT OF WAB. 
 
 Again the clouds of battle lour 
 
 Willi terror and dismay ; 
 Protect me, all disposing power, 
 
 Iu this disastrous day 1 
 
 As in the camp the soldiers learn 
 
 To riot, curse and swear, 
 'Twould give my pious soul concern 
 
 To have my boys go there ! 
 
 Then while my neighbours and their sons 
 
 Are called to war aid arms, 
 Grant that my boys, secure from guns, 
 
 May cultivate my faims I 
 
 And while with taxes and expense 
 
 My kindred are diBtress'd, 
 grant that all my hard-earn'd pence 
 
 May slumber iu the chest ! 
 
 And should the Frenchmen gain the day, 
 
 And all'their foes condemn : 
 Then may I wash my hands, aud say 
 
 I ne'er opposed them ! 
 
 Yet, if by thj- disposing will, 
 My country gains the cause, 
 
 may I find a shelter still 
 In her indulgent laws ! 
 
 And should she disbelieve my word, 
 
 May I upon thee call 
 To witness I ne'er drew my sword, 
 
 Or fir'd a gun at all. 
 
 For since from frailty and mistake 
 ]S"o carnal mind is free, 
 
 1 wish no active part to take, 
 But leave the whole to thee I 
 
 Though impious pirates on the seas 
 
 Our merchants' ships despoil; 
 Yet shall my spirit rest in ease 
 
 Till foes invade the soil. 
 
 Then let the fiends of battle rave, 
 
 My peaceful vales shall sing; 
 And oxen, corn, and all I have, 
 
 Full thrice their value bring. 
 
 may my lands yield twenty-fold, 
 
 The army to supply ; 
 May fat contractors, fraught with gold,. 
 
 My copious harvests buy I 
 
 May continental rags no more 
 
 Usurp the place of coin; 
 But crown my basket and my store 
 
 With blessings from the mine. 
 
 What though the fig-tree shall not bloom 
 
 Or oxen seek the siall ; 
 What though it be thy righteous doom 
 
 That half our youth shall fall : 
 
 Yet if thou wilt thy servant bless, 
 
 And my posterity, 
 I'll joy in my own righteousness, 
 
 To perpetuity. 
 
 TTTE pvese: 
 
 Addressed to a Friend. 
 
 The. Author was journeying with a friend : for convenience 
 they pursed, their money. When they parted tliey divided 
 their money and their purse (which teas of the double con- 
 struction), each taking one half or it. When he understood 
 his friend teas a candidate, for matrimony, 7te returnea 
 the half purse, with the following lines : — 
 
 This purse, long sever'd from its mate, 
 The grateful muse returns to thee; 
 
 Tis not oppress'd with golden weight, 
 Nor yet from cash entirely free. 
 
 This trifling sum, in prudent hands, 
 
 May raise, in time, a fair estate ; 
 And, truth to say, its silken bands 
 
 Are well-constructed to dilate. 
 
JOSEPH BROWN LADD. 
 
 515 
 
 Allien I fond purse; what though no more 
 
 You hold society with me, 
 May fortune bless thy master's store, 
 
 And cram thy sides with many a fee. 
 
 For well I ween the marriage state 
 Full oft thy succour must require, 
 
 With gen'rous food to heap the plate- 
 To crown the glass and feed the fire. 
 
 The parson, sure, will ask his hire 
 For making one who once were two; 
 
 And eke, when seasons may require, 
 For sprinkling round the holy dew. 
 
 The licens'd quack, of solemn face, 
 
 Of want and pinching times shall tell; 
 
 And take a fee, devoid of grace, 
 
 For making sick what late was well. 
 
 The merchant next,, with craving airs, 
 Hopes to receive his bill from you ; 
 Aud, in sarcastic tone, declares, 
 " He will discharge the balance due." 
 
 The landlord, rough, ungen'rous wight, 
 Proclaims your year and credit spent; 
 Then swears, occasions [tress so tight, 
 " He must expect a higher rent." 
 
 The tailor, cloth-curtailing rogue, 
 
 His long-stretched bill will oft display : 
 
 The lingo-prating pedagogue 
 
 Shall greet thee ev'ry quarter-day. 
 
 The French friseur shall oft complain 
 Of thirst, of hunger, heat and cold; 
 
 And what would best relieve his pain, 
 I trust you never need be told. 
 
 The simp'ring milliner shall prate 
 Of caps, of stays and negligees: 
 
 Then bode, O! purse impending fate, 
 Whene'er she whispers, if you please. 
 
 The cobler, too, when hunger plies, 
 At madam's foot will lowly bend ; 
 
 Admire its shape and handsome size, 
 
 And hopes that you will prove Ida friend. 
 
 Then honest John comes in to tell. 
 
 He longs to drink your worship's health, 
 
 And that, your honour knows full well, 
 Poor servants are not born to wealth. 
 
 Next Doll, with ill-affected blush, 
 Hints how she soon expects to wed; 
 
 That cash don't grow on every bush, 
 Aud that she late was brought to bed. 
 
 Then every black that dwells below 
 
 In sable order shall arise ; 
 First beg they may a Pinxt'ring* go, 
 
 Then hint the want of fresh supplies. 
 
 Now Master Jack or Dick shall come, 
 And in discordant whine relate, 
 
 How the rude boys have broke his drum, 
 And stole away his other skate. 
 
 Start not, my friend, thy better half 
 
 Shall join to bear the burden down: 
 She screams, and tells you, in a laugh, 
 " The sweetest China's come to town. 
 
 * 'Tis true, we should not run in debt ; 
 But such rare bargains must not pass : 
 And Mrs. Mayor lias bought a set, 
 And so have all the better class. 
 
 : Whitsuntide, a holiday for servants and slaves. 
 
 " And 1 my dear, I cannot bear 
 To miss the family of West; 
 The ablest connoisseurs declare, 
 Of all engravings 'tis the best 
 
 " Ten guineas only is the price ; 
 
 'Twill do to pay the mouey soon: 
 It is so elegant and nice 
 
 To hang in parlour or saloon. 
 
 " A harpsichord, at price still lower, 
 The auctioneer lias now to sell ; 
 And little Billey* always swore, 
 My fingers moved divinely well. 
 
 " A singing-bird, of tender age, 
 
 From India's groves has lately flown : 
 'Twill match the robin in the cage ; 
 And birds should never live alone." 
 
 "Stop here," you cry, " O wretch profuse!" 
 Have patience, friend, I scarce begin: 
 Proceed, and tell, celestial Muse, 
 The charges of a lying-in I 
 
 The accouthcur, in gratitude, 
 
 Must be well paid for every boy; 
 
 And surely all would deem it rude, 
 You treat not such as wish you joy. 
 
 Panada, caudle, many a cup; 
 
 Choice figs and raisins of the sun ; 
 And cakes of every sort made up — 
 
 Pound cake, wiy, wotfal, cruller, bun: 
 
 Imperial, souchong, congo teas, 
 
 When gossips come to pay their court ; 
 
 But bucks will not take up with these; 
 Be theirs Madeira, Sherry, Port. 
 
 Pins, too, in many a shining row; 
 
 Caps, bibs, and shoes of crimson skin; 
 Small ornaments of wond'rous show, 
 
 And robes to wrap the infant in. 
 
 A cradle to receive the child 
 
 When fortune sends a downy nap: 
 
 A pious tiurse, of temper mild, 
 To hush its cries, and get the pap. 
 
 Get many a volume neatly bound, 
 And give the wanton bairn to rear; 
 
 Whistles of shrill unpleasing sound, 
 And coral sticks, the gums to wear. 
 
 And next But stop, nor think to count 
 
 Uiinumber'd cares, unnumber'd tilings: 
 
 First tell the stars, then the amount 
 Of the vast cost which wedlock brings. 
 
 ! who in this unfathom'd pit, 
 
 In sober sense, would dare to plunge ; 
 
 Bun the mad chance of duns and debts, 
 To rot in jail — to starve — to spunge. 
 
 Far better on his luckless throat 
 
 A millstone's pond'rous bulk were hung; 
 
 Far better, in unmanly note, 
 He to Italian ears had sung. 
 
 JOSEPH BROWN L.VDD. 
 
 Josepti Brown Ladd, the son of William and 
 Sarah Ladd, was born at Newport, R. I., in 1764. 
 lie received the rudiments of an English educa- 
 tion, and at the early age of ten produced a few 
 verses not without merit. In 1775 his father 
 removed to a farm at Little Compton, which he 
 cultivated with the assistance of his sons. This 
 mode of life was distasteful to the young poet 
 
 * A teacher of music. 
 
516 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and would-be student, who was wont to hide 
 himself away with his books, and on one occa- 
 sion constructed a retreat in a thicket of alder 
 bushes, to which he resorted, with his silent com- 
 pahions, daily for many months without detec- 
 tion. At the end of three years his father con- 
 sented to a change, and placed him in a store ; 
 but this was still more repugnant to his tastes 
 than the farm. A printing-office was next tried, 
 where it was supposed his interest in books would 
 be satisfied. While he was employed in learning 
 his new trade, a gentleman who had noticed his 
 literary readiness, suggested to him to write bal- 
 lads on certain quack doctors in the town. The 
 success which followed the production of these 
 satires so elated him, that he shot at higher 
 game in the person of the celebrated divine, Dr. 
 Hopkins, minister at Newport. The doctor did not 
 relish the proceeding, complained to the father 
 of his assailant, and the incident led to his with- 
 drawal from the printing-office. In hi? next 
 change he was allowed to follow the bent of his 
 inclination, which was to become a physician, 
 and was placed in the charge of Dr. Isaac Senter. 
 This gentleman sympathized with the literary 
 tastes of his pupil, and rendered him good service 
 by lending him books, and directing his classical 
 as well as medical studies. During the four years 
 thus passed, most of his poems were written. 
 Many of them were addressed, under the signa- 
 ture of Arouet, to Amanda, a name by which he 
 designated a young lady to whom he was 
 attached. She was a young orphan heiress, and 
 her guardians are charged, by the writer of the 
 poet's biography prefixed to the collection of his 
 works in 1832, with throwing obstacles in the 
 way of the union for the purpose of keeping the 
 lucrative management of her estate in their own 
 hands, as the trust was stipulated to terminate 
 with the marriage of their ward. The lady 
 favored him if the guardians did not, and they 
 were privately engaged. 
 
 In 1783, General Greene, the revolutionary 
 hero, returned to Newport, and becoming ac- 
 quainted with Ladd, who had just completed his 
 medical education, recommended him to try his 
 fortune at the south. In pursuance of the advice, 
 he removed to Charleston, with letters of intro- 
 duction from his distinguished friend, and was 
 soon engaged in extensive practice. Here he 
 also became a contributor to the public pres«, and 
 
 Siblished, among other articles, a criticism on 
 r. Johnson, in which he exposes many of the 
 doctor's weak points, a daring literary venture 
 at that period. 
 
 In 1785 he was appointed, by Governor Moul- 
 trie, fourth of July orator at the second celebra- 
 tion of the day in Charleston, the. first there, or 
 in any part, it is said, of the country, having been 
 observed in 1778 by an address by Dr. Ramsay. 
 In November, 1786, a political controversy in the 
 newspapers in which he was engaged, led to a 
 challenge from his opponent, which he felt forced, 
 by the false public sentiment prevalent in the 
 community, to accept. He threw away his fire, 
 but received a wound from his antagonist which 
 put an end to his life at the age of twenty-two. 
 
 His literary remains were collected by his 
 sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Haskins, of Rhode Island, 
 and published, with a sketch of the author's life, 
 
 by W. B. Chittenden, in 1832, forty-six years 
 after his death. They consist of the poems to 
 Amanda of which we have spoken, and a num- 
 ber of verses on patriotic and occasional topics. 
 
 AN INVOCATION TO THE ALMIGnTT. WRITTEN AT THE AGH 
 OF TEN YEARS. 
 
 My God ! the Father of mankind, 
 Whose bounty all things share; 
 
 Let me thy grace my portion find — 
 All else beneath thy care. 
 
 I ask not titles, wealth, or state, 
 
 By joyless hearts possessed ; 
 Yet may I still be rich and great, 
 
 If virtue fill my breast. 
 
 Let fervent charity remain 
 
 Forever in my breast; 
 Oh ! let me feel another's pain, 
 
 In others' joys be blest. 
 
 To charity wdthin my breast, 
 
 Let steady faith unite ; 
 Nor let me from thy law depart, 
 
 Nor let me live by sight. 
 
 With patience fortify my mind, 
 
 To bear each future ill ; 
 In life and death, alike resigned 
 
 To thine unerring will. 
 
 ODE TO RETIREMENT. 
 
 Hail, sweet retirement ! hail ! 
 
 Best state of man below ; 
 To smooth the tide of passions frail, 
 
 And bear the soul away from scenery of wo. 
 When retired from busy noise, 
 Vexing cares, and troubled joys, 
 To a mild, serener air, 
 In the country, we repair; 
 Calm enjoy the rural scene, 
 Sportive o'er the meadows green. 
 When the sun's enlivening ray, 
 Speaks the genial month of May; 
 Lo ! his amorous, wanton beams, 
 Lance on yonder crystal streams ; 
 In soft dalliance pass the hours, 
 Kissing dew-drops from the flowers; 
 While soft music through the grove, 
 Sweetly tunes the soul to love; 
 And the hills, harmonious round, 
 Echo with responsive sound. 
 There the turtle dove alone; 
 Makes his soft; melodious moan ; 
 While from yonder bough 'tis heard. 
 Sweetly chirps the yellow bird : 
 There the linnet's downy throat, 
 Warbles the responsive note; 
 And to all the neighboring groves, 
 Robin redbreast tells his loves. 
 
 There, Amanda, we might walk, 
 And of soft endearments talk ; 
 Or, anon, we'd listen, love, 
 To the gently cooing dove. 
 In some sweet embowering shade, 
 Some fair seat by nature made, 
 I my love would gently place, 
 On the tender-woven grass; 
 Seated by thy lovely side, 
 Oh ! how great would be my pride: 
 While my soul should fix on thine — 
 Oh ! the joy to call thee mine. 
 
 For why should doves have more delight, 
 Than we, my sweet Amanda, might? 
 And why should larks and linnets be 
 More happy, lovely maid, than wef 
 
SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL 
 
 517 
 
 There the pride of genius blooms, 
 There sweet contemplation comes; 
 Tliere is science, heavenly fair; 
 Sweet philosophy is there. 
 With each author valued most, 
 Ancient glory, modern boast : 
 There the mind may revel o'er 
 Doughty deeds of days of yore; 
 How the mighty warriors stood— 
 How the field was dyed in blood — 
 How the shores were heaped with dead— 
 And the rivers streamed with red — ■ 
 While the heroes' souls on flame, 
 Urged them on to deathless fame : 
 Or we view a different age, 
 Pictured in the historic page ; 
 Kings descending from a throne — 
 Tyrants making kingdoms groan — 
 With each care on state allied, 
 With all the scenery of pride : 
 Or perhaps we'll study o'er 
 Books of philosophic lore ; 
 Read what Socrates has thought, 
 And how go 1-like Plato wrote ; 
 Vieiv the earth with Bacon's eyes, 
 Or with Newton read the skies ; 
 See each planetary ball, 
 One great sun attracting all; 
 All by gravitation held, 
 Self-attracted, self-repelled : 
 We shall cheat away old time, 
 Passing moments so sublime. 
 
 Hail, sweet retirement! hail! 
 Best state of man below; 
 
 To smooth the tide of passions frail, 
 
 And bear the soul away from scenery of wo. 
 
 WHAT IS HAPPINESS ? 
 
 'Tis an empty, fleeting shade, 
 
 By imagination made ; 
 
 'Tis a bubble, straw, or worse ; 
 
 'Tis a baby's hobby horse ; 
 
 'Tis a little living, clear ; 
 
 'Tis ten thousand pounds a year; 
 
 'Tis a title ; 'tis a name ; 
 
 'Tis a puff of empty fame, 
 
 Fickle as the breezes blow ; 
 
 'Tis a lady's yes or no : 
 
 And when the description's crowned, 
 
 'Tis just no inhere to be found. 
 
 SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL. 
 Few men have made a more varied and useful 
 employment of their abilities and acquirements 
 than this pioneer in American scientific research. 
 Samuel L. Mitchill was born in North Hempstead, 
 Queens County, Long Island, August 20, 1764. 
 He was the third son of a Quaker farmer, and 
 would probably have received few of the advan- 
 tages of early education but for the kindness of 
 his maternal uncle, Dr. Samuel Latham, of the 
 same village. He was placed by this relative 
 under the instruction of I)r. Leonard Cutting, a 
 graduate of Cambridge ("England), and received a 
 good classical education. He afterwards studied 
 medicine with Dr. Latham, and in 1780 removed 
 to New York, to receive the instructions of Dr. 
 Bard of that city. In 1783 he went to the cele- 
 brated school of Edinburgh, to complete his 
 studies. Here he remained nearly four years, the 
 contemporary at the University of Thomas Addis 
 Emmet and Sir James Mackintosh, enjoying the 
 
 best intellectual society of the eity. After re- 
 ceiving his diploma, he made a pedestrian tour 
 through a part of England with his friend William 
 Dunlap, and then returned to his native country. 
 He next devoted some time to legal and politi- 
 cal study under the direction of Robert Yates, 
 Chief Justice of the State of New York. In 
 consequence of this connexion he was appointed 
 (his first public trust) one of the Commissioners 
 to treat with the Iroquois for a cession of terri- 
 tory, and was present at the council held at Fort 
 Stanwix in 1788. In 1790 he was elected a 
 representative of his native county of Queens in 
 the Legislature of the State of New York. Li 
 1792 he received the appointment of professor of 
 chemistry, natural history, and philosophy, in 
 Columbia College. He introduced into his in- 
 struction, for the first time in the United States, 
 the new nomenclature of Lavoisier, but with a 
 dissent from some of the principles of that philo- 
 sopher. This exception involved him in a con- 
 troversy with Dr. Priestley, which was conducted 
 with such courtesy and mutual respect that it led 
 to the warm personal friendship of the combat- 
 ants. Dr. Mitchill's next public service was the 
 establishment, in 1793-4, in connexion with 
 Chancellor Livingston and Simeon De Witt, of 
 the Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, 
 Manufactures, and the Useful Arts. He delivered 
 the first public address before this body, and in 
 1796 made his report on the Mineralogy of the 
 State of New York. This was the first work of 
 the kind undertaken in the United States, and 
 secured its author a wide reputation in Europe 
 as well as his own country. It is published in 
 the first volume of the Medical Repository, a 
 periodical which was commenced in 1797 by Dr. 
 
 ^^>i^>i£^^(^^/c^n/^f . 
 
 ¥> 
 
 Mitchill, in connexion with his friends Drs. Ed- 
 ward Miller and Elihu H. Smith, and of which 
 he continued editor for more than sixteen years. 
 
518 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was a scientific and literary, as well as medical 
 periodica], and was published in quarterly num- 
 bers. 
 
 On the 23d of June, 1799, Dr. Mitchill was 
 married to Mrs. Catharine Cock, daughter of 
 Samuel Akerly. After this event, by which he 
 became possessed of an ample fortune, he devoted 
 himself entirely to scientific and public occupa- 
 tions. 
 
 In 1807, on the organization of the College of 
 Physicians and Surgeons of the City of New 
 York, he was appointed its first professor of 
 chemistry, an- office which his political duties 
 compelled him to decline, he having been elected 
 in 1800 a member of the House of Representa- 
 tives, and in 1804 of the Senate of the United 
 States. After the expiration of his term, in 
 1809, he was re-elected to the House. He sub- 
 sequently accepted a professorship of botany and 
 materia medica, on the re-organization of the in- 
 stitution in 1820, and discharged its duties until 
 1826, when, in consequence of difficulties with 
 the trustees, the entire body of professors resigned. 
 In addition to the literary, scientific, and political 
 labors we have mentioned, Dr. Mitchill was an 
 active member of most of the learned societies 
 of Europe and America. Numerous papers by 
 him are included in their Transactions; and he 
 was often called upon, at the anniversaries of 
 those of his own city, to appear as their orator. 
 His multifarious productions are consequently 
 scattered over a number of separate publications 
 and collections of pamphlets, and are somewhat 
 overshadowed by the reputation of the learned 
 bodies with which they are connected. They 
 have fallen, to some extent, into an unmerited 
 oblivion. 
 
 His elaborate History of the Botanical Writers 
 of America maybe found in the collections of the 
 New York Historical Society. His valuable 
 work on the Fishes of New York, the scientific 
 speciality for which he is particularly held in re- 
 pute, was printed, with illustrations, in the Tran- 
 sactions of the New York Literary and Philo- 
 sophical Society. 
 
 In addition to these scientific productions, Dr. 
 Mitchill was the author of an address delivered 
 at the old Presbyterian Church in Wall street, 
 May 12, 1795, before the Tammany Society or 
 Columbian Order, containing a semi-fanciful, 
 semi-historical account of the famous Indian chief, 
 the patron saint of the organization ; and of 
 funeral discourses in honor of Jefferson, Thomas 
 Addis Emmet, De Witt Clinton, and Dr. Bard. 
 In the progress of the discourse on Jefferson, he 
 has a happy remark on the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence : " For sententious brevity, strong ex- 
 pression, and orderly disposition of the topics, the 
 reading of it always brings to my mind that in- 
 comparable performance, the Litany of the 
 Christian Church. In this, miserable sinners in- 
 voke the Father of Heaven ; in that, suffering 
 subjects submit facts to a candid world. In the 
 latter, the One in Three is entreated to spare from 
 all evil and mischief those who have been re- 
 deemed; in the former, a worldly prince, for a 
 continuance of cruelties, is denounced as a tyrant 
 and unfit to be the ruler of a free people. In the 
 Litany, the church supplicates blessings and com- 
 forts from a being willing to grant them ; in the 
 
 Declaration, the nation puts at defiance the power 
 that neither pities nor forgives." 
 
 The Tammany address pretends to furnish a 
 biography of that worthy, who appears to have 
 been an Indian St. Patrick. It contains an ora- 
 tion purporting to be delivered by the chief, 
 which we annex, with a preliminary passage 
 explaining the circumstances. 
 
 The doctor occasionally addressed a few verses 
 to his wife, embellished the album of a lady peti- 
 tioner, or translated some Latin, Greek, or Italian 
 poem which attracted his fancy. He was a fluent 
 speaker, possessed a pleasant vein of humor, and 
 presided over the Sour Krout or addressed the 
 Turtle Club, associations formed for the indul- 
 gence of gastronomy and hilarity, with the same 
 acceptability as the Senate or hall of science. 
 He was fond of society, and was at all times 
 ready to receive and answer scientific inquiries. 
 His suavity was often mistaken for acquiescence. 
 His hospitality to new ideas as well as new comers 
 occasionally led him into mistakes ; though his 
 patient attention to the plans of theorizers was 
 often construed into and reported as an acqui- 
 escence in views which he was far from adopting. 
 The doctor was too prominent an object to escape 
 the shafts of the wits of the day, and they were 
 not at all backward in availing themselves of the 
 opportunity. -He probably enjoyed the jokes of 
 the Croakers and Fanny, as well as the rest of 
 the town, and sometimes, as in the case of his 
 early faith in steam navigation,* had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing time turn the laugh on his oppo- 
 nents. 
 
 An idea which Mitchill at one time advocated 
 with considerable ingenuity, was a new name for 
 the country. Of this there is a record in a pro- 
 duction in 1804, attributed to his pen — An Ad- 
 dress to the Fredes or People of the United States, 
 on the 28th anniversary of their independence. A 
 parenthesis on the title-page of this brief pamphlet 
 further explains the designation. "The modern 
 and appropriate name of the people of the United 
 States is Fredes or Fredonians, as the geographi- 
 cal name of their country is Fredon or Fredonia, 
 and their relations are expressed by the terms 
 Fredonian or Fredish." The address is in verse, 
 and celebrates the blessings enjoyed by America 
 in the fruits of its Revolution, the establishment 
 of the Constitution, and the general progress of 
 civilization, particularly in the extension of light- 
 houses and the post-office. The idea of Mitchill 
 was to provide a peculiar designation, a national 
 name for the people of the United States. Apa- 
 lachian, Alleghanian, and other terms have been 
 also projected to meet the same supposed want; 
 and a few years since there was a debate on the 
 topic in the New York Historical Society ; but if 
 ever the matter was seriously thought of it has 
 quite rapidly been rendered unnecessary by the 
 growth of the country, in filling up to so great an 
 extent the geographical limits of the appellation 
 now universally awarded of American. Mitchill, 
 who, like father Shandy, had a theory of names, 
 was ingenious in hitting upon Fredonia, a term 
 suggestive at once of a generous idea, and of such 
 
 * Mitchill was a warm and influential advocate, in the Legis- 
 lature, in the face of much ridicule and opposition, of the act 
 passed in 179S. which conferred on Livingston and Fulton the 
 exclusive right to navigate the waters of Kew York by steam. 
 
SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL. 
 
 519 
 
 readily grammatical adaptation as a noun and ad- 
 jective in Frede and Fredish.* 
 
 One of the social gatherings of the doctor's 
 day was styled the Krout Club. It was composed 
 of descendants of the original settlers of the city 
 of New York, who met together to eat a dinner 
 " after the maimer of the ancients " of Holland. 
 Cabbage in various culinary forms was a leading 
 ingredient of the feast, and it was customary, 
 after the election of a presiding officer, to crown 
 him with a cabbage head neatly scooped out, and 
 place on his shoulders a mantle composed of the 
 leaves of the same respected esculent. Dr. Hit- 
 chill accepted an invitation, on one occasion, in 
 1322, to one of these dinners, and being chosen 
 Crand Krout, delivered the following address, 
 while arrayed in the insignia of his office, har- 
 monizing happily with the sportive character of 
 the occasion : 
 
 This association owes its origin to our venerable 
 and festive ancestry. The cabbage is its emblem, 
 and a good symbol it is. The Bourbons displayed 
 their exalted lily, and the Bouapartes their humble 
 violet. The pine tree gave character to the money 
 coined before the revolution in Massachusetts, and 
 the white rose and red rose distinguished the parties 
 of York and Lancaster as they formerly existed in 
 England. The Scotch are proud of their thistle, the 
 Irish of their shamrock, and the Welsh of their 
 leek. 
 
 The virtues of the cabbage surpass all these, and 
 are worthy of the highest eulogium. The plant 
 belongs to the natural family of the antiscorbutics. 
 It is capable of purifying the blood, and of rectify- 
 ing the humors. Whether eaten raw or boiled, or 
 after preparation in our excellent way of Sour 
 Krout, the article is worthy of particular commenda- 
 tion. The sherris-sack celebrated by Falstatf is, not- 
 withstanding its extraordinary virtues, far inferior 
 to Krout. I recommend to all Scurvy feltbws, 
 wherever they may be, a course of this sovereign 
 remedy to make them sound and whole. ' 
 
 Great exertions are made by gardeners and farm- 
 ers to cultivate the precious vegetable in large 
 quantity and of good quality. Their industry is 
 stimulated by the premiums of patriotic societies. 
 They do well in granting such premiums. Its nutri- 
 tious and succulent leaves increase the cow's mea- 
 sure of milk ; which when mingled with eggs gives 
 us custards, with isinglass regales us with blane 
 mange, and when converted into butter ministers to 
 our taste and luxury in an hundred ways. 
 
 Best member in the family of Brasslca ! salu- 
 brious is the employment and sweet the reward of 
 rearing thee, of tending thee and preparing thee for 
 the mouth and the stomach! 
 
 Moral, and sober, and industrious are the persons 
 who are devoted to thee ! Thou impartest strength 
 to the muscles, sensibility to the nerves, and integri- 
 ty to the brain. The social principle is safe in thy 
 keeping. Thy constitution is such that ardent and 
 intoxicating drink cannot be prepared from thee. 
 Thou sustainest without exhausting, and invigoratest 
 without depression. Thy votaries here present give 
 evidence in their looks and conduct, how admirably 
 
 * A year or two later, in 1806, Fessenden, in the notes to his 
 J/o&oeme.y, has this repudiation of the term: " Fredonia is a 
 cant phrase, which eerta'n small poets or prosaic scribblers, we 
 forget which, would have us adopt as an appellation to desig- 
 nate the United States of America. At a time like this, when 
 misrule and licentiousness aie me order of the day, there can 
 be but little propriety in coining new phrases to enrich the vo- 
 cabulary of sedition. 
 
 thou conducest to innocent recreation and to festive 
 joy. Thy name lias been abused, as if to cabbage 
 were to pilfer or steal. I repel witli indignation this 
 attempt to sully thy fame. 
 
 Dr. Mitchill also addressed the Turtle Club, an 
 association of the " solid men " of the city, who 
 assembled in a grove atHoboken to increase their 
 solidity by a plentiful repast on the aldermanic 
 dainty. After a learned, scientific, and classical 
 dissertation on the testudo, natural, military, and 
 mythological, he continues : — 
 
 With so many excellent and memorable qualities, 
 it is by no means a circumstance of marvel, that the 
 name of a feathered favorite should have been trans- 
 ferred to this amphibious creature. The resident 
 of the groves, where the leafy foresters staud close 
 enough to exclude piercing sunshine, and where the 
 domestic locust trees (robinia), limetrees (tilia), and 
 tulip trees (liriodendron), stretch out their arms as it 
 were to welcome those exotics the poplars from the 
 Po, and the willows from the Euphrates, to become 
 joint tenants with them, the Love has been obliged 
 to surrender a part of her title, and by an odd per- 
 version of language, the Turtle means the cooing 
 bird of Fredonia, and also the four-footed reptile of 
 Bahama. 
 
 From the extraordinary and multifarious functions 
 of this oviparous quadruped, a riddle was composed 
 by the witty Symposius, propounding the question 
 whether that living existence was a beast, a fish, or 
 a harp, as you may read in his collection of enigmas. 
 
 After a statement of these particulars, I feel more 
 than ordinary satisfaction in observing that some of 
 the nations of the south regard the green tortoise as 
 a sacred object; a peculiar gift of the Great Master 
 of Breath. Certain of them have proceeded so far 
 under this persuasion, as to denominate him the i'i.sA 
 of God, or, in the dialect of the French colonists, 
 Poisson de Dicu. The correct and honest indigenes 
 ascribe to the soup, or in other words the decoction 
 of its flesh, swallowed after a venomous draught has 
 been received into the stomach, the most astonishing 
 effects as an antidote or counter poison. 
 
 What more shall I say on this head? Why, truly, 
 that this exquisite preparation surpasses all the other 
 compounds of the kitchen and the shop. Perhaps 
 there is no other known that possesses in so eminent 
 a degree the properties both of food and medicine. 
 It is an aliment of the most palatable and nutritious 
 kind ; so elaborated by coction in the cauldron, that 
 very little digestion in the stomach is necessary. It 
 assimilates with our nature, and becomes part and 
 parcel of our living frame more readily than almost 
 any other substance ; subduing crudities, rendering 
 the humors bland, and promoting good humor and 
 hilarity to an extraordinary degree. It begets 
 amenity and suavity of temper. It diminishes the 
 proueuess to give and to take offence, and I proclaim 
 the information to the universe that no quarrel be- 
 tween the members has ever arisen upon this hal- 
 lowed spot, rendering a settlement necessary by 
 single combat. 
 
 Nor are its virtues less prominent as a prophylac- 
 tic, or preventer of disease. Come hither, all ye 
 lean and tabid sufferers ! Ye who are wasted by 
 atrophy and emaciation! and ye who are lingering 
 with hectic fever and king's evil! Approach, I say, 
 and receive the benefit of a panacea incomparably 
 better than the boasted balsams which occupy 
 columns of the gazettes. Invitation is hereby in 
 like manner given to all who are in jeopardy from 
 malignant disorders, whether engendered from mor- 
 bid distemperature within the. system, or through a 
 sickly commixture of the atmospheric elements, or 
 
520 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 by the introduction of a virus from a foreign place. 
 Know, ye supporters of imported contagion in the 
 yellow fever, that the tropical latitudes, which are 
 accused of sending us the bane, must be allowed the 
 credit of forwarding likewise the remedy. 
 
 It has been regretted by some persons of taste, 
 that the Tortoise, like the turtle, is not furnished 
 with wings ; those nimble members, which convert 
 a child into a Cupid, a horse into a Pegasus, a per- 
 sonified breeze into a Zephyr, and loose words into 
 a compact sentence.* The fancy of the poet and 
 the colouring of the painter ma}', however, supply 
 this defect. Imagination may thus be strengthened 
 to conceive how the supporter of men and things 
 shall soar from the element on which he has floated 
 time immemorial, and give us a flight through space, 
 combining the velocity of a meteor with the eccen- 
 tricity of a comet, or transporting the whole of his 
 ponderous charge in a way that the ingenious and 
 inventive Greeks never comprehended, to the region 
 of perfect beatitude. 
 
 The most celebrated of Dr. Mitchill's poetical 
 productions are his translations of the third and 
 fifth of the Piscatory Eclogues (five in number) 
 of Sannazarius, a Neapolitan .pastoral poet 01' the 
 age of Leo X. De Witt Clinton, in a note to his 
 address before the Literary and Philosophical So- 
 ciety, gives the first of these as a " literary curi- 
 osity " of interest in connexion with the Doctor's 
 investigations on ichthyology, and follows with the 
 second, as " procured from Dr. Mitchill by the 
 editor." The first is a dialogue between Celadon, 
 Mopsus, Chronus, and Mas, four fishermen, who 
 extol the charms of their mistresses, Chloris and 
 Nisa, by similes drawn from their occupation. 
 In the second, the punishment indicted by an en- 
 chantress, Herpylis, upon Mceon, a faithless swain 
 who had deserted a maiden and thus driven her 
 mad, and the passion of Thelgon for the unpitying 
 nymph Galatea, are dwelt upon. 
 
 Similes like the following hit Mitchill's fancy :- 
 
 With weeping dewy wet this spunge appears; 
 Oh sea-grown spunge imbibe my copious tears; 
 And as thy thirsty pores the drops inhale, 
 Ma3''st thou ungrateful Mceon's breast assail." 
 
 Revolve, thou wheel, my bands pursue your 
 race, 
 
 And whirl, spindle, with a hurried pace. 
 
 The pumice fattens as the waves subside, 
 That toss'd by winds, convey'd it far and wide; 
 But how can I, oppress'd by poignant grief, 
 From empty words and moaning, hope relief? 
 And all tiie wrongs by graceless Moeon done 
 Shall I content repay in words alone? 
 
 Revolve, thou wheel, my bands pursue your 
 race, 
 
 And whirl, spindle, with a hurried pace. 
 
 In the following poems he has also shown his 
 affection for his favorite sciences. 
 
 ELEGY ON A SHELL — TUE NAUTILUS! 
 
 I saw thee, beauteous form, 
 As late I walked the oceanic strand, 
 And as my curiosity was warm, 
 
 I took thee in my hand. 
 Soon I discovered, a terrific storm, 
 
 Which nothing human could command, 
 Had robbed thee of thy life and east thee on the 
 sand. 
 
 * Ettccl Urzpoci'ra, wlrjged words. 
 
 Thou wast a house with many chambers fraught, 
 
 Built by a Nautilus or Argonaut, 
 
 With fitness, symmetry, and skill, 
 
 To suit the owner's taste and sovereign will. 
 
 In curves of elegance thy shape appears, 
 Surpassing art through centuries of years, 
 By tints and colours brilliant made, 
 And all, — the finished workman has displayed. 
 
 In life thy home was near Manilla's shore, 
 Where on the bottom groves of coral grow, 
 And when aweary of thy seat below, 
 
 Thee and thy architect the flood uplifted bore. 
 
 Then on the surface of the placid wave, 
 With guiding oars and elevated sail, 
 Thou didst enjoy the pleasure-breathing gale, 
 
 And hi the sea thy healthy body lave. 
 
 To thee allied is many a splendid shell, 
 In wdiich a fair Mollusax used to dwell, 
 Such as the Harpa, marked with chorded signs, 
 The Musica, witli imitative lines, 
 The Cowry, with its spots and figures gay, 
 The Cone, distinguished by its rich array, 
 The smooth Volute, that glossy beauty bears, 
 The prized Scalaria, with its winding stairs, 
 The Murex, famous for its purple dye, 
 The Trochua, dressed to captivate the eye, 
 And Buccinum and Strombus, taught to sound 
 Their signal notes to every region round. 
 
 These sorts and more, through rich museums spread, 
 Are vacant dwellings, and their tenants dead, 
 And though there's not an occupant alive, 
 The well cemented tenements survive. 
 So man erects in sumptuous mode 
 A structure proud for his abode, 
 But knows not, when of life bereft, 
 Who'll creep within the shell he left. 
 
 PYTnAGOBAS AND SAPPHO, OE THE DIAMOND AND TIIE K03E. 
 
 Long time ago, 'tis well expressed, 
 
 • Pythagoras the seer 
 
 This question artfully addressed 
 
 To beauteous Sappho's ear : 
 "When hence thou shalt be forced to flee, 
 
 By transmigration's power, 
 Wouldst thou indeed prefer to be 
 
 A jewel or a flower?" 
 
 Tlie Lesbian maid these words returne 1 
 To greet the Snmiaii sage, 
 "For gems my taste has never burned, 
 And flowers my choice engsge. 
 
 "The glittering stones, though lich a:;d rare, 
 IS'o animation know, 
 While vegetables fine and fair 
 With vital action glow. 
 
 "The senseless gem no pleasure moves, 
 Displayed in fashion's use, 
 But flowers enjoy their gentle loves, 
 And progeny produce. 
 
 "Then when I shall surmount," she cried, 
 " Rude dissolution's storm, 
 Oh ! let me not be petrified, 
 But wear a living form. 
 
 " Those matchless rays the diamond shows, 
 Witli promptness I decline, 
 
 That I may dwell within the rose 
 An d make its blossoms mine." 
 
 One of the doctor's literary amnsements was 
 the preparation of a pamphlet of eight pages, 
 bearing the title, " Some of the Memorable Events 
 
SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL. 
 
 521 
 
 and Occurrences in the Life of Samuel L. Mitchill, 
 of New York, from the year 1786 to 1827." It 
 is a chronological enumeration of one hundred 
 and ninety-two distinct items of the achievements 
 and associations of his active career. We select 
 a portion of the record. 
 
 1. Returns from Europe with the diploma of M.D- 
 from Edinburgh, obtained in 1786 — after having 
 heen initiated into the mysteries of Free Masonry, 
 in the Latin Lodge of the Eoman Eagle, by the 
 famous Joannes Bruno — 1787. 
 
 2. Visits Saratoga Springs while surrounded by 
 the forest, and ascertains experimentally, that the 
 gas extricated from the water was fixed air, with 
 the power to extinguish tlame, destroy the life of 
 breathing animals, <fcc. 1787. 
 
 4. Walks with Josiah Ogden Hoffman, "William 
 Dunlap, Joseph Hunt and others, in the very grand 
 procession for celebrating the adoption of the Con- 
 stitution of the United States, under the guidance of 
 Col. Richard Piatt, directing the place for the Philo- 
 logical Society— 1788. 
 
 5. Attends the Treaty at Fort Schuyler, by which 
 the Mingos. or Five Nations of Indians, sold the great 
 Western District to the people of New York, and 
 subscribed the deed as a witness — 1788. Receives 
 personal names from the Oneidas and Onondagas. 
 
 11. Exerts himself to form a Library in the town 
 upon Long Island, where he was born, under the 
 name of the " North Hempstead Library Associa- 
 tion;" which still subsists and improves — 1791. 
 
 17. Exhibits at full length, in a printed Essay, the 
 actual state of learning in Columbia College — 1794 
 
 19. Makes a detailed report to the Agricultural 
 Society, of his geological and mineralogical observa- 
 tions during a tour performed at their request, to 
 the banks of the Hudson for Coal, <fec. — December, 
 1796 — a performance respectfully quoted by Count 
 Volney. 
 
 20. Member of the Assembly for the City and 
 County of New-York, witli Messrs. Fairlie, Hunt, 
 Arcularius, Clinton, Burr, Swartwout, Storm, Robins, 
 and Warner — April, 1797. 
 
 26. Makes the famous motion about the sixth 
 Levitical commandment, in the House of Assembly 
 at Albany, requiring citizens to labour six days, as 
 we'd as refrain from it on the seventh — February, 
 1798. (See Journal of the House.) 
 
 29. Delivers the Anniversary Discourse to the 
 assembled citizens on the National Festival, in the 
 Presbyterian Church, Bcekman-street — July 4, 1799. 
 
 31. Publishes a chart of Chymical Nomenclature 
 with an explanatory memoir; in which he contends 
 that metals in their ductile and malleable state are 
 compounds of a base with hydrogen (phlogiston) ; as 
 in their calciform state they consist of a base with 
 oxygen : and that in several there is an intermediate 
 condition, in which there is no union either with 
 hydrogen or oxygen. He extended the same doc- 
 trine to the greater part of inflammable bodies — 
 1801. 
 
 34. Corresponds with Albert Gallatin, Secretary 
 of the Treasury, on the project for illuminating the 
 Light Houses of the United States witli inflammable 
 air— April 30, 1S02. (5 Med. Rep. p: 463—465.) 
 
 56. Translates from the Latin Lancisi's book on 
 the noxious exhalations of Marshes, at Washington, 
 during the winter of 1806-7 — afterwards printed in 
 the Medical Repository. 
 
 59. Writes the introduction to the American Edi- 
 tion of Assalini's Observations on the Plague, Dysen- 
 tery, and Ophthnlmy of Egypt, published by T. & J. 
 Swords, at New-York — 1806. 
 
 71. Performs with Robert Fulton the first voyage 
 in a Steam-Boat — August, 1S08. 
 
 73. At the request of the College, delivers a public 
 Eulogy upon Professor Rush, one of the most dis- 
 tinguished of Fredonian citizens, and his worthy 
 friend. 
 
 76. Visits Upper Canada, and describes the Mine- 
 ralogy of Niagara Falls — Summer, 1809. 
 
 87. Brings up for adoption, by the House of Re- 
 presentatives, a report favourable to the nascent 
 nations of Spanish America, and full of good wishes 
 towards them, in their exertions to become free and 
 independent — December 11, 1811. 
 
 89. Visits West Point, and writes the History of 
 memorable occurrences there, and of the Military 
 Academy — May, 1812. 
 
 90. Visits his friend George Clinton, during his 
 last illness, at the seat of government : and after his 
 death, as Vice-President, acts as a member of the 
 joint committee of the two Houses of Congress to 
 superintend his funeral obsequies — 1812. 
 
 91. Visits Harper's Ferry, and describes the Geo- 
 logy of the Scenery where the Potomac and Shenan- 
 doah have forced their passages through the Blue 
 Mountain — July 4, 1812. 
 
 97. Acts as a Commissioner under the Navy 
 Department of the United States, for constructing a 
 Floating Battery, or heavy vessel of war, to defend 
 the coasts and harbours of the United States : asso- 
 ciated with Messrs. H. Rutgers, Th. Morris, Oliver 
 Wolcott, and H. Dearborn, agents ; with R. Fulton 
 as engineer, and A. & N. Brown as constructors — 
 1813-14. 
 
 102. Labours jointly with his patriotic neighbours, 
 with mattock and shoveJ, in the trenches, for several 
 days, to erect fortifications against the enemy — 
 1814. 
 
 103. Acts with Hosack and Williamson in laying 
 the foundation of a Literary and Philosophical 
 Society in New-York — 1S15. Reads a detailed nar- 
 rative of the Earthquakes in the United States, and 
 in foreign parts, during 1811, '12, and '13. Offers to 
 the same a description and classification of 166 species 
 of Fish, chiefly found in the fresh and salt waters 
 adjacent to the City of New York ; upwards of 40 
 additional species were described in Bigelow and 
 Holly's Magazine, and several more in the Journal of 
 the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences. 
 
 106. As a member of a- Committee, joins his 
 friends in petitioning the Common Council for a 
 grant of the building in the North Park, for the 
 purposes of Literature, Science, and Arts. 
 
 107. Pronounces a public Lecture in explanation 
 of Somnium, or Dream, as a state different both 
 from wakefulness and sleep — November, 1815. 
 
 117. Makes an excursion to the region watered 
 by the Walll.ill, with his friend Silvanus Miller, and 
 at Chester they and their companions' succeed in 
 disinterring a mammoth — August, 1817. 
 
 118. Joins Captain Partridge, and other friends, in 
 an excursion to the Neversink Hills, near Sandy 
 Hook, and aids in correcting a dangerous mistake 
 in their altitude, which is in reality not half so 
 great (less than 300 feet) as had been commonly 
 supposed (600 feet). 
 
 122. Brevet from his Excellency De Witt Clinton, 
 LL.D., Governor of New-York, Captain General, &c. 
 for the office of Surgeon General to the Militia of 
 the Commonwealth — August 5, ISIS. 
 
 128. Vice-President of the District Convention, 
 which met at Philadelphia, for preparing a National 
 Pharmacopoeia, whereof Thomas Parke was Presi- 
 dent, and Lyman Spaulding Secretary — June 1, 
 1S19. 
 
 131. Acts with Samuel Wood and Garret K. 
 
522 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Lawrence, in recommending to the public the 
 Willow-leaved Meadow-Sweet, or Spiraea Salici- 
 folia of North America, as an admirable article for 
 refreshment and health, and as a substitute for the 
 tea of China— July, 1819. 
 
 147. Receives a splendid Diamond Ring from the 
 Emperor of all the Russias, brought by Captain 
 Josiah Barker, through Mr. Pinckney, the American 
 Charge d' Affaires at St. Petersburgh, pursuant to the 
 request of the Minister, Count Nesselrode — May 23, 
 1821. 
 
 151. Delivers the Annual Oration to the Phi- 
 Beta-Kappa Society of Union College, Schenectady 
 —July 24, 1821. 
 
 156. Gives the public introductory Lecture in the 
 College of Physicians, &c. on the life and writings 
 of their late President Samuel Bard, by appointment 
 of the Trustees — November 5, 1821. 
 
 168. Pronounces a Philosophical Discourse in St. 
 Stephen's Chapel, Bowery, to the class formed in 
 that Congregation for cultivating the Natural and 
 Physical Sciences ; under the auspices of the Rector, 
 Dr. Feltus — December 27, 1822. 
 
 170. Pronounces a Discourse on the Life and 
 Writings of Sir Charles Linnseus, before the learned 
 and fashionable collection of citizens who assembled 
 at Prince's justly celebrated Botanical Garden in 
 Flushing, on May 24, 1823, the anniversary of the 
 illustrious Swede's birth-day. 
 
 172. On an invitation from Albany and a mission 
 from New- York, performs, after the Venetian 
 example, the ceremony of marrying the Lakes to 
 the Ocean, at Albany, on the day of the unprece- 
 dented gathering of the people to witness the scene 
 of connecting the Western and Northern Canals with 
 the River Hudson — October 8, 1823. 
 
 175. Acts with William Bayard, Charles King, 
 Charles Wilkes, and a most respectable body of 
 other gentlemen, in a general Committee to receive 
 for and remit to the Greeks of the Morea and else- 
 where, the money contributed voluntarily by the 
 Citizens of the United States, to aid them in their 
 efforts to free themselves from the dominion of the 
 Turks and to establish an independence of their 
 own — a season of particular excitement among all 
 ranks — Feb. 7, 1824. 
 
 184. Acts with Richard Riker, Jacob Morton, R. 
 E. Mount, and others, on a central committee for cele- 
 brating the completion. of the Western Canal ; and in 
 the vicinity of Sandy Hook, pronounces an address on 
 the introduction of the Lady of the Lake to the 
 estate of her spouse the Lord of the Ocean — Nov. 4, 
 1825. 
 
 186. August 29th, delivers the Anniversary Dis- 
 course to the Horticultural Society, which was pub- 
 lished by request. 
 
 157. September 3, publishes by desire of the 
 Lyceum, a Catalogue of the Geological Articles and 
 Organic Remains which he presented to their 
 Museum, in a pamphlet of forty pages. 
 
 189. October 11th, pronounces before the Lyceum, 
 a funeral discourse, by appointment, on Thomas 
 Jefferson, one of its honorary members ; which was 
 printed. 
 
 Dr. Mitchill died at his residence in the city of 
 New York, September 7, 1831. A beautiful 
 monument was placed over his remains, removed 
 several years after his death to Greenwood Ceme- 
 tery, by his widow. The chief portion of his 
 extensive cabinet of minerals, valued at $10,000, 
 was presented by the same lady to the Lyceum 
 of Natural History. His biography was com- 
 menced and nearly completed by his brother-in- 
 
 law Dr. Akerly ;* but still remains in manuscript, 
 a circumstance to be regretted, as its completion 
 and publication would have reflected honor on its 
 author as well as subject. 
 
 SPEECH OP TA3IHANT. 
 
 As the eeeonomical and political system of our 
 legislator, were thus progressing to perfection, news 
 was brought by the young hunters, that a body of 
 strangers was approaching; that their dress, man- 
 ners, and language, differed from every thing seen 
 in those parts before; and that with tokens of peace 
 and friendship, they waited respectfully at a distance, 
 until they should be invited to advance. They 
 had, it was said, presents of great number and value 
 to offer, and intelligence of an important nature, to 
 communicate to the chief of the Tammanites. 
 
 They were instantly conducted in a plain, but 
 hospitable manner to the castle: enough of food, 
 and drink, was set before them ; and the best dress- 
 ed skins and the cleanest mats were offered them to 
 repose upon. 
 
 They then related the errand on which they 
 were sent : saying, they were the messengers of 
 Manco Capac, the great Inca of Peru, and the 
 descendant of the Smi ; that their Chief in deep 
 admiration and love for the character of Tammany, 
 had dispatched them, in order to testify the same, 
 and intreat the favor of an interview; that their 
 prince ardently wished to consult him on a form of 
 government he was about to establish for the Peru- 
 vian nation ; that the ornaments of gold and silver, 
 the suits of fine and costly clothing, and various 
 other natural and artificial productions of their 
 country, were brought along as a friendly donation; 
 which they prayed he would vouchsafe to accept ; 
 — and concluded with informing, that if he could 
 accommodate their anxious prince in this particular, 
 Mexico, a castle, nearly equi-distant from both 
 was pitched upon, on their part, as the place of 
 meeting. 
 
 Tammany was deeply affected with this extraor- 
 dinary message, but before concluding upon the 
 journey to the south, he called a general meeting of 
 his people, and informed them of the honor done 
 him, by the Inca. He expressed some desire, at first, 
 to accept the invitation ; but the concern for the 
 nation, to which he belonged, quickly extinguished 
 every idea of carrying it into effect, " for as I live, 
 not for myself," said lie, " but for my people, I must 
 not sacrifice their welfare, to the gratification of my 
 individual curiosity." 
 
 The Embassy of Manco Capac was about to de- 
 part, without succeeding in their business, when 
 upon the suggestion of the considerate old men, and 
 prudent matrons, that his journey might be attend- 
 ed with great benefit to mankind, Tammany witli 
 their consent and approbation, which was at length, 
 though reluctantly sanctioned, by all the tribes of 
 the nation, determined with an accompanyment, of 
 twenty chosen young men, to undertake the journey, 
 and have a talk with the illustrious Sachem of the 
 Andes. Previous to his departure, however, he 
 invited all his people to come together, and range 
 themselves by tribes, before him. And ns he did 
 not, like the equivocating Lycurgus, intend to make 
 them promise to observe his instructions, until his 
 return, and then go into voluntary exile, and die in 
 a foreign land; he delivered a few sententious pre- 
 cepts to each. They were as true and practical as 
 
 *Dr. Samuel Akerly (lied at Staten Island July 6, 1846, in 
 the sixtieth year of his age. lie wrote much on scientific and 
 medical topics In the journals, and took an active part iu the 
 humanitarian efforts of his day. 
 
SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL 
 
 523 
 
 ever Athens heard ; and were the result of his wis- 
 dom, and experience, in drawing useful lessons from 
 the animals who tenanted the forests. The tribes 
 rose one by one, as he addressed them. Old Nestor 
 himself, from whose lips, words of liquid sweetness 
 fell trickling, was not heard with more attention and 
 silence, than our American Sage ; nor did Solomon, 
 in all his glory, when he directed sluggards to learn 
 the ways of the ant, and be wise, interpret nature in 
 a more happy maimer: 
 
 Children of the first tribe!* 
 
 The eagle should be your model. He soars above 
 the clouds, loves the mountain tops, takes a broad 
 survey of the country round, and his watch- 
 fulness in the day time lets nothing escape him. 
 From him learn to direct your thouglits to elevated 
 objects, to rise superior to the fogs of prejudice and 
 passion, to behold in the clear atmosphere of reason 
 all things in their true light and posture; and never 
 expose yourselves to be surprized, while the sun 
 shines in a tit of drowsiness or slumber. 
 Children of the second tribe ! 
 
 The tyger affords a useful lesson for you. The ex- 
 ceeding agility of this creature, the extraordinary 
 quickness of his sight, and above all, his discriminat- 
 ing power in the 'lark, teach you to be stirring and 
 active in your respective callings, to look sharp to 
 every engagement you enter into; and to let neither 
 misty days, nor gloomy nights, make you lose sight 
 of the worthy object of your pursuit. 
 Children of the third tribe ! 
 
 You are to pay attention to the good qualities of 
 the deer. He possesses uncommon readiness of hear- 
 ing, can judge of sounds at a great distance, and 
 where danger threatens, and a retreat is advisable, 
 ean force his passage surprizingly through the thick- 
 ets, or even make his escape across the lakes and 
 rivers by swimming. 
 
 In like manner, open ye your ears to whatever is 
 passing; collect the substance of distant rumors; 
 and learn before danger surrounds your corn-fields 
 and wigwams, what is going on at a distance. Thus 
 shall you be forewarned, and prepared against 
 calamity from abroad ; and if it thickens and 
 threatens you with irresistible force, you will know 
 how to avoid, with prudence, what you could not 
 oppose with success. 
 
 Children of the fourth tribe! 
 
 There is one quality of the wolf, to which I re- 
 quest your attention. His wide extent of nostrils, 
 catches the atoms floating in the air, and gives him 
 notice of the approach of his prey, or his foe. Thus, 
 when power grows rank, and like a contagion, sends 
 abroad its pestilent steams, I see the wolf-like myr- 
 midons of Tammany, the first to rouse, turn round 
 their heads, and suuff oppression in every tainted 
 breeze. 
 
 Children of the fifth tribe I 
 
 You, my children, are to take useful hints from 
 the buffaloe. He is one of the strongest animals of 
 the wilderness; but strong as he is, he loves the 
 company of his kind, and is not fond of venturing 
 alone, upon distant excursions. This is wise in the 
 buffaloe, and wise will it be in you to imitate him. 
 
 It will, indeed, be your duty to acquire, by hunt- 
 ing, swimming, running, and all other manly ex- 
 ercises, great bodily vigor, and personal strength. 
 But it will be ridiculous to value yourselves highly 
 on these ; a fall, a cramp, or a sprain, hut too fre- 
 quently disables an individual ; and then, if he is 
 
 * Tin- Tammany Society is divided into thirteen tribes ; cor- 
 responding to the number of states in tbe Union, when the 
 society was instituted; and each tribe bears the name of an 
 animal according to tbe Indian method. 
 
 alone in the woods, he may perish for want of help. 
 Operate in concert, stand together, support each 
 other, and you will be a mountain, that nobody can 
 move; fritter down your strength in divisions, be- 
 come the sport of parties, let wigwam be divided 
 against wigwam, you will be an ant-hill, which a 
 baby can kick over. 
 
 Tammany told them, that disharmony would 
 terminate in their ruin ; and in union consisted their 
 salvation ; and impressed his people with the truth 
 of it, as forcibly as ever xEsop inculcated the same 
 doctrine, by his celebrated fable of the sticks. 
 Children of the sixth tribe I 
 
 That social and valuable creature, the dor/, affords 
 something for you to profit by. The warmth of his 
 attachment, the disinterestedness of his friendship, 
 and the unchangeableness of his fidelity, mark him 
 as the object of your kindness and imitation. Oh! 
 my children, I weep for the faithlessness, the false- 
 hood, and the deceit of man! Do but love each 
 other with half the warmth, sincerity, and steadi- 
 ness, with which these your constant hunting com- 
 panions love you all ; and happiness, comfort, and 
 joy will make your land their dwelling-place, and 
 ye shall experience all the pleasure, that human 
 nature ean bear. 
 
 Children of the seventh tribe! 
 
 You are to take a pattern from the beaver. His 
 industry merits your observance. His perseverance 
 claims your regard. His judgment, in the choice of 
 a place for him to live in, demands your considera- 
 tion. Like him, you are to avail yourselves of natural 
 advantages, and opportunities in all cases ; and to 
 superadd to these your manual improvements, and 
 works of art. In the pursuit of your industrious 
 project, no difficulty should deter, no obstacle dis- 
 courage you. Forests must be cleared, hills leveled, 
 rivers turned, to accomplish your plans ; and land 
 and water be made to afford their joint aid, in pio- 
 moting your undertaking ; labour and perseverance 
 overcome every thing ; — for I have heard the old 
 people say, their ancestors assisted in making the 
 sun light, and immense as he appears, by collecting 
 into a heap, all the fire-flies, and glow-worms they 
 could find ; and the moon, whose light is fainter, and 
 size smaller, was in like manner formed, by their 
 gathering into a pile all the fox-fire, or phosphoric 
 rotten wood, they could procure. 
 Children of the eighth tribe ! 
 
 The squirrel, my children, offers somewhat profit- 
 able to you. It is his practice, as he has a foresight 
 of winter, to collect acorns, chestnuts, and walnuts, 
 and carry them in large quantities to .his hole; and 
 these thus treasured up, supply him with nourish- 
 ment during the stormy season, when after the fall 
 of the leaf, it would be dangerous to venture far 
 abroad. In like manner it becomes you to look for- 
 ward to old age, the winter of life, and have some 
 provision ready to help yourselves with, at that 
 needy time. You cannot labour to equal advantage 
 every day ; it is therefore your duty to collect some- 
 thing ahead, and lay it by in store against the pinch- 
 ing severity of an unproductive season. This you 
 may enjoy by your fire-sides, while all around you 
 the frost rends the trees asunder, and the white 
 powder lies so thick upon the ground, that you can- 
 not venture out without your snow-shoes^ 
 Cutldren of the ninth tribe! 
 
 You are to learn a lesson of caution from ihefox. 
 He looks well before him as he travels, examines 
 carefully the ground he treads upon, and takes good 
 care that his enemies come not on him by surprize. 
 By reason of his wariness, he is not easily led into 
 a stratagem, and when entangled, by his contrivance, 
 is very successful in making his escape. Thus may 
 
524 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 you proceed in your business with circumspection, 
 examine all tilings around you with prudence, and 
 never suffer the artifices of the deceiver to entrap 
 you unawares. Such keen examination will guard 
 you from difficulties, and if in the course of nature, 
 you should be, in spite of all this, beset by them, 
 nothing will more effectually enable you to extricate 
 yourselves. 
 
 Children of the tenth tribe ! 
 
 The Tortoise, who supports on his back the world 
 we inhabit, offers a world of instruction to you. 
 Was it not for his benevolence in keeping afloat on 
 the immense ocean in which he swims, this land we 
 inhabit would soon go to the bottom. Ami the dis- 
 pleasure he feels when men lead lives of idleness 
 and vice, when they quarrel and injure their neigh- 
 bours, or neglect their families, has induced him 
 more than once to dip a part of his shell under the 
 waters, and drown a set of wretches no longer fit to 
 live. In other cases, where he wished rather to 
 terrify than to extirpate, the angry movements of 
 his body have caused distressful earthquakes, which 
 have made our vallies to tremble, and have rocked 
 our mountains from their foundations. Let the 
 winds blow from what quarter they list, let the 
 storm and the tempest howl, he withdraws from their 
 fury, and wraps himself up securely in his impene- 
 trable coat. His moderation, for he possesses none 
 of that feverish fretfulness, which shortens life, 
 secures to him great length of days. His temper- 
 ance, for he does not waste his vital energy in 
 frolicks and carousing, gives him an animation so 
 quick and inherent in every joint and member, that 
 it is difficult to kill him. If then you wish to at- 
 tain to long life, and possess sensibility and comfort 
 while it lasts, imitate the virtues of the tortoise, for 
 so shall you be protected with armour less vulner- 
 able than his shell, or your our own shields of bark 
 and hides, and arrive to good old age without danger 
 of earthquakes or inundations. 
 
 Children of the eleventh tribe ! 
 
 I recommend to your attention the wholesome 
 counsel derived to man from the Eel. He was never 
 known to make a noise or disturbance in the world, 
 norspeak an ungentle sentence to any living creature. 
 Slander never proceeded from his mouth, nor does 
 guile rest under his tongue. He forms his plans in 
 silence, carries them into effect without tumult, and 
 glides and slips along through life in a most easy and 
 gentle course. Are you desirous, my children, of 
 modest stillness and quiet? Do you wish for the 
 uuenvied condition of retirement and humility ? 
 Would you like to live peaceably among men in the 
 uninterrupted pursuit of your business, without at- 
 tracting the broad stare of the surrounding crowd? 
 If such are your desires, learn a lesson of wisdom 
 from the Eel ; who although he knows neither his 
 birth nor parentage, but is east an orphan upon 
 creation, yet shows by his strength and his numbers, 
 the excellence of the mode of life he has chosen. 
 Children of the twelfth tribe! 
 
 I shall point out for your improvement some ex- 
 cellent traits of character in the Bear, He is dis- 
 tinguished for his patient endurance of those incon- 
 veniences which he finds it impossible to ward off. 
 When frost and snow, with all their chilling horrors, 
 surround him in winter, he learns to live with a 
 smaller degree of heat than he did before ; and by 
 aid of his furry-skin protects himself as well as he 
 can from the rigor of the season. When from these 
 causes his supplies of nourishment are cut off, and 
 little or nothing is to be obtained to satisfy the 
 cravings of hunger, he endures with resolution the 
 calamities which await him, until the foodful season 
 shall arrive. Thus, when scarcity threatens your 
 
 country with famine — when diseases among the 
 beasts strew your hunting grounds with carcases — 
 when insects destroy the stalks of your beans, and 
 worms corrode the roots of your corn — when the 
 streams refuse their accustomed supplies of fish — 
 when hurricanes and hail lay waste your plantations 
 — or when the clouds withhold their stores of rain — 
 what is to be done ? Why certainly, when every 
 effort has been tried in vain, and discouraged and 
 spiritless you lay you down, lay not yourselves down 
 to die ; but bear with patience and resignation what- 
 ever necessity imposes upon you, make the allow- 
 ance of your meal correspond to your stock of pro- 
 vision ; and if you have but little, contrive with all 
 your skill to make that little do. Show yourselves 
 men, for it is adversity that gives scope to great 
 talents, by enabling you to endure with fortitude 
 what your best directed efforts have failed to sur- 
 mount. 
 
 Children of the thirteenth tribe ! 
 
 I call your attention to the order and economy of 
 the Bee. You observe among these creatures a dis- 
 cipline not surpassed by anything the woods afford. 
 The community is like yourselves, divided into 
 tribes, and each has its allotted employment. Hours 
 of labor, of refreshment, and of rest are assigned, 
 and each member is obedient to the summons of 
 duty. Idlers, vagrants, and embezzlers of the public 
 property have no toleration there ; and it seems to 
 be a pretty well established maxim, with but few 
 exceptions, among them, that he who works not shall 
 have nothing to eat. Regularity and method per- 
 vades every department of a government, whose un- 
 wearied inhabitants in their flights to distant places, 
 possess the singular secret of extracting honey 
 from nauseous and fetid blossoms, and of collecting, 
 without injury to any one, the whole sweets of the 
 surrounding country, in their own inimitable com- 
 monwealth. 
 
 Borrow from the Bees an idea of arrangement in 
 business ; of the importance of system to make mat- 
 ters go on aright, of the advantage accruing from 
 an accurate division and distribution of labor ; of 
 the equity causing every one to contribute his share 
 to the support of the general weal, or be precluded 
 from participating its benefits and blessings. And 
 above all, derive from their instructive example, 
 that alchemy of mind, which by an operation some- 
 what analogous to the production of nectar from 
 venom, converts private failings into public advan- 
 tages, and makes even crimes and vices ultimately 
 conducive to good. 
 
 BEOW^ TJXIVEESITY. 
 TnE College of Rhode Island had its origin in 
 the conception and personal exertions of the Rev. 
 James Manning, a clergyman of the Baptist 
 faith, a native of New Jersey, and graduate of 
 Princeton, who visited Newport in 1763, for the 
 purpose of securing to his brethren the influence 
 of the Baptists, then in the government, for the 
 establishment of a learned institution in the in- 
 terests of their denomination. A meeting of 
 friends of the undertaking assembled at the house 
 of Colonel Gardiner, the Deputy Governor; a 
 plan was proposed, and the work set in pro- 
 gress. A charter was obtained from the General 
 Assembly, in 1764, for the college or university, 
 in the English colony of Rhode Island and Pro- 
 vidence Plantations, in New England, in Ame- 
 rica, with a provision that the Trustees and 
 Fellows should at any time after be at liberty to 
 give it a more particular name, " in honor of the 
 
BROWN UNIVERSITY. 
 
 525 
 
 greatest and most distinguished benefactor." It 
 bore the title of the College of Rhode Island till 
 1804, when it became designated Brown Univer- 
 sity. The provisions of the charter gave a pre- 
 dominance to the Baptist interest in the number 
 of trustees, and the president is to be of that 
 denomination, with an unrestricted choice for the 
 remaining officers; but other religious interest- — 
 of Quakers, Oongregationalists, and Episcopalians 
 — are represented in a minority of the trustees: 
 and it was farther specially enacted "that into 
 this liberal and Catholic institution shall never 
 be admitted any religious tests, but, on the con- 
 trary, all the members shall for ever enjoy full, 
 free, absolute, and uninterrupted liberty of con- 
 science." In 1705, Manning was chosen the first 
 president, and instructed a few pupils at his 
 resilience at Warren, where the first Commence- 
 ment was held in 17G9. A local contest for the 
 seat of the college was terminated the next year by 
 the selection of Providence. The work of instruc- 
 tion went on with regularity till the Revolution, 
 when a gap occurs in the catalogue of Commence- 
 ments from 1777 to 1782. The college was occu- 
 pied at this time by the State militia, and as a 
 French hospital for the troops of Roohambeau. 
 In 1786, the president was elected to Congress, 
 where he gave his influence to the establishment 
 of the Constitution, still retaining his college 
 office. His death occurred in 1791, in his fifty- 
 third year. His personal character, says Allen, 
 was " of a kind and benevolent disposition, social 
 and com'municative, fitted rather for active life 
 than for retirement. Though he possessed good 
 abilities, he was prevented from intense study by 
 the peculiarity of his constitution. With a digni- 
 fied and majestic appearance, his address was 
 manly, familiar, and engaging."* 
 
 In 1792 he was succeeded in the presidency by 
 the Rev. Jonathan Maxcy, who, the year before, 
 upon the death of Manning, had been chosen Pro- 
 fessor of Divinity. He was a native of Attle- 
 borough, Mass., born in 1708, and is memorable 
 in the annals of American education for having 
 been president of three colleges, succeeding Ed- 
 wards at Union, when he left the Rhode Island 
 institution in 1802, and becoming the first presi- 
 dent of the college of South Carolina, at Colum- 
 bia, where he died in 1820. He must have pos- 
 sessed peculiar qualifications for the office. Judge 
 Pitman, a graduate of the college in the year 
 1799, during his administration, in an Alumni 
 Address,! speaks of him as " a man of great 
 dignity and grace in his manner and deportment, 
 with a countenance full of intellectual beauty," 
 and recalls his " musical voice, graceful action, 
 and harmonious periods," accomplishments never 
 thrown away on a position of this kind. 
 
 The Rev. Asa Messer occupied the presidency 
 for twenty-four years— from 1802 till 1820. He 
 was a graduate of the college, and had been long 
 employed in its service as Tutor and Professor of 
 the Languages and Mathematics. He survived 
 his final retirement from the college ten years, 
 when lie died at the age of sixty-seven. The 
 
 * Allen's Bioir. Diet, Art. .Tas. Manning. 
 
 t Address to the Alumni Association of Brown University, 
 delivered in Providence on their first anniversary, Sept. D, 
 1848, by John Pitman. 
 
 college flourished in his time, and was greatly 
 assisted by the very liberal grants of the Hon. 
 
 4W 
 
 Nicholas Brown. 
 
 Nicholas Brown, from whom the institution then 
 took its present .name. This gentleman, de- 
 scended from a pious ancestor, who came with 
 Roger Williams, was born in Providence, April 4, 
 1709. He was a graduate of the college under 
 President Manning. He became a member of the 
 Corporation in 1791, and was punctilious in 
 attention to its interests. His mercantile life, in 
 the partnership of Brown and Ives, brought him 
 great wealth. In 1804, having previously given 
 a law library, he founded a Professorship of 
 Oratory and Belles Lettres by a gift of five thou- 
 sand dollars. In 1823, he erected, at his sole 
 expense, a second college building, which was 
 called after the Christian name of his sister, Hope 
 College. lie presented the college with astrono- 
 mical apparatus. By his liberality, in 1837,' that 
 excellent and well furnished library institution, 
 the Providence Athenaeum, was placed on its 
 present footing of usefulness to that communitv. 
 
 For the library of the university and the erec- 
 tion of Manning Hall, the building in which it is 
 now advantageously placed, situated between Uni- 
 versity Hall and Hope College, Mr. Brown gave 
 the sum of nearly thirty thousand dollars. He also 
 gave the land for a third college building, and 
 for the president's house. His donations by will, 
 and altogether, amounted to at least one hundred 
 thousand dollars. This worthy benefactor, who 
 richly earned the honor of the college name, died 
 at Providence in the seventy-third year of his 
 age, Sept. 27, 1841.* 
 
 Dr. Wayland succeeded Messer in the presi- 
 dency in 1827. His administration has been dis- 
 tinguished by an important reform in the distri- 
 bution of the college studies, which he has 
 advocated in several publications with ability. 
 
 Francis Wayland was born in 1790, in the city 
 of Now York, of English parentage. In 1811 he 
 entered the Junior Class of Union College, and 
 received his degree in course. He then pursued 
 
 * A Discourse in Commemoration or tiie Life and Character 
 of the Hon. Nicholas Brown, delivered in the Chapel of Brown 
 University, Nov. 8, 1841, by Francis Wayland, President. 
 
526 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the study of medicine for three years, and was 
 licensed as a practitioner. His views, however, 
 led him to the ministry, and in 1816 he entered 
 the Theological Seminary at Andover, where he 
 passed a year under the instruction of the late 
 Professor Stuart, with whom lie formed a lasting 
 friendship. Narrow means led Wayland to ac- 
 cept a tutorship in Union College, a position 
 which then involved a much larger share of labor 
 and responsibility than at present, its duties being 
 extended to nearly every department of study. 
 He was tutor at Union from 1816 to 1821, and 
 the latter portion of the time preached to a con- 
 gregation at Burnt Hills. 
 
 The friendship and character of Dr. Nott at 
 this time greatly influenced Wayland's course, 
 who has availed himself of an important oppor- 
 tunity in the delivery of a literary address at the 
 fiftieth anniversary of the incumbency of the ve- 
 nerable President of Union, to express his obliga- 
 tions to one " to whom he owed more than any 
 other living man." In 1821 he became pastor of 
 the First Baptist Church in Boston, where he 
 continued for five years. His pulpit style at this 
 period, clear and impressive, may be judged of 
 from his volume of Discourses. One of his pub- 
 lished sermons of this period on the Moral Dig- 
 nity of the Missionary Enterprise, an eloquent 
 production, has had an extraordinary success, 
 passing through many editions in England and 
 America. In 1826, the year of his appointment 
 to the Presidency of Brown University, he was 
 for a short time Professor of Mathematics and 
 Natural Philosophy at Union. He entered upon 
 his duties at Providence in 1827. 
 
 The influence of Dr. Wayland's ability and 
 character was now shown in the new adjustment 
 and regulation of the college affairs. Its present 
 materials of books, a library building, and philo- 
 sophical apparatus, were brought together by the 
 aid of friends, and the discipline was strengthened 
 by the new head. The new life of the college 
 dates from this time. The President taught by 
 lectures in place of the old text books, and the 
 public have participated in his efforts within the 
 college by the publication of his works on Moral 
 Science, Political Economy, and Intellectual Phi- 
 losophy. These works have an English as well as 
 American reputation, and the Moral Science has 
 been translated into several foreign languages. 
 To increase the hold of the college upon the 
 community, Dr. Wayland next proposed a change 
 iu its working system, by which single studies 
 might be followed and college honors awarded for 
 a partial course. He had stated something of his 
 views on this subject 'in his Address in 1829 
 before the American Institute of Instruction. In 
 1842 he published Thoughts upon the Collegiate 
 System of the United States, which led to much 
 discussion. At length, in 1850, at the request of 
 the Corporation of Brown University, lie pre- 
 sented a report discussing the matter, showing 
 the defects of the prevailing system, and his plan 
 for its improvement. He thought the benefits of 
 the college should be extended beyond the small 
 class who pursued professional studies, and that 
 greater thoroughness might be attained in pur- 
 suing a part than the whole of a course too ex- 
 tended for the college period. To carry out these 
 ends, in the new provisions for instruction, one 
 
 hundred and thirty thousand dollars were sub- 
 scribed for. Practically, the change has been 
 successful. The number of students has been 
 doubled, and they are drawn from all classes ;* 
 while the reputation of the college has increased. 
 
 Dr. Wayland has also identified himself with a 
 similar movement in the affairs of his religious 
 denomination, by his advocacy of lay participa- 
 tion, and a better adaptation of pulpit training in 
 the work of the Christian ministry. 
 
 In addition to the works of President Way- 
 land which have been mentioned, are his Letters 
 on Slavery, addressed to the Rev. Dr. Fuller of 
 South Carolina, and his Life of the Missionary 
 Dr. Judson, published in 1853. 
 
 As a philosophical writer, Dr. Wayland's style 
 is marked by its force and clearness. He reduces 
 his theme to its simplest elements, and builds up 
 strongly his philosophical structure. He moves 
 slowly at first, but with increasing momentum to 
 the end. His reputation as an orator is deservedly 
 great, and the importance which his personal 
 character gives to the chair which he occupies, 
 undoubted. Of his habitual manner in enfolding 
 the argument of his subject in its rhetorical ap- 
 peal, of securing the convictions of his hearers 
 through their moral susceptibilities, we may take 
 the opening of his high argument for the mission- 
 ary enterprise. 
 
 MATTHEW Xm. 8S. — THE FIELD IS TIIE WORLD. 
 
 Philosophers have speculated much concerning a 
 process of sensation, which has commonly been de- 
 nominated the emotion of sublimity. Aware that, 
 like any other simple feeling, it must be incapuble 
 of definition, they have seldom attempted to define 
 it ; but, content with remarking the occasions on 
 which it is excited, have told us that it arises, in 
 general, from the contemplation of 'whatever is vast 
 in nature, splendid in intellect, or lofty in morals. 
 Or, to express the same idea somewhat varied, in the 
 language of a critic of antiquity, f " that alone is 
 truly sublime, of which the conception is vast, the 
 effect irresistible, and the remembrance scarcely if 
 ever to be erased. 1 ' 
 
 But although philosophers only have written 
 about this emotion, they are far from being the only 
 men who have felt it. The untutored peasant, 
 when he has seen the autumnal tempest collecting 
 between the hills, and, as it advanced, enveloping in 
 misty obscurity, village and hamlet, forest and mea- 
 dow, has tasted the sublime in all its reality ; and, 
 
 * In the practical management of the college to meet this 
 change, three degrees are conferred. That of Bachelor of 
 Arts is given to students who have pursued courses of one 
 year each, in an Ancient Language, a Modern Language, one iu 
 Mathematics, one in Rhetoric, one in History, and one in In- 
 tellectual and Moral Philosophy, with two others to be chosen 
 from the studies of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry and Phy- 
 siology, Didactics (a department of instruction in the philoso- 
 phy and discipline of school-keeping, opened for those who 
 wish to become professional teachers), Political Economy, and 
 Geology, or from advanced courses in any of the other depart- 
 ments. Th" degree of Bachelor of Philosophy requires 
 similar conditions, omitting the ancient languages: while the 
 degree of Master of Arts is reserved for those who pursue a 
 full course of liberal education, to the extent of each of the 
 Ancient Languages for one year and a half, Mathematics for 
 one year and a half, one Modern Language for one year, Natu- 
 ral Philosophy, Rhetoric and English Literature. Chemistry, 
 and Physiology, History, Intellectual and Moral Philosophy, 
 each, for one year. The remainiug courses for this degree 
 must he selected from the courses in Political Economy, Geo- 
 logy, Didactics, a second Modern Language, or from advanced 
 courses in an) r of the other departments, — Catalogue of the- 
 Officers and Students of Brown Uuiv. 185S-54. 
 
 T Longinus, sec. viL 
 
BROWN UNIVERSITY. 
 
 527 
 
 whilst the thunder has rolled and the lightning 
 flashed around him, has exulted in the view of 
 nature moving forth in her majesty. The untaught 
 sailor hoy, listlessly harkening to the idle ripple of 
 the midnight wave, when on a sudden he has thought 
 upon the unfathomable abyss beneath him, and the 
 wide waste of waters around him, and the infinite 
 expanse above him, has enjoyed to the full the 
 emotion of sublimity, whilst his inmost soul has 
 trembled at the vastness of its own conceptions. 
 But why need I multiply illustrations from nature ? 
 Who does not recollect the emotion lie has felt, 
 whilst surveying aught, in the material world, of 
 terror or of vastness ? , 
 
 And this sensation is not produced by grandeur 
 in material objects alone. It is also excited on most 
 of those occasions in which we see man tasking, to 
 the uttermost, the energies of his intellectual or 
 moral nature. Through the long lapse of centuries, 
 who, without emotion, has read of Leontdas and his 
 three hundred's throwing themselves as a barrier 
 before the myriads of Xerxes, and contending unto 
 death for the liberties of Greece! 
 
 But we need not turn to classic story to find all 
 that is great in human action ; we find it in our 
 own times, and in the history of our own country. 
 Who is there of us that even in the nursery has not 
 felt his spirit stir within him, when with child-like 
 wonder he has listened to the story of Washington? 
 And although the terms of the narrative were 
 scarcely intelligible, yet the young soul kindled at 
 the thought of one man's working out the deliver- 
 ance of a nation. And as our understanding, 
 strengthened by age, was at last able to grasp the 
 detail of this transaction, we saw that our infantile 
 conceptions had fallen far short of its grandeur. O ! 
 if an American citizen ever exults in the contempla- 
 tion of all that is sublime in human enterprise, it is 
 when, bringing to mind the men who first conceived 
 the idea of this nation's independence, he beholds 
 them estimating the power of her oppressor, the 
 resources of her citizens, deciding in their collected 
 might that this nation should be free, and through 
 the long years of trial that ensued, never blenching 
 from their purpose, but freely redeeming the pledge 
 . which they had given, to consecrate to it, " their 
 lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor." 
 
 Patriots have toil'd. and in their country's cause 
 Bled nobly, and their deeds, as they deserve, 
 Receive proud recompense. We srive in charge 
 Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic mu3e, 
 Proud of her treasure, marches with it down 
 To latest times ; and sculpture in her turn 
 Gives bond, in stone and ever during brass, 
 To guard them and immortalize her trust. ' 
 
 It will not be doubted that in such actions as 
 these, there is much which may be truly called the 
 moral sublime. If, then, we should attentively con- 
 sider them, we might perhaps ascertain what must 
 be the elements of that enterprise, which may lay 
 claim to this high appellation. It cannot be ex- 
 pected that on this occasion, we should analyze them 
 critically. It will, however, we think, be found, 
 upon examination, that to that enterprise alone has 
 been awarded the meed of sublimity, of which the 
 object was vast, the accomplishment arduous, and 
 the means to be employed simple but efficient. 
 Were not the object vast, it could not arrest our at- 
 tention. Were not its accomplishment arduous, 
 none of the nobler energies of man being tasked in 
 its execution, we should see nothing to admire. 
 Were not the means to that accomplishment simple, 
 our whole conception being vague, the impression 
 would be feeble. Were they not efficient, the in- 
 
 tensest exertion could only terminate in failure and 
 disgrace. 
 
 And here we may remark, that wherever these 
 elements have combined in any undertaking, public 
 sentiment has genernlly united in pronouncing it 
 sublime, and history has recorded its achievements 
 among the noblest proofs of the dignity of man. 
 Malice may for a while have frowned, and interest 
 opposed ; men who could neither grasp what was 
 vast, nor feel what was morally great, may have 
 ridiculed. But all this has soon passed away. 
 Human nature is not to be changed by the opposition 
 of interest, or the laugh of folly. There is still 
 enough of dignity in man to respect what is great, 
 and to venerate what is benevolent. The cause of 
 man has at last gained the suffrages of man. It has 
 advanced steadily onward, and left ridicule to won- 
 der at the impotence of its shaft, and malice to weep 
 over the ineffieacy of its hate. 
 
 And we bless God that it is so. It is cheering to 
 observe, that amidst so much that is debasing, there 
 is still something that is ennobling in the character 
 of man. It is delightful to know, that there are 
 times when his morally bedimmed eye " beams keen 
 with honor ;" that there is yet a redeeming spirit 
 within, which exults in enterprises of great pith and 
 moment. We love our race the better for every 
 such fact we discover concerning it, and bow with 
 more reverence to the dignity of human nature. 
 We rejoice that, shattered as has been the edifice, 
 there yet may be discovered, now and then, a mas- 
 sive pillar, and, here and there, a well turned arch, 
 which remind us of the symmetry of its former pro- 
 portions, and the perfection of its original structure. 
 
 Having paid this our honest tribute to the dignity 
 of man, we must pause, to lament over somewhat 
 which reminds us of any thing other than his 
 dignity. Whilst the general assertion is true, that 
 he is awake to all that is sublime in nature, and 
 much that is sublime in morals, there is reason to 
 believe that there is a single class of objects, whose 
 contemplation thrills all heaven with rapture, at 
 which he can gaze unlimited and unmoved. The 
 pen of inspiration has recorded, that the cross of 
 Christ, whose mysteries the angels desire to look 
 into, was to the tasteful and erudite Greek, foolish- 
 ness. And we fear that cases very analogous to this 
 may be witnessed at the present day. But why, my 
 hearers, should it be so ? Why should so vast a dis- 
 similarity of moral taste exist between seraphs who 
 bow before the throne, and men who dwell upon the 
 footstool? Why is it, that the man, whose soul 
 swells with ecstaey whilst viewing the innumerable 
 suns of midnight, feels no emotion of sublimity, 
 when thinking of their Creator ? Why is it, that an 
 enterprise of patriotism presents itself to his imagi- 
 nation beaming with celestial beauty, whilst the 
 enterprise of redeeming love is without form or 
 comeliness? Why should the noblest undertaking 
 of mercy, if it only combine among its essential 
 elements the distinctive principles of the gospel, be- 
 come at once stale, flat, and unprofitable? When 
 there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repentctii, 
 why is it that the enterprise of proclaiming peace on 
 earth, and good will to man, fraught, as it would 
 seem, with more than angelic benignity, should to 
 many of our fellow-men appear worthy of nothing 
 better than neglect or obloquy ? 
 
 The reason for all this we shall not on this oc- 
 casion pretend to assign. We have time only to ex- 
 press our regret that such should be the fact. Con- 
 fining ourselves therefore to the bearing which this 
 moral bias has upon the missionary cause, it is with 
 pain Ave are obliged to believe, that there is a large 
 and most respectable portion of our fellow-citizens, 
 
528 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Brown University. 
 
 for many of whom we entertain every sentiment of 
 personal esteem, and to whose opinions on most 
 other subjects we bow with unfeigned deference, 
 who look with perfect apathy upon the present 
 system of exertions for evangelizing the heathen ; 
 and we have been greatly misinformed, if there be 
 not another, though a very different class, who con- 
 sider these exertions a subject for ridicule. Perhaps 
 it may tend somewhat to arouse the apathy of the 
 one party, as well as to moderate the contempt of 
 the other, if we can show that this very missionary 
 cause combines within itself the elements of all that 
 is sublime in human purpose, nay, combines them in 
 a loftier perfection than any other enterprise, which 
 was ever linked with the destinies of man. To 
 show this, will be our design; and in prosecuting 
 it, we shall direct your attention to the grandeur 
 
 OF THE OBJECT ; the AEDUOUSNESS OF ITS EXECUTION ; 
 
 and the nature of the means on which we rely for 
 success. 
 
 When Dr. Samuel Miller published his Retro- 
 spect of the Eighteenth Century, in 1803, he 
 remarked, that " there was by no means a general 
 taste for literature in Rhode Island ;" but this 
 position is not confirmed by the College annals. 
 Previously to that time it had educated many 
 distinguished persons of the state, and taking its 
 whole career, including the liberality of its home 
 founders, it has contributed its full quota to the 
 American records of this kind. Among its early 
 graduates we read the mimes of Paul Allen, Tris- 
 tain Burgess, Henry Wheaton, James Tallmadge, 
 "William Hunter. Two of its old Professors or 
 Instructors deserve special notice, Dr. Benjamin 
 "Waterhouse and the lb n. Asher Robbins. 
 
 Benjamin "Waterhouse was born in Newport, 
 Rhode Island. His father, a Presbyterian, adopted 
 Quakerism, and the son was brought up in the 
 principles of that sect, which he never closely fol- 
 lowed. He was a pupil of Dr. FothergiU, in Lon- 
 don, and received his medical degree at Leyden. 
 From 1783, for thirty years, he was Professor of 
 the Theory and Practice of Medicine at Harvard. 
 From 1782 to 1795, he was a member of the 
 Board of Fellows of Rhode Wand College, and in 
 1784 was elected Professor of Natural History. 
 He delivered at this time, in the state-house at 
 
 Providence, the first course of lectures upon that 
 science ever given in the United States. He was 
 the author of an octavo volume on the Junius 
 question, supporting the authorship of Lord Chat- 
 ham. He died at Cambridge in 1846. 
 
 Asher Robbins was tutor from 1783 to 1790. 
 He was a native of Connecticut, and a graduate 
 of Tale in 1782. After resigning his tutorship, 
 during which he had become a thorough proficient 
 in the classics, he studied law with Attorney- 
 General Channing, of Newport, and established 
 himself there in that profession. His reputation 
 for familiarity with Greek was widely extended 
 among scholars. He died in February, 1845. 
 
 The name of the late Professor William Giles 
 Goddard is prominent in the annals of the Insti- 
 tution. He was of an old Connecticut family of 
 worth and public spirit. His father, William 
 Goddard, was long connected with the press* 
 The son was 1 >orn in Rhode Island, and was educated 
 at Brown University, developing a taste for polite 
 literature which was not checked by a partial 
 study of the law. In 1814, he purchased the 
 Rhode-Island American, a Federal paper at Pro- 
 vidence, and was its editor for eleven years. In 
 1S25, he received his appointment as Professor 
 of Mtiral Philosophy and Metaphysics in the Col- 
 lege, the style of the Professorship being changed, 
 in 1834, t'o that of Belles-Lettres. "ill-health 
 compelled his resignation in 1842. He died sud- 
 denly, February 16, 1846, at the age of fifty-two. 
 His published writings, apart from his political 
 and other newspaper topics, are his Brown Uni- 
 versity Phi Beta Kappa Address on " The A T alue 
 of Liberal Studies," his sketch cf the first Presi- 
 dent Manning, an Address on the Death of Wil- 
 liam Henry Harrison, and a Discourse on the 
 Change of the Civil Government of Rhode Island 
 in 1843. 
 
 * He established the first newspaper in Providence, the Ga- 
 zette, in 176& He was also associated with Parker's Gazctto in 
 New York, and commenced the publication of the Pennsyl- 
 vania Chronicle, in Philadelphia, in 1767. In 1773. lie started 
 the Maryland Journal, which he published till 1799. He was 
 a Whis in the Eevolution. After the Revolution he retired to 
 Rhode" Island. He died at Prnvidencoiu 1S17. in his seventy- 
 eighth year. — Prof. W. Gammell, in Updike's Hist, of Karra- 
 gansett Church, 156. 
 
JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD. 
 
 529 
 
 Associated with Professor Goddard in the date 
 of his appointment, in much of his academical ca- 
 reer, was Professor Romeo Elton, D.D., who was 
 at the head of the department of ancient lan- 
 guages and literature. He was a native of Con- 
 necticut, and became a graduate of the University 
 in 1812. He was settled for several years as a 
 clergyman of the Baptist denomination in New- 
 port, R. I., and in 1825 was appointed to the 
 professors] lip. Before entering on its duties he 
 spent two years in Europe, especially in Germany 
 and Italy. He continued in the college till 1813, 
 when he resigned, and has since resided in Exe- 
 ter, England, in retirement from active pursuits. 
 His published works, besides several sermons, are 
 Callendcr^s Century Sermon, edited with copious 
 notes, and biographical sketches; the Works of 
 President Maxcy, with an Introductory Memoir; 
 and more recently a Biographical Sketch of Ro- 
 ger Williams, which was fir.-t published in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Since 1814 Professor John L. Lincoln has been 
 at the head of the department, of the Latin lan- 
 guage and literature. He was born in Boston, 
 and early trained at its celebrated Latin school. 
 He became a graduate of the University in 1836, 
 and after holding the office ofHutor for two years, 
 passed a considerable period at the universities 
 of Berlin, Heidelberg, and Halle, in Germany, 
 and on his return in 1844 was appointed to the 
 professorship he. now fills. His published works, 
 in addition to numerous articles in reviews, are 
 an edition of Selections from Limps Roman His- 
 tory, with English notes, and an edition of the 
 Worts of Horace, both of which are extensively 
 used and in high repute. 
 
 Professor William Gammell was a graduate of 
 the class of 1831, and was soon afterwards ap- 
 pointed to the Latin tutorship. In 1835 he was 
 appointed instructor in the department of rheto- 
 ric, and was promoted to the professorship in 
 that department in 1836, a post which he con- 
 tinued to occupy till 1850, when he was appoint- 
 ed to the professorship of History and Political 
 Economy, which he now holds. He has published, 
 besides numerous articles in reviews, an Address 
 "before the Rhode Island Historical Society on the 
 occasion of the Opening of its Cabinet; Life of 
 Roger Williams, first printed in Sparks's Ameri- 
 can Biography, Second Series; Life of Governor 
 Samuel Ward, also in Sparks's Second Series; 
 and a History of American Baptist Missions. 
 
 The library of this institution, now a muni- 
 ficent collection, dates mainly since the Revolu- 
 tion, at the period immediately following which 
 its interests were maintained by the gifts and 
 personal exertions of John Brown, the brother of 
 Nicholas, whose donations we have mentioned. 
 Some thirteen hundred volumes were bequeathed 
 in 1818by an English Baptist clergyman, the Rev. 
 William Richards, of Lynn, a native of Wales, 
 who gave his library to the college, after assuring 
 himself of its liberal constitution. He was the 
 author of a History of Lynn, in England, a Re- 
 view of Noble's Cromwell Memoirs, and a Dic- 
 tionary of Welsh and English. His library, thus 
 given to the college, contained a number of Welsh 
 books, many illustrating the History and Anti- 
 quities of England and Wales, and two or three 
 hundred bound volumes of rare pamphlets. Con- 
 
 voi.. I. — 31 
 
 stant donations were now heaped upon the col- 
 lege shelves from various sources, including a col- 
 lection of gifts brought by Professor Elton from 
 Europe. The Hon. Tlieron Metcalf, of Boston, 
 gave a valuable series of fifty volumes of Ordina- 
 tion Sermons, which he had specially collected. 
 In 1853 there were in the library mure than thirty- 
 j five hundred pamphlets bound and catalogued, an 
 important provision in public collections often 
 • neglected. In 1831 Nicholas Brown laid thefoun- 
 I dation of the present library fund by a gift of ten 
 ! thousand dollars. The institution has now a per- 
 [ manent fund of twenty-five thousand dollars, the 
 interest of which, applied to the increase of the 
 library, has stored it with many of the most costly 
 and valuable books to be found in the country. 
 A special collection of the Church Fathers and 
 writers of the Reformation period was added to 
 the library in 1847, at an expense of two thou- 
 sand dollars, obtained at the suggestion of the 
 Rev. Samuel Osgood. The gathering of Ameri- 
 can historical materials has also been faithfully 
 pursued. A liberal policy is pursued in the con- 
 duct of the library. Reuben Aldridge Guild is 
 the present librarian (in 1855), having succeeded 
 Charles C. Jewett, in 1848.* 
 
 By the Triennial Catalogue of the University of 
 1852, it appears that the whole number of gra- 
 duates to that time was 1784, of whom 1173 
 were living. Of these 477 pursued divinity, of 
 whom 325 were living. 
 
 JOSIAS LYNDON AENOLD. 
 Josias Ltndox, the son of Dr. Jonathan Arnold, 
 was born in Providence in the year 1765. The 
 family removed soon after to St. Johnsbury, Vt. 
 Arnold entered Dartmouth College ; on the com- 
 pletion of his course taught school for a few 
 months in Plainfield, Conn., and then commenced 
 the study of the law in Providence. He was ad- 
 mitted to practice, but instead of pursuing his 
 profession, accepted the office of tutor at Brown 
 University. On his father's death in 1792, ho 
 removed to St. Johnsbury, where he married 
 Miss Perkinson, March, 1795, and died after a 
 ten-weeks' illness on the 7th June, 1796. 
 
 His poems were collected after his death in a 
 small volume, with a biographical preface signed 
 James Burrell, jun. The editor has performed 
 his duties carelessly, as he has included a poem 
 entitled The Dying Indian, which is to be found 
 in Frenean's Poems, ed. 1795, p. 59. The re- 
 maining contents of the volume consist of trans- 
 lations and imitations of Horace, one of which is 
 in the style of Sternhold and Hopkins. 
 
 It was published in the "Dartmouth Eagle," 
 accompanied by a note. 
 
 Mr. Ditmiah, — 
 
 / am an admirer of the simplicity of Sternhold 
 and Hopkins ; and am happy to find that, even in 
 tills enlightened age, those venerable bards of an- 
 tiquity have not only ambitious imitators, but even 
 formidable rivals. If the following translation has 
 any claim to excellence in this neat style, you are 
 
 * Mr. Jewctt'a Smithsonian Report of the U. S. Public Li- 
 braries (ls5( ) contains a full notice of the University Libra- 
 ries, pp. 53-GL See also its history in the preface to its cata- 
 logue. 
 
530 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 requested to give it a place in your Rill; not so 
 much for the amusement of your readers, as for a 
 sample to younn poets. 
 
 MARCUS. 
 
 Exegi monumenfum, &c. 
 
 Lib. 3, Ode 30. HoEiCE. 
 
 Of fame a mighty monument 
 
 In time erect will I, 
 Than brass more hard and durable, 
 
 Or eke eternity. 
 
 Sublimer — far more sublime, 
 
 Than pyramids full high, 
 That stretch their tops, and all upon 
 
 Fair Egypt's plain do lie. 
 
 Not Boreas, from out the north 
 
 Rude rushing all so bold, 
 Nor rain, nor -wind, that round doth roar, 
 
 Nor age that's yet untold : 
 
 Nor yet of time, full swift that fliea, 
 The tootli devour shall never ; 
 
 For stand shall this same monument, 
 Like rocks and mountains, ever. 
 
 This pakt of ice survive shall still, 
 
 And stay behind for aye ; 
 The other — Proserpine 1 ween 
 
 Right soon will drag away. 
 
 These are followed by a number of short 
 poems descriptive of sceneiy, a humorous ec- 
 logue, and a few songs. The topics are almost 
 entirely American, and drawn from the writer's 
 own observation. They are to be regarded as 
 the recreations of a youthful scholar, the light in 
 which their author held them ; as he before 
 his death contemplated their publication under 
 the title of the Prelusions of Ali, — an anagram- 
 matic transposition of his initials. 
 
 ODE TO CONNECTICUT P.TVEB. 
 
 On thy lov'd banks, sweet river, free 
 From worldly care and vanity, 
 I could my every hour confine, 
 And think true happiness was mine. 
 
 Sweet river, in thy gentle stream 
 Myriads of finny beings swim: 
 The watchful trout with speckled pride ; 
 The perch, the dace in silvered pride ; 
 The princely salmon, sturgeon brave, 
 And lamprey, emblem of the knave. 
 
 Beneath thy banks, thy shades among, 
 The muses, mistresses of song, 
 Delight to sit, to tune the lyre, 
 And fan the heav'n-descended fire. 
 
 Here nymphs dwell, fraught with every grace, 
 The faultless form, the sparkling face, 
 The generous breast, by virtue ibrm'd, 
 "With innocence, with friendship warni'd; 
 Of feelii g5 tender as the dove, 
 And yielding to the voice of love. 
 
 Happiest of all the happy swains 
 Are those who till thy fertile plains ; 
 With freedom, peace, and plenty crown'd, 
 They see the varying year go round. 
 
 But, more than all, there Fanny dwells, 
 For whom, departing from their cells, 
 The muses wreaths of laurel twine, 
 And bind around her brows divine ; 
 
 For whom the dryads of the woods, 
 For whom the nereidas of the floods, 
 Those as for Dian fam'd of old, 
 These as for Thetis reverence hold; 
 With whom, if I could live and die, 
 With joy I'd live, and die with joy, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tnne — "Social Fire." 
 Of Nancy's charms I fain would sing, 
 More lovely than the blooming spring, 
 
 The nymph of my desire, 
 Whom heaven grant to cheer my cot, 
 And make me bless my happy lot, 
 
 Around a social fire. 
 
 While others barter bliss for gain, 
 And wear a slavish golden chain, 
 
 To wealth I'll not aspire ; 
 I ask enough to live at ease, 
 To give the poor — my friends to please, 
 
 And keep a social fire. 
 
 When sets the sun in western sky, 
 How pleasing from the world to fly, 
 
 And to my cot retire ; 
 To find me there a cheerful wife, 
 And hear the children's playful strife, 
 
 Around the social fire. 
 • 
 Such joys as these he never knows, 
 Who leads a life of dull repose — 
 
 Joys that can never tire ; 
 Heaven grant me soon this blissful state, 
 Then will I hail my happy fate, 
 
 And bless my social fire. 
 
 DAETMOUTn COLLEGE. 
 
 TnE founder of this college was Dr. Eleazer 
 Wheelock, whose name it might more properly 
 bear than that of the English statesman which is 
 attached to it. The college grew out of an ear- 
 lier school, the history of which is peculiar. In 
 1743, when the B.ev. Mr. Wheelock, a native of 
 Windham, Connecticut, a descendant of an emi- 
 nent ecclesiastical family in New England, and a 
 distinguished student of Yale, where he had taken 
 the first Berkeley premium, had become settled as 
 a devoted minister in Lebanon, Ct, he took some 
 pupils under his charge according to the custom 
 of the times, among whom was the young Mohe- 
 gan Indian, Samson Occom. His success in the 
 education of this native scholar induced him to 
 form the plan of an Indian Missionary School, to 
 raise up Indian teachers. Other pupils from the 
 Delaware tribe came in. The attention of bene- 
 volent individuals was excited ; and in 1754, 
 Joshua Moor, a farmer in Maffick!, gave a house 
 and two acres of laud adjacent to Wheelock's resi- 
 dence for the purposes of the school, and the in- 
 stitution, which soon increased the number of its 
 pupils, became known as Moor's Indian Charity 
 School. Occom collected funds in England, which 
 were deposited with a board of trustees, of which 
 Lord Dartmouth, one of the subscribers, was Pre- 
 sident. The success of the school in the collec- 
 tion of pupils induced Dr. Wheelock to seek an- 
 other location nearer to the native tribes to bo 
 benefited. Various offers were made him of situa- 
 tions atAlbany, in Berkshire,Mass.,and elsewhere; 
 and it was finally determined to establish the 
 school in the western part of New Hampshire, 
 Governor Wentworth granted a charter in 1769. 
 
DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. 
 
 531 
 
 in which the institution was called a college. This 
 new organization led to opposition from the trus- 
 tees of the school fund ; but it was found that 
 the existence of the two could be kept distinct, 
 though they are now established under the direc- 
 tion of the same board of trustees. Lord Dart- 
 mouth gave name to the college to which, from 
 his interest in the school, he was opposed. Go- 
 vernor Wentworth was the warm friend of the 
 new college, which received grants of land, and was 
 located at Hanover near the Connecticut river. 
 
 Eleazer Wheelock. 
 
 In 1770, Dr. Wheelock, approaching the age of 
 sixty, left Lebanon, and commenced his new work 
 in the wilderness. His family and the students 
 at first lived in log huts on the clearing. The 
 Memoirs of Dr. Wheelock give an interesting j 
 sketch of the novelties of the college life. Upon 
 a circular area of six acres the pines were felled, and 
 in all directions covered the ground to the height 
 of about live feet. One of these was two hun- 
 dred and seventy feet in height. Paths of com- 
 munication were cut through them. The lofty 
 tops of the surrounding forests were often seen 
 bending before the northern tempest, while the 
 air below was still and piercing. The snow lay 
 four feet in depth between four and five months. 
 The sun was invisible by reason of the trees, un- 
 til risen many degrees above the horizon. In this 
 secluded retreat and in these humble dwellings, 
 this enterprising colon}' passed a long and dreary 
 winter. The students pursued their studies with 
 diligence ; contentment and peace were not inter- 
 rupted, even by nmrmurers.* A two-story col- 
 lege was erected, and in 1771 four students gra- 
 duated, one of whom was John Wheelock, son of 
 the first, and the future President of the College. 
 Another was Levi Frisbie, father of the poet, and 
 himself a writer of verses, in some of which he has 
 celebrated the peculiar circumstances in which his 
 Alma Mater was founded. 
 
 " Forlorn thus youtliful Dartmouth trembling stood, 
 
 Surrounded with inhospitable wood : 
 
 No silken furs on her soft limbs to spread, 
 
 No dome to screen her fair, defenceless head ; 
 
 Cn every side she cast her wishful eyes, 
 
 * Memoirs of the Eev. E'eazer Wheelock, Founder of Dart- 
 mouth, by M'GIure and Elijah Parish, 1S11. 
 
 Then humbly rnis'd them to the pitying skies. 
 Thence grace divine beheld her tender care, 
 And bowed an ear, propitious to her prayer. 
 Soon chang'd the scene ; the prospect shines more 
 
 fair ; 
 Joy lights all faces with a cheerful air; 
 The buildings rise, the work appears alive, 
 Pale fear expires, and languid hopes revive. 
 Calm solitude, to liberal science kind, 
 Sheds her soft influence on the studious mind; 
 Afflictions stand aloof; the heavenly powers 
 Drop needful blessings in abundant showers.* 
 
 After ten years' government of the college the 
 first president, Wheelock, died in 1779, aged 
 sixty-eight. He was succeeded in the college 
 government by his son John Wheelock, who Mas 
 educated at Hanover, one of the first fruits of the 
 college, and had been a tutor till the breaking out 
 of the Revolution, when he led an active military 
 life with Stark and Gates till his father's death 
 recalled him from the army. In 1782 he was 
 sent by the trustees to Europe for the collection 
 of funds and the promotion of the college inte- 
 rests, which had not escaped the depression of 
 the war. He carried with him letters from 
 Washington, who had known and esteemed him 
 as a Revolutionary officer, from the French Minis- 
 ter Luzerne to the Count de Vergennes. Arriv- 
 ing in France, Dr. Franklin and John Adams 
 gave him introductions to the Netherlands, where 
 a considerable sum of money was given by the 
 Prince of Orange and others. In England he ar- 
 ranged the interrupted funds of the school-foun- 
 dation, procured philosophical instruments and 
 other valuable donations, and on his return to 
 America, after suffering in a severe storm on the 
 banks of Newfoundland, was wrecked on Cape 
 Cod, barely escaping with life to the shore. The 
 college property coming afterwards was saved. 
 Dr. Wheelock's exertions were next directed to 
 the erection of a college edifice by the further 
 collection of funds and other co-operation, for 
 which the institution was greatly indebted to 
 him. He also discharged the duties of professor 
 of history. After thirty-six years' occupancy of 
 his position his connexion with the institution 
 was violently closed. 
 
 The college was managed by a bod}' of trus- 
 tees, created by the charter, who filled vacancies 
 in their number. In 1815 they drew attention 
 upon themselves by an act memorable not only 
 in its immediate but in its ultimate consequences, 
 as affecting the position of the college and de- 
 termining a great question of legal and consti- 
 tutional right. Differences in the college with 
 the trustees, and questions of religious opinion, 
 led them in that .year to remove Dr. Wheelock 
 from the presidency. A large portion of the 
 public affected to be outraged at the proceed- 
 ing. Governor William Plummer invited the 
 attention of the state legislature to the subject, 
 who, asserting their claim to alter or amend a 
 charter of which they were the guardians, in 
 
 * From a poem " On the Rise and Progress of Moor's Indian 
 Charity School (now incorporated with Dartmouth College ) its 
 removal and settlement in Hanover, and the founding a Church 
 in the same, by one of Dr. Wheelock's pupils, educated in said 
 school, and now a member of said college, preparing for a mis- 
 sion anions the Indians." It is printed in the notes to M'C'lnre 
 and Parish's Memoirs of Wheelock. 
 
532 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Dartmouth College. 
 
 1816 passed acts creating a new corporation. 
 Nine trustees to be appointed by the governor 
 and council, were added to the old body, the cor- 
 porate title changed to Dartmouth University, 
 and the property vested in the new board. The 
 old tru tees set all this legislation at naught, and 
 keeping up their organization commenced an ac- 
 tion for the recovery of the college property. It 
 was decided against them by Chief-Justice Rich- 
 ardson in the Superior Court of the state, and 
 thence carried to the Supreme Court of the Uni- 
 ted States before Chief-Justice Marshall, wherein 
 1819 the judgment was reversed, and the great 
 principle of the inviolability of chartered corpo- 
 rate property fully established. It was in this 
 cause that Daniel Webster, at the age of thirty- 
 five, made the commencement of his great repu- 
 tation as a constitutional lawyer.* He had be- 
 come a graduate of the college seventeen years 
 before, in 1801, and had argued the cause for 
 the plaintiffs in the highest state court. Mr. 
 Ticknor has described the effect of his argument 
 for the rights of the trustees and the college in 
 the Supreme Court: — " lie opened his cause with 
 perfect simplicity in the general statement of its 
 facts, and then went on to unfold the topics of his 
 argument in a lucid order, which made every posi- 
 tion sustain every other. The logic and the law 
 were rendered irresistible. As he advanced, his 
 heart warmed to the subject and the occa-ion. 
 Thoughts and feelings that had grown old with 
 his best affections rose unbidden to his lips. He 
 remembered that the institution he was defend- 
 ing was the one where his own youth had been 
 nurtured; and th 3 moral tenderness and beauty 
 this gave to the grandeur of his thoughts, the 
 sort of religious sensibility it imparted to his ur- 
 gent appeals and demands for the stern fulfilment 
 of what law and justice required, wrought up the 
 whole audience to an extraordinary state of ex- 
 citement.''t Joseph Hopkinson of Philadelphia, 
 who was engaged on the same side with him, 
 wrote to President Brown on the decision — " I 
 would advise you to inscribe over the door of 
 your institution, founded, by Eleazer Wlieeloch: 
 
 * Edward Everett's Biog. Memoir. Webster's Works, i. 
 ilviii. 
 
 t An article by George Ticknor, in the American Quarterly 
 Eeview for June, 1S81. 
 
 refounded by Daxiel Webster."* In this case 
 Webster was the associate of Jeremiah Smith and 
 Jeremiah Mason ; opposed to -John Holmes of 
 Maine, William Pinckney and AVilliam Wirt of 
 Maryland. 
 
 The local agitation which this interference with 
 the college excited was prodigious. Rival news- 
 papers waged furious war, the Dartmouth Ga- 
 zette and the Portsmouth Oracle in behalf of the 
 college, and the New Hampshire Patriot for the 
 popular opposition. I Religious and political an- 
 tipathies lent their aid to the controversy. In 
 the midst of the difficulties President Wheelock, 
 who had been restored by the new board of the 
 university, died within two months after that 
 event, in April, 1817, at the age of sixty-three. 
 
 In 1816, an important pamphlet, of which Dr. 
 Wheelock furnished the material, appeared, which 
 was an entrenched garrison of facts and state- 
 ments for the support of his friends and attacks of 
 his enemies. It was entitled, "Sketches of the 
 History of Dartmouth College and Moor's Chari- 
 ty School, with a particular account of some late 
 
 I remarkable proceedings of the Board of Trustees, 
 
 j from the year 1779 to the year 1815." It is 
 given by Allen, who married his daughter, as the 
 
 1 composition of Wheelock. J It is well written. 
 He also published a eulogy on Dr. Smith, the 
 classical professor of the College, and Allen tells 
 us that he prepared further a large historical 
 work, still remaining in manuscript. He was a 
 laborious student, rising early, and abstemious. 
 
 Francis Brown was the regular successor ap- 
 pointed b}' the Trustees on the removal of Whee- 
 lock in 1815. He was a native of New Hamp- 
 shire, born in 1784, a graduate of the College, 
 
 ; and subsequently pastor of the church in North 
 Yarmouth, Maine. Succeeding Wheelock in the 
 presidency of Dartmouth, he carried the College 
 by his exertions successfully through its difficult 
 period of conflict. His serious illness followed 
 close upon the decision of the important college 
 question. He travelled for his health, but shortly 
 returned to die at Hanover, July .27, 1820. He 
 
 ] left a few published discourses, among which were 
 
 S a defence of Calvin and an Address on Music, de- 
 livered before the Handel Society of Dartmouth 
 College in 1809. 
 
 Dr. Brown was succeeded by the Rev. Daniel 
 Dana, who retained the office but one year, when 
 the Rev. Bennet Tyler succeeded, and, upon his 
 resignation in 182S, the present incumbent, the 
 Rev. Nathan Lord, received the appointment. 
 
 The Triennial Catalogue of 1852, and the 
 Catalogue of Officers and Students for the Acade- 
 mical year 1854-5, exhibit the Institution in a 
 flourishing condition as to the extent of studies 
 
 I pursued, and the number of students availing 
 themselves of the .iberal advantages presented. 
 The College comprises a faculty of Arts and 
 Medicine, a separate course of Scientific Instruc- 
 
 * Life of President Brown, bv the T.ev. Henry Wood. Am. 
 Quar. Keg. vii. 183. 
 
 t History of New Hampshire, from its discovery in 1G14 to 
 the passage uf the Toleration Act in 1&19, by Georire Barstow. 
 2dcd. 1S58. 
 
 + Biog. Diet., article John Wheelock. Any one who wishes 
 
 ' to pursue this angry discussion may find abundant materials in 
 
 i a 'Candid Analytical Review of ihe Sketches," an answer, by 
 
 Josiah Dunham, to the. "Vindication'' of the Trustees, amorjg 
 
 the pamphlets of the times. 
 
SAMUEL LOW. 
 
 533 
 
 tion, while Moor's school, still remnins a distinct 
 and independent corporation, furnishing an Acade- 
 mical department. The Professorships of the 
 Greek and Latin Languages and Literature are 
 respectively held hy the Rev. John N. Putnam 
 and E. D. Sanborn. Lectures are delivered to 
 the Senior Class by the President, on the studies 
 of the year ; by Professor Ira Young on Natural 
 Philosophy and Astronomy to the Juniors, by 
 Professor Oliver Payson Hubbard, M.D., on Che- 
 mistry and Geology to the Seniors, and on Mi- 
 neralogy to the Juniors; by Professor Clement 
 Long, D.D., on Intellectual Philosophy to the 
 Senior-, by Professor Samuel Oilman Brown, D.D., 
 on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres to the Seniors and 
 Juniors, by Professor Edwin David Sanborn on 
 History to the Sophomores, by Professor Daniel 
 James Noy.es, D.D., on Theology and Moral Phi- 
 losophy to the Seniors and Juniors ; by Pro- 
 fessor E. D. Peaslee, M.D., on Anatomy and 
 Physiology to the Seniors. The Hon. Joel Parker 
 holds the chair of Medical Jurisprudence to the 
 Faculty. The Rev. Dr. Roswell Shurtleff, who 
 was Professor of Moral Philosophy from 1827 to 
 1838, has since that time reached Emeritus. 
 The Rev. Charles B. Haddock was Professor of 
 Rhetoric from 1819 to 1838, and afterwards of 
 Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy. 
 He lias since held a foreign appointment from 
 1851 to 1833, as Charge d' Affaires at Lisbon. 
 In 1840 he published a Collection of Addresses 
 and Miscellaneous Writings. Dr. Oliver Wendall 
 Holmes was Professor of Anatomy and Physiology 
 from 1838 to 1840. The Chandler Scientific 
 School was founded b} T a bequest of Abiel Chan- 
 dler, late of Walpole, N. II., and formerly of Bos- 
 ton, Mass., who gave fifty thousand dollars to be 
 invested, and the income applied to " the establish- 
 ment and support of a permanent department or 
 school of instruction in the College, in the prac- 
 tical and useful arts of life, comprised chiefly in 
 the branches of Mechanics and Civil Engineer- 
 ing, the Invention and Manufacture of Machinery, 
 Carpentry, Masonry, Architecture and Drawing, 
 the Investigation of the Properties and Uses of 
 the Materials employed in the Arts, the Modern 
 Languages and English Literature, together with 
 Book-keeping, and such other brandies of know- 
 ledge as may best qualify young persons for the 
 duties and employments of active life." These 
 studies are embraced in a regular course of three 
 years, and the scholars pursuing them are entitled 
 to a degree of Bachelor in Science. 
 
 The various libraries connected with the Col- 
 lege have an aggregate of more than thirty 
 thousand volumes. By the enumeration of the 
 Catalogue, it appears that the whole number of 
 the alumni in 1852 was 2,71!', of whom l,fi!>7 
 were then living. Six hundred and eight} -four 
 of these bad become Ministers of the Gospel. 
 
 SAMUEL LOW. 
 From the concluding couplet of one of the au- 
 thor's poem*, dated December 11, 1785 — 
 
 " Yes, twice ten years ago to-morrow night, 
 
 Began to breathe the rhyming, moon-struck wight " — 
 
 we may place the date of his birth December 12, 
 1705. 
 
 His poems were published, as usual, by sub- 
 scription, in two thin volume-, by T. & J.-Swords, 
 in 1800. They include, his preface informs us, 
 " nearly the whole of his poetic writings." The 
 
 
 * 
 
 y> 
 
 collection opens with an ode on the death of 
 General Washington, which was recited by Hodg- 
 kinson in the New York Theatre, January 8, 
 1800. It contains a number of other poems ad- 
 dressed to Washington, and several patriotic 
 effusions on the fourth of July and the adoption 
 of the constitution. Themes of a private and 
 familiar, as well as a public nature, attracted his 
 ready muse. "A Glass of Wine," and " A Cigar," 
 are honored like Anna, Portia, Fraternus, and 
 others, with a sonnet a-piece ; while the births, 
 marriages, and deaths of his family and friends 
 are commemorated more at length. A few hu- 
 morous trifles towards the close of the second 
 volume bear the title of "Juvenile Levities." 
 The most elaborate effort of the collection is a 
 descriptive poem of some length on Winter. The 
 picture of the cottage fireside is pleasing. 
 
 TIIE WINTER FIRESIDE. 
 
 While uproar now incessant reigns without, 
 While Winter pours his ruffian blasts about, 
 Columbia's peasants trim their ample fires, 
 And through their dwellings genial heat transpires; 
 In yonder cot, whence smoky columns rise, 
 The rustic group, secure from stormy skies, 
 Their ev'ning hours in tranquil ease employ, 
 And rural pastime 'wakes their souls to joy; 
 A social crescent round the fire they form, 
 Whose vivid blaze at once can cheer and warm ; 
 Beneficence and simple truth are there, 
 And there content and innocence repair; 
 The surly mastiff" by his master stands, 
 And wistful begs a morsel at his hands ; 
 Around the room her tricks grimalkin tries; 
 The crackling faggot up the chimney flies; 
 The cricket chirrups blithesome in the hearth, 
 And all conspire to heighten harmless mirth, 
 The roof, that pond'rous heaps of snow sustains, 
 Now loudly cracking, of the storm complains: 
 They hear the tempest rage, but reckless hear ; 
 Its piercing blast they neither feel nor fear ; 
 la words uncouth they tell their rustic tales, 
 Soon o'er the list'ning throng the charm prevails ; 
 Of goblins dire some talk, while others hear 
 With woud'ring approbation, mix'd with fear ; 
 Imagination's terrors o'er them creep, 
 And banish from their eyes encroaching sleep : 
 In social converse fleet their winter nights, 
 Or the brisk dance, or jocund song delights ; 
 Columbia's rural daughters join the strain, 
 Or lead the dance, with each her fav'rite swain ; 
 The quaint old ballad prompts some son'rous voice, 
 While sires and matrons silently rejoice : 
 Or if some wit or humorist be there, 
 Or Humor's murderer, or Wit's despair, 
 A elam'rous laugh applauds his poor pretence ; 
 Grimace is humor there, and triteness sense. 
 By Science uninform'd, and unrefin'd 
 By aught of taste that guides the cultured mind, 
 The mimic's Proteus power, that can adapt 
 
534 
 
 CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Itself to all things, with resemblance apt ; 
 
 The sprightly jest ; the applicable thought ; 
 
 And irony, with hidden satire fraught ; 
 
 The ludicrous burlesque that laughter moves ; 
 
 The attic flash of wit that genius loves ; 
 
 The ready repartee; the well-timed pun ; — 
 
 All these their feelings and their sense outrun : 
 
 Such brilliant sallies have no power to please, 
 
 Perceptions unappropriate to these ; 
 
 But, tho' their faculties 'gainst these rebel, 
 
 The coarse attempt at wit they relish well ; 
 
 The common-place remark, and vulgar joke, 
 
 Delight them more than if a Garrick spoke : 
 
 In such rude ignorance perhaps more blest 
 
 Than if fastidious taste their minds possess'd ; 
 
 They know not what the critic's raptures mean, 
 
 But neither do they know the critic's spleen; 
 
 Disgust, and pride, and envy gnaw his breast, 
 
 But they, at least, are negatively blest ; 
 
 For apathy, stupidity, and phlegm, 
 
 And sensual good, are happiness to them ; 
 
 "With daily toil and nightly e:> e content, 
 
 Thus Winter glides, aad thus their lives are spent. 
 
 OK A SPRING OF WATER IS KINGS COUNTY, LONG ISLAND. 
 
 "When parch'd by thirst, and faint with heat, 
 
 I make this fav'rite spot my seat, 
 
 And see, beneath the willow's shade, 
 
 This limpid spring, this sweet cascade, 
 
 "Which through a million pores of earth 
 
 Refines and filtrates ere its birth, 
 
 In gentle currents pour along, 
 
 The green and flow'ry meads among ; 
 
 And carry my delighted gaze 
 
 Where'er its course meand'ring strays, 
 
 And see it kissing, as it flows, 
 
 Each shrub that here luxuriant grows. 
 
 Each od'rous plant of varied green, — 
 
 0. how delicious is the scene ! 
 
 When o'er the fount I eager bend, 
 
 And hear the gurgling sound ascend, ■ 
 
 And see the pearly globules rise, 
 
 My ears are charm'd, regal'd mine eyes; 
 
 But when, my burning thirst to slake, 
 
 I Nature's wholesome bev'rage take, 
 
 Far more refreshing is the draught 
 
 Than that by Bacchanalians quaff 'd: 
 
 No liquid fire, of man the bane, 
 
 That yields us joy which ends in pain, 
 
 Can thus revive and charm each sense, 
 
 Or such salubrious gifts dispense : 
 
 Not juice from luscious grapes expressed 
 
 Can yield so sweet, so pure a zest ; 
 
 For, though the rich potation please, 
 
 It prostrates mind, and sows disease. 
 
 Then shun, oh, man ! the specious' good, 
 
 Dash from your lips the purple flood, 
 
 Nor let its fires inflame your blood ; 
 
 Escape from such fallacious joys, 
 
 From frantic mirth and brutal noise ; 
 
 From Circe's incantations flee, 
 
 And taste unmix'd delight with me;* 
 
 Here draw supplies of strength for age. 
 
 And here your fev'rish thirst assuage. 
 
 Like Kais* were you doom'd to roam 
 Far, far from Leila and your home ; 
 (Arabia's Nightingale was he, 
 His incense-breathing Rose was she.) 
 Ah ! if like him in desert lands, 
 You trod forlorn on burning sands, 
 And breath'd Arabia's torrid air, 
 And found nor shade nor fountain there ; 
 
 * See D'lsraeli's romance of Mejnoun and Leila. 
 
 Your wasting frame with fever fir'd, 
 Increas'd by ev'ry breath respir'd; 
 O'er your scorch'd head a brazen sky ; 
 Around no spot to bless your eye 
 "With verdure cooling shade or stream, 
 (Obnoxious to the solar beam) 
 Your arid tongue consum'd by thirst, 
 Your heart by hopeless love necurs'd, — 
 How would you pant, and long, and mourn 
 For this sweet Spring which now j'ou scorn I 
 
 But should benignant Genii bear, 
 From sandy wastes, and stagnant air, 
 Your haggard form, by Famine worn, 
 "Which heat hath blasted, flints have torn, 
 To this blest spot, where Phoebus' beam 
 Nor shrivels plants nor dries the stream ; 
 If, by a miracle, convey'd 
 Beneath this lovely willow's shade, 
 You heard this rill, — romantic sound 1 
 In soothing murmurs purl around; 
 And look'd and gaz'd with raptur'd eyes 
 On all t'ii.gs cir led by 'he skies ■ 
 And felt what cooling influence brings 
 The zephyr on its balmy wings; 
 And what refrigerating power 
 Is in the soft, pellucid shower, 
 "Which falls so sweetly, gently here. 
 That ev'n the sight can cool and cheer, — 
 O ! what a Paradise of bliss 
 A scene delectable like this 
 Would open to the ravish'd view 
 Of such a dying wretch as you ! 
 'Twould all your languid powers revive, 
 And bid exhausted Nature live ! 
 
 Beneath a scorching vertie sun, 
 A fearful distance still to run, 
 What would the harass' d seaman give, 
 Could he to such a spot arrive ! 
 Oft does the famish' d suff' rer dream 
 Of such a spot, with such a stream ; 
 And oft the draught which he- desires 
 From his unsated lip retires ; 
 He 'wakes to longings more intense, 
 His veins are fir'd, disturb'd his sense ; 
 He 'wakes to fev'rish thirst a prey, 
 And joyless ploughs the briny way. 
 
 Marcissa, innocent as fair, 
 Of this translucent Spring beware ; 
 For when, your ardent thirst to slake, 
 You stoop the temp'rate draught to take, 
 This mirror may attract desire, 
 And water may engender fire ; 
 For in that mirror you may view 
 A form as beautiful as you ; 
 That form, already passing fair, 
 Will shine with added beauty there; 
 In it the clear cerulean sky 
 With brighter azure charms the eye, 
 And the light fleece which floats in air, 
 Is lovelier when reflected there : 
 Then lest (like erst an am'rous swain) 
 You love your beauteous self in vain, 
 And for that lovely image sigh 
 "Which in the crystal fount you spy, 
 Admire not those reflected charms, 
 Nor vainly strive to fill your arms 
 "With the fair shadow you would miss, 
 But seek for safer, purer bliss ; 
 Less fleeting, more attractive too, — ■ 
 Admire the mind which dwells in you. 
 
 JOHN S. J. GARDINER. 
 
 John Sylvester Jonx Gardiner, tho Rector of 
 Trinity Church in Boston, the author of nume- 
 
JOHN SYLVESTER JOHN GARDINER 
 
 535 
 
 rous published discourses, and the imputed writer 
 of the political-poetical tract of the Jacobiniad, 
 was born of American parentage in South Wales, at 
 Haverford West, in 1765. His father, John Gardi- 
 ner, the son of Dr. Sylvester Gardiner, was a native 
 of Boston, who waj sent to be educated in England, 
 and who studied law at the Temple. In London 
 he became the intimate of Churchill the satirist, 
 and the acquaintance of Lord Mansfield. His 
 participation in the liberal measures of the day 
 as junior counsel in the Wilkes ease, marked his 
 future political principles. Having married in 
 Wales, he left Great Britain in 1766, with the 
 appointment of attorney-general to the island of 
 St. Christopher, remaining in the West Indies 
 till after the Revolution, when, in 1783, he removed 
 to Boston. Hedelivered a Fourth of July Oration 
 in 1785 for the town authorities of Boston. He 
 next settled at Pownalboro, in Maine, whence he 
 was sent to the Legislature of Massachusetts. 
 
 In 1702, he delivered a speech in the Massa- 
 chusetts House of Representatives, on the subject 
 of the Report of the Committee appointed to con- 
 sider the Expediency of repealing the law against 
 Theatrical Exhibitions within this Common- 
 wealth, in which he maintained with spirit, good 
 humor, and a considerable array of learning, the 
 rights of the stage. He was assisted in his read- 
 ing on the subject by Thaddeus Mason Harris 
 and others, and his numerous quotations extend 
 over Greek and Roman literature as well as the 
 recent English poetry. A pa-sage will show the 
 ardor with which he entered upon the matter. 
 
 "The illiberal, unmanly, and despotic act, which 
 now prohibits theatrical exhibitions among us, to me, 
 sir, appears to be the brutal, monstrous spawn of a 
 sour, morose, malignant, and truly benighted super- 
 stition, which, with her impenetrable fogs, hath but 
 too long begloomed and disgraced this rising coun- 
 try ! — a country by nature intended for the produc- 
 tion and cultivation of sound reason, and of an 
 enlightened, manly freedom ! From the same 
 detestable, canting, hypoeritic spirit was generated 
 that abominable Hutchinsonian warden act, which 
 hath twice, in my time, been reprobated by the 
 House of Representatives, who passed two several 
 bills for its repeal; although, it seems, it could not 
 be given up by certain Simon Pures, the sanctified 
 zealots of former senates. It is to be lamented that 
 this hypoeritic, unconstitutional act is still permit- 
 ted to disgrace our statute book ; while every man 
 who has duly investigated the sacred principles 
 of civil liberty contemns, and, with the enlightened 
 town of Boston, abhors, and pays not the smallest 
 respect, the least attention, to tins abominable 
 impotent act. Notwithstanding Boston annually 
 refuses to choose the tyrannical wardens, I would 
 ask, where, under the sun, are there on the Sabbath 
 day, a more decent, orderly people than the inhabit- 
 ants of this great commercial sea-faring town, who 
 thus continue to treat with due contempt that 
 hypoeritic nefaiious act."*' 
 
 * The law dated from 'he year 1750. Gardiner, assisted by 
 Dr. Jarvis, to whom he gave the epithet of "the towering 
 Bald Eagle of the Boston seat," was unsuccessful in his advo- 
 cacy of the petition. T*'e law remained in force. Samuel 
 Adams and Benjamin Austin opposed the repeal. The latter, 
 says Dnnlap. quoting Dramatic Reminiscences in the New 
 England Magazine, wrote a series of essays to prove that 
 Shakespeare had no genius. William TndOT and Charles 
 Jarvis supported stage exhibitions. In 1792. the matter was 
 circumvented by an exhibition room which introdueed the 
 lower ra k of theatrical performances. The next year the law 
 was repealed. — Duulap's Am. Theatre, ch. xj. 
 
 To this speech was appended " A Dissertation 
 on the Ancient Poetry of the Romans; with 
 Incidental Observations on certain Superstitions," 
 dec. 
 
 Gardiner was drowned off Cape Ann, in a 
 storm, Oct. 1793, when he was on his way to 
 the General Court of Massachusetts, leaving the 
 reputation of a man of energy as a politician and 
 speaker. 
 
 His son had been taken in his childhood to 
 Boston for education. On the breaking out of 
 the Revolution lie returned to his father in the 
 West Indies, and was sent at the age of eleven to 
 England, where he passed six years under the 
 instruction of Dr. Parr. He rejoined his father, 
 and shortly proceeded with him to Boston. At 
 first he directed his attention to the law, but soon 
 attached himself to divinity, receiving his ordina- 
 tion in 1787 from Bishop Provoost at New York. 
 He began preaching at Beaufort, S. C. In 1792 
 he was appointed assistant minister of Trinity 
 Church on the Greene foundation, and in 1805, on 
 the death of Bishop Parker, became Rector, — 
 relinquishing at this time the charge of a gram- 
 mar-school which he had conducted on an exact 
 and critical model in the studies of Latin and 
 Greek, in which he was a proficient. 
 
 His religious tenets thus differed from those of 
 his father, who had been instrumental in effecting 
 the change of the English liturgy in the Book of 
 Common Prayer in King's Chapel, by omitting the 
 allusions to the Trinity. Dr. Gardiner, the divina 
 was a staunch advocate of Episcopacy, and a zeal- 
 ous Federalist, warm in his attachment to England. 
 His numerous published Discourses always fur- 
 nish indications of his acumen, extensive reading, 
 and independent judgment. He was a good 
 hater of the French school of politicians of his 
 day, of which proof may be found in his dis- 
 courses as well as in the satire of the Jacobiniad. 
 The latter was communicated in a series of num- 
 bers to the Federal Orrery. Under cover of a 
 review of a pretended poem, " The Jacobiniad," of 
 which extracts were furnished, the liberal clubs 
 of Boston, with their members, were sharply 
 satirized. The papers were afterwards collected 
 together and published with several vigorous 
 etchings of spirit — probably the best things of 
 the kind which had then appeared in the country.* 
 
 In a Fast Day Sermon at Trinity Church, in 
 1808, Gardiner thus expressed his view of the 
 relations of the country towards France and 
 England. 
 
 Though submissive and even servile to France, to 
 Great. Britain we are eager to display our hatred 
 and hurl our defiance. The American eagle, though 
 meek as a dove before the Gallic cock, yet to the 
 British lion will present the "terrors of his beak, 
 the lightnings of his eye," and the strength of bis 
 
 * Remarks on the Jacobiniad : revised and corrected by the 
 author ; and embellished with caricatures. Part First. 
 Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill : — 
 Well may they tremble, when she draw* lie;- qui'l; 
 Her magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's spear, 
 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthened ear; 
 Gives fools and demagogues their natural shapes; 
 Makes Austins crocodiles — and Vinals, rpes; 
 Drass the vile Clubbist from his dark abode, 
 Tilfall the demon starts up from the toad. 
 Printed at Eoston, by E. W. Weld and W. Grccnough, 1795. 
 8vo. pp. 54 
 
y?,e 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 talons. Every petty dispute which may happen 
 between an American captain and a British officer 
 is magnified into a national insult. The land of our 
 fathers, whence is derived the best blood of the na- 
 tion, the country to which, we are chiefly indebted 
 for our laws and knowledge, is stigmatized as a 
 nest of pirates, plunderers, and assassins. We 
 entice away her seamen, the very sinews of her 
 power; we refuse to restore them on applica- 
 tion; we issue hostile proclamations; we inter- 
 dict her ships of war from the common rites of hos- 
 pitality ; we pass non-importation acts ; we lay 
 embai goes ; we refuse to ratify a treaty in which 
 she had made great concessions to us ; we dismiss 
 her envoy of peace, who came purposely to apolo- 
 gize for an act unauthorized by her government ; 
 we commit every act of hostility against her pro- 
 portioned to our means and situation. Observe the 
 contrast between the two nations, and our strange 
 conduct. France robs us, and we love her ; Britain 
 courts us, and we hate her. France is hostile, Bri- 
 tain friendly. 'With France we have a treaty, with 
 Britain none. France is fighting for the subjugation 
 of the world, Britain for its independence, France 
 is contending for her own aggrandizement, Britain 
 for her salvation. If France is victorious we are 
 slaves ; if Britain proves victorious we remain free. 
 France is a land of slaver}' ; Britain of freedom. 
 The insults and injuries we receive from France are 
 unpardonable, and the immediate acts of her go- 
 vernment ; the insults and injuries we receive from 
 Britain are not authorized by her government, and 
 ore often provoked by the rudeness and ill-manners 
 of our own people. France makes actual war upon 
 us, and yet we court her. We make actual war on 
 Britain, and yet she tries every expedient to conci- 
 liate us. 
 
 He took a similar view of the distrust of Eng- 
 land on another Fast Day Sermon in 1810. 
 
 Of his Church views an idea may be gathered 
 from a sermon which he delivered in behalf of a 
 Prayer-Book Society, at Trinity Church, in 1S1G. 
 
 Even the Church of Scotland, before the Reforma- 
 tion the most bigoted of all Christian societies, used 
 a form of prayer; nor was it laid aside till Knox 
 and other reformers, as they pleased to call them- 
 selves, began to persecute those who dissented from 
 them, and levelled or disfigured the finest churches 
 of the north. Their hatred to the Catholic religion 
 was so violent that they determined to retain no- 
 thing that in the smallest degree resembled it; to 
 discard equally what was blameable and what was 
 excellent ; and among other things, to annihilate 
 forms of prayer, and to address the Deity in their 
 own indecent and extemporaneous effusions. Poli- 
 tical prejudices against England cooperated with 
 their b : gotry, and Scotland was covered with con- 
 venticles, in which were delivered extempore ha- 
 rangues, that contained a strange mixture of poli- 
 tics and theology. Their polities inculcated rebel- 
 lion, and their theology clothed God with the attri- 
 butes of the Devil. It is, however, but candid to 
 remark, that these follies and blasphemies gradually 
 ceased ; and at the present day the Scottish church 
 is eminently distinguished for rational piety, libe- 
 rality of sentiment, and extent of learning. It has 
 not, however, resumed a form of prayer, but still 
 retains the custom of extemporary addresses, which 
 began in enthusiasm and has been preserved by 
 prejudice. It is, indeed, wonderful, that men of 
 sense and candor will not adopt a form of prayer, 
 the superiority of which the liberal and enlight- 
 ened are ever ready to acknowledge. Its advan- 
 
 tages are numerous and striking; it promotes, in" 
 a high degree, the honor of Almighty God ; it is 
 more expressive of reverence, and devotion, it 
 preserves an impressive solemnity and decorum; it 
 is at once dignified and simple: in a word, it as far 
 surpasses extemporary prayer as the sober dignity 
 and chaste eloquence of the learned divine excels 
 the indecent freaks and senseless rant of the itine- 
 rant and unlettered enthusiast. 
 
 His occasional discourses, as his sermon before 
 the Mass. Humane Society, and his address before 
 the members of the Mass. Charitable Fire Soci- 
 ety, in 1803, with his sermon before the mem- 
 bers of the Boston Female Asylum, in 1809, 
 show a similar energy and freedom of style. In 
 the last he urges a profounder systerh of female 
 education. " There must be something wrong," he 
 says," in the present system of female education. 
 It is far too superficial. It is almost exclusively 
 directed to the improvement of the person and 
 address. I should wish for something more 
 substantial. * * * Only lay a solid foundation, 
 and you may raise on it a superstructure as airy 
 and fantastical as yon please." He commends 
 the Latin grammar as " the shortest road to the 
 knowledge of universal grammar and to the at- 
 tainment of every modern language." 
 
 There is a story told of Gardiner on the break- 
 ing out of the war with England, to which he 
 was violently opposed, having taken for his text, 
 in allusion to Madison, a portion of the sentence 
 of Mark x. 41 : They began to be much displeased 
 icith James* 
 
 Gardiner was one of the original founders of 
 the Boston Alhcnwum, and a frequent contributor 
 to the Monthly Anthology. 
 
 Of Gardiner's poetic talent there is an instance 
 preserved by Mr. Loring, in the verses sung in 
 King's Chapel, July 6, 1808, after the delivery of 
 the Eulogy of Samuel Dexter, over the remains 
 of Fisher Ames. 
 
 As, when dark clouds obscure the dawn, 
 
 The day-star's lustre disappears, 
 So Ames beheld our natal morn, 
 
 And left desponding friends in tears. 
 
 Soon as the distant cannon's roar, 
 
 Announced that morn's returning ray, 
 
 * Gardiner, like his father, had a sympathy for the stage, if we 
 may attach any importance to an anecdote related in Dunlap's 
 Life of George Frederick Cooke. The clergyman went to fee 
 the actor perform, and the great tragedian, nattered with the 
 attention, thought it necessary to return the compliment by 
 going to hear the divine preach. Cooke was not exactly in 
 condition for religious services, but he went. " He had," says 
 Dunlap, '' at the previous dinner-party, made an engagement 
 with Mr. Bernard to go and hear Mr. Gardiner preach. "and he 
 most heroically kept to the intention. He got np, not very 
 different in bodily estate from what he was when he was 
 tumbled into bed, except with better command of limb. 
 While sitting under the hands of his hairdresser, Mr. Price 
 came in. "What! up already!'' "Do you know. Price, 
 I am going to church!" "To church:" " Yes, I am going 
 to hear Parson Gardiner. He's the only one of thorn that 
 has done me the honor to come and see the play, and I'll do 
 him the honor of going to hear him preach. Sam, give me 
 some hot brandy toddy." The hairdresser and honest Sam, 
 having performed their respective offices, and a large glass of 
 stiff brandy toddy having been swallowed as a restorative, he 
 attended upon his friend Bernard, as gay as one-and-twenty, 
 to Mr. Gardiner's church. Here. Mr. Cooke, notwithstanding 
 the preacher's eloquence and his own efforts to the contrary, 
 fell asleep, to the no little annoyance of his companion, and 
 the amusement of those near him. and awoke in time to 
 walk very decently out of the church, with the rest of the con- 
 gregation. — Irtmldp's Life of Cooler ch. xxvii. 
 
WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
 
 He fear'd its early hopes were o'er, 
 And flew to everlasting day. 
 
 drop thy mantle, sainted shade, 
 
 On some surviving patriot name, 
 Who, great by thy example made, 
 
 May yet retrieve a nation's fame ! 
 
 The manly genius, ardent thought, 
 
 The love of truth and wit refined. 
 The eloquence that wonders wrought, 
 
 And flash'd its light on every mind. 
 These gifts were thine, immortal Ames! 
 
 Of motive pure, of life sublime ; 
 Their loss our flowing sorrow claims, — 
 
 Their praise survives the wreck of time. 
 
 Dr. Gardiner died at Harrowgate, England, on 
 a tour for his health, July 29, 1830, at the age of 
 sixty-five.* 
 
 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
 The father of William Dunlap was an Irishman, 
 and came to this country as an officer in the Eng- 
 lish army sent out to attack Quebec. He was 
 wounded in the memorable engagement, and after 
 the war resigned his commission and settled in 
 Perth Amboy, New Jersey, where his only son 
 was born, February 19, 1766. The child's earli- 
 est instructor was a benevolent old bachelor by 
 the name of Thomas Bartow, who lived in a 
 pleasant cottage surrounded on three sides by a 
 garden filled with choice fruits, and well stocked 
 within with books and print-:, to all which the kind 
 old gentleman allowed his boy-friend free access, 
 taking great delight in teaching him the story of 
 the Iliad, HJneid, and Paradise Lost, by the pic- 
 tures in the old editions of Pope, Dryden, and 
 Milton. This pleasant intercourse was broken up 
 by no lessan event than the American Revolution; 
 the quiet old gentleman, a Royalist, retiring in- 
 land to Bethlehem, Pa., when the British men-of- 
 war made their appearance in New York bay at 
 the outset of the contest. After the landing of 
 the British on Staten Island, the Dunlap family 
 removed to the village of Piscatawa on the Rari- 
 tan, where they remained from 1775 to 1777, the 
 father siding with the Royalists. In 1777, they 
 removed to New York, and William was sent to 
 school. In June, 1778, when on a visit to Mr. 
 Elliott's country seat, afterwards the original 
 Sailor's Snug Harbor, " while playing with the 
 boys after dinner, he was struck by a bit of wood 
 and deprived of his right eye. The medical treat- 
 ment which ensued put a stop to any further re- 
 gular schooling. When after several months he 
 was allowed to use his remaining eye, he devoted 
 himself to drawing, to which he had early mani- 
 fested an inclination. In 1784, he was sent to 
 London to study under West, where he remained 
 about three years, passing most of the time, as he 
 candidly confesses, " in unprofitable idleness." In 
 1786, he made a pedestrian tour with Dr. Samuel 
 L. Mitcliill, who had just received his diploma at 
 Edinburgh, to Oxford. On his return, be settled 
 in New York ; married Elizabeth, daughter of 
 Benjamin Woolsey; and wrote a play which was j 
 accepted by the managers of the American Com- I 
 
 *Lorina's Boston Orators, iri8-72, 203. Buckingham's 
 Newspaper Reminiscences, ii. 223. Qnincy's History of the 
 Boston Athenu?um, and Memoir oi" Gardiner. 
 
 pany, Hallam and Henry, but owing to green- 
 room difficulties in the distribution of the parts 
 its oft postponed production never took place. 
 While the matter was in suspense, he wrote a se- 
 cond five act comedy, entitled The Father, in 
 which he was fortunate enough to "fit" the lead- 
 ing actors with parts, and the piece was brought 
 out September 7th, 1789. 
 
 The Father, afterwards published with the title 
 of The Father of an Only Child, is the best of 
 Dunlap's plays. The piece is of the sentimental 
 school, and the humor closely resembles that of 
 the productions of Oohnan the younger, and Mor- 
 ton. It was, however, written before the produc- 
 tions of these dramatists ; and the author seems 
 entitled to the originality he claims for his Tattle, 
 a rattling gossip who will bear a not unfavorable 
 comparison with his brother practitioner, Ollapod. 
 The scenes in which he is introduced are excellent. 
 We give a portion. 
 
 SCENE FROM THE COMEDY, " TIIE FATHER OF AN ONLT CniLD." 
 
 Present, liuspoti, Racket, Tattle, Mrs. Backet. 
 Enter Tattle. 
 
 Tat. Oh Racket, my dear fellow, how d'ye do ? 
 
 Rack, (asid) Ho, another infernal coxcomb! 
 
 Tat. What's the matter? You don't seem well 
 How d'ye do, ma'am? (To Rusport) Your servant, 
 sir. Racket, you have not introduced me to this gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Rack. Captain Rusport, this is my friend, doctor 
 Tittle. 
 
 Tat. Yes, sir. Tattle ; Terebrate Tattle, M.D. 
 
 Rack. Doctor, this is captain Rusport, just arrived 
 in the last packet from Halifax. 
 
 Tat. How d'ye do, sir ? I'm very glad to see you 
 indeed. Very fine potatoes in Halifax. Racket! 
 this way. Here. Just come from abroad! You'll 
 recommend me. 
 
 Rack. If he should want a physician, I certainly 
 
 will (half aside) in the full hope that you will 
 
 poison him. 
 
 Tat. Thank you; thank you. Servant, ma'am. 
 Fine weather, ha? A little rainy, but that's good 
 
538 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 for the country. (To Rusport) A fine season for 
 coughs and colds, sir. O Racket! my dear fellow, 
 I had forgot that I heard of your accideut. No great 
 harm done, I perceive. What a tremendous fall 
 you must have had ! Precipitated from the scaffold- 
 ing of a three story house, and brought with your 
 os parietale in contact with the pavement, while 
 your heels were suspended ill the air, by being en- 
 tangled in a mason's ladder. 
 
 Rack. Pooh, Pooh ! I tumbled from a cow's back, 
 and broke my nose. 
 
 Tat. Is that all? Why, I heard So, so, only 
 
 a contusion on the pons ?iasi. Ay, ay. I was called 
 up to a curious ease last evening. 
 
 Rack. Then I'm off. ( While Tattle is speaking, 
 Racket goes out ; and Rusport and Mrs. Racket re- 
 tire behind, laughing.) 
 
 Tat. Very curious case indeed. I had just finish- 
 ed my studies for the evening, smoked out my last 
 cigar, and got comfortably in bed. Pretty late. Very 
 dark. Monstrous dark. Cursed cold. Monstrous 
 cold, indeed, for the season. Very often the case 
 with us of the faeult}'. Called up at all times and 
 seasons. Used to be so when I was a student in Pa- 
 ris. Called up one night to a dancing-master, who 
 had his skull most elegantly fractured, his leg most 
 beautifully broke, and the finest dislocation of the 
 shoulder I ever witnessed. I soon put the shoulder 
 in sfate to draw the bow again, and his leg to caper 
 to the tune of it. As for the head, you know a 
 dancing-master's head, ma'am, (looking round) head 
 — head — Oh! there you are, are you? I beg your 
 pardon, I declare I thought you were by me. So 
 you see, madam, as I was saying, I was called up last 
 
 night to witness the most curious case (follows 
 
 them, talking) The bone of the right thigh ■ 
 
 Re-enter Racket. 
 
 Rack. So, the doctor is at it still. 
 
 Tat. I'm glad you've come to hear it, Racket. The 
 bone of the right thigh — (Racket turns aicay) — The 
 bone of the right thigh, ma'arn — (she turns off) — 
 The bone of the right thigh, captaii. 
 
 Rusp. Ay, you must have gained great credit by 
 that cure, doctor. 
 
 Tat. Sir! What? 0, you mean the dancing- 
 master ! I can assure you, sir, I am sought for. I 
 have a pretty practice, considering the partiality 
 the people of this country have to old women's pre- 
 scriptions: hoar-hound, cabbage-leaves, robin-run- 
 away, dandy-grey-russet, and the like. A young 
 man of ever so liberal and scientific an education 
 can scarcely make himself known. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. But you have made yourself known, 
 doctor. 
 
 Tat. Why yes, ma'am. I found there were but 
 two methods of establishing a reputation, made use 
 of by our physicians; so, for fear of taking the 
 wrong, I took both. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. And what are they, doctor? 
 
 Tat. Writing for the newspapers, or challenging 
 and caning all the rest of the faculty. 
 
 Rack. These are methods of attaining notoriety. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. And notoriety, let me tell you, is often 
 the passport to wealth. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Rusp. Ha, ha ha! He is a queerity, by all that's 
 quizzish ! 
 
 Rack. He is an insufferable bore. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. O no. I think he's very amusing, 
 now and then. 
 
 Rusp. He is a traveller, I think you say. 
 
 Rack. He has traversed France, Italy, and Ger- 
 many in pursuit of science. 
 
 3frs. Rack. But Science travelled faster than he 
 
 did, and cruelly eluded hi3 pursuit. Poor doctor I 
 The few ideas he has are always travelling post, and 
 generally upon cross roads. His head is like New 
 York on May-day, all the furniture wandering. 
 
 Re-enter Tattle. 
 
 Tat. Racket, I forgot to tell you 
 
 Mrs. Rack. Could not you find my sister? 
 
 Tat. I want to tell you, madam, of a monstrous 
 mollification 
 
 Rack. Pooh, pooh! Nonsense! Is Caroline at 
 home ? 
 
 Tat. Who ? ! ah !— I had forgot. I don't know. 
 I'll tell you — I had ascended about half, perhaps two 
 thirds of the stair-case — ease — Did I tell you of the 
 case of the 
 
 Rack. Kay, stick to the stair-case. 
 
 Tat. No. I must descend. I happened to think, 
 without any apparent train of associated ideas lead- 
 ing to the thought, of an affair that happened last 
 night — nay you must listen — it's worth hearing. It's 
 quite likely that 1 told you some time ago of my 
 having emploj-ed a professor of the mechanical part 
 of painting to delineate my name upon ablack board 
 to put over my door. By the bye, it's a very mis- 
 taken notion, that the effluvia arising from the pig- 
 ments used in this branch of painting 
 
 Rack. Nay, nay, the sign. It was painted and put 
 over your door. 
 
 Tat. And looked very well too, didn't it ? Very 
 well, I'll assure you, captain. Terebrate Tattle, M. D. 
 Large gold characters; well and legibly designated. 
 This striking the organ of vision, or rather being im- 
 pressed on the retina in an inverted position, like the 
 figures in a camera obscura, and thence conveyed to 
 the mind, denoted 1113* place of residence. An inge- 
 nious device, and it answered my purpose. I got a 
 case of polypusses by it immediately. 
 
 Rusp. Pray, sir, what kind of instruments are they? 
 
 Tat. Nay, sir, polypusses are 
 
 Rack. Kay, but, doctor, the sign. 
 
 Tat. Ay. Right ! good ! So, sir, it was displayed, 
 to the ornament of the street, and the edification of 
 the passengers. Well, sir, last night, — last night, sir, 
 somebody or other took it down, — took it down, 
 sir, and nailed it over a duck-coop. " Terebrate Tat- 
 tle," say the gold letters ; " Quack, quack, quack," 
 say the ducks. 'Twas illiberal, cursed illiberal ! — 
 What a beautiful fracture of the os femoris I saw 
 
 this morning ! The upper portion of the bone 
 
 ******** 
 
 Re-enter Tattle. 
 
 Tat. So. Racket, as I was saying 
 
 Rack, (disengaging himself) Infernal puppy ! 
 
 Tat. The upper portion of the bone being very 
 much shattered, I had recourse to- 
 
 Rack. Excuse me. [Exit. 
 
 Tat. So, miss Susannah, the os femoris — the upper 
 portion of the os femoris. 
 
 Sus. None of sich names to me, Mr. Doctor I I 
 don't understand being called names, so I don't. Ox 
 feminine and feminine ox! You think I don't know 
 your meaning! It shows your breeding, so it does. 
 Feminine ox! La souls! [Exit. 
 
 Tat. Astonishing ignorance! Now she under- 
 stands no more of anatomy than I do of making a 
 custard. And these people will not be taught. You 
 might as well attempt to pour ipecacuanha down 
 their throats, as science into their ears. Well, I'll 
 publish this case of the fractured os femoris. If no- 
 body will hear it, perhaps somebody will rend it; 
 and there is much magic in print. Curious art. 
 Yes, I'll send it to the editor of the American Maga- 
 zine, and at least he and his printers must read it 
 
 [Exit. 
 
WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
 
 A benevolent old officer, a lively wife who re- 
 forms a dissipated husband, Platoon a servant, 
 very closely after the model of Corporal Trim, 
 Susannah a simple-minded Audrey, Jacob a 
 German servant, and Rusport a showy British 
 officer, who turns out to be an impostor, furnished 
 the remainder of the varied and well sustained 
 dramatis persons. The piece was successful, and 
 ww followed by an Interlude entitled Darby's 
 Return. This was written for Wignell, the actor, 
 who was a great favorite in the character of Dar- 
 by in the " Poor Soldier," to which it formed a 
 sequel ; Darby, after various adventures in the 
 United States and Europe, returning to Ireland. 
 Washington, the author informs us, was present 
 at one of the representations. 
 
 The remembrance of this performance is rendered 
 pleasing from the recollection of the pleasure evinc- 
 ed by the first president of the tl. States, the immor- 
 tal Washington, who attended its representation. 
 The eyes of the audience were frequently bent on liis 
 countenance, and to watch the emotions produced 
 by any particular passage upon him was the simul- 
 taneous employment of all. When Wignell, as Dar- 
 by, recounts what had befallen him in America, in 
 New York, at the adoption of the Federal Constitu- 
 tion, and the inauguration of the president, the in- 
 terest expressed by the audience in the looks and 
 the changes of countenance of this great man became' 
 intense. He smiled at these lines alluding to the 
 change in the government — 
 
 There ton, I saw gome mighty pretty shows ; 
 A revolution, without blood or blows, 
 For, as I understood the cunning elves, 
 The people all revolted from theinsolves. 
 
 Put at the lines — 
 
 A man who fought to free the land from wo, 
 Like m<\ had left his farm, a soldiering to go, 
 But having gain'd his point, he had, lilcome, 
 Keturn'd his own potaloe ground to see. 
 But there he could not rest. With one accord 
 He's call'd to be a kind of — not a lord — 
 I don't know what, he's not a great man sure, 
 For poor men love him just as he were poor. 
 They love him like a father, or u brother. 
 
 DERMOT. 
 As we poor Irishmen love one another, 
 the president looked serious ; and when Kathleen 
 asked — 
 
 How look'd he, Darby ? .Was he short or tall? 
 
 his countenance showed embarrassment, from the ex- 
 pectation of one of those eulogiums which he had 
 been obliged to hear on many public occasions, and 
 Which must doubtless have been a severe trial to his 
 feelings; but Darby's answer that he had not seen 
 him, because he had mistaken a man " all lace and 
 glitter, botherum and shine" for him until all the 
 show had passed, relieved the hero from apprehen- 
 sion of further personality, and he indulged in that 
 which was with him extremely rare, a hearty laugh. 
 
 _ These successes, of course, brought the drama- 
 tist in close relations with the theatre. Other 
 pieces, tragic and comic, from bis pen were pro- 
 duced ; he appeared once upon the stage himself, 
 and in 1796 became an associate with Dallam 
 and Ilodgkinson in the management of the John 
 Street Theatre. On the 28th of January, 1798, 
 the company was transferred to the new'ly com- 
 pleted Park Theatre, suon after which Dunlap be- 
 came sole manager. On the 30th of March his 
 five act tragedy in blank verse on Andre was 
 
 produced with success. He kept the theatre well 
 supplied with other pieces from bis own pen, 
 mostly translations, making a great hit in a ver- 
 sion of Kotzebue's Stranger; and appears to have 
 conducted his business with spirit and intelli- 
 gence. The result was, however, disastrous, as on 
 the 22d of February, 1805, he closed the theatre a 
 bankrupt. In addition to this misfortune, he was 
 "a debtor to the United States as a security for 
 the marshal of New Jersey! w ' 10 was a defaulter." 
 During his management he bad kept his hand in 
 as an artist to some extent by painting " some 
 small sketchy likenesses" of Dr. Eliliti II. Smith, 
 C. B. Brown, and other literary associates of the 
 Friendly Club ; and he now devoted himself for 
 a number of years to his original profession. His 
 paintings were chiefly portraits. In 1800, he 
 again became connected as assistant manager with 
 a salary at the Park theatre, and so remained un- 
 til 1811. In 1812, he published the Memoirs of 
 the great " Star," George Frederick Cooke; a work 
 which, from his intimacy with the actor, he was 
 well prepared to write, and commenced a maga- 
 zine entitled the Recorder, which had but a brief 
 career. The numbers were collected into a vo- 
 lume with the title, " A Record Literary and Po- 
 litical of Five Months in the Year 1813 ; by Wil- 
 liam Dunlap and others." He also wrote a life 
 of his friend Charles Brockden Brown, accompa- 
 nied by a selection from his literary remains, which 
 he says, in apology for its unmethodical arrange- 
 ment, was made by Paid Allen of Baltimore, and 
 in part printed before the work was placed i.n his 
 hands. In 1814, he received the appointment of 
 Assistant Paymaster-General of the New York 
 State militia from Daniel I). Tompkins, a favor 
 which he attributes to the good offices of Wash- 
 ington Irving, then one of the general's aides. 
 This he held until the close of the year 1816, 
 when he resumed the brush. In his fifty-fifth, 
 year he painted a picture 18 by 12 feet, after tho 
 printed descriptions of West's " Christ Rejected," 
 which was exhibited in most of the cities and 
 towns of the Un' ted States with success. On the 
 5th of May, 1828, he opened to the public an ori- 
 ginal painting 18 by 14 of "Calvary." This ho 
 also carried to various parts of the United States. 
 In the winter of 1831 and '2, he delivered in New 
 York two lectures on the fine arts. In 1833, his 
 History of the American Theatre was published, 
 and on the 28th of February following he received 
 the well deserved honor of a complimentary bene- 
 fit at the Park Theatre, which placed the hand- 
 some sum of twenty-five hundred dollars in his 
 pocket. His History of the Arts of Design in 
 the United States was published by subscription 
 in 1834. It forms two octavo volumes, and con- 
 tains full biographical notices of all the artists in 
 every department of design in the oountry,abounds 
 in anecdote as well as information collected with 
 great pains from original sources, which cannot 
 be found elsewhere, and is tho most valuable of the 
 author's productions. 
 
 In 1836, he published a novel entitled Tliirty 
 Years Ago ; or the Memoirs of a Water Drinker, 
 which he dedicated to "all Temperance Societies." 
 He introduces in it many of his old recollections 
 of New York, bringing in the moral of his story 
 in the disastrous convivial habits of George Fre- 
 derick Cooke, whoso conversation is the main 
 
540 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 theme of the book. The old Park Theatre and 
 its group of actors figure largely -with the no- 
 tices of the main personages of the city. Dunlap 
 delighted to trace its historic scenes, and has pur- 
 sued this theme agreeably in these volumes in his 
 chapter on the Battery ; and a description of the 
 Inauguration of Washington at Federal Hall, in a 
 dinner party conversation. Among the incidents 
 of Cooke's life, the hoaxing duel with Cooper at 
 Cato's is described with humorous effect by Dun- 
 lap, who enters with gusto into the grand style of 
 his favorite subject, whose life he had written in 
 a graver measure. 
 
 In 1837, his History of New York for Schools 
 appeared in two duodecimo volumes. This lit- 
 tle book is written in the form of a dialogue be- 
 tween an uncle and his nephews. It is mainly taken 
 up with the city, and contains notices of the men 
 distinguished in art and literature as well as state 
 affairs, who have graced its annals. The pictur- 
 esque incidents of the Revolution are minutely and 
 vividly .depicted, and an additional historical va- 
 lue is given to the work by several well executed 
 wood-cuts of old houses, and other interesting lo- 
 calities. The look closes with the inauguration 
 of Washington. 
 
 His success in this effort probably induced one 
 of a more elaborate character on the same topic. 
 His History of New Netherlands, Province of 
 New York, and State of New York, appeared in 
 two octavo volumes in 1839. It is a work of in- 
 dustry and re.-earch, and contains a valuable ap- 
 pendix, occupying half of the second volume, in 
 which he has collected a number of curious facts 
 relating to manners and customs. It closes at the 
 same period with his previous history. 
 
 Dunlap died soon after the completion of this 
 work, September 28, 1839. 
 
 A NIGHT ON THE HUDSON RIVER WITH CIIARLES MATHEWS. 
 
 FROM THE HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN THEAffRE. 
 
 It was in the month of April, in the year 1823, 
 that I embarked with two hundred and fifty others, 
 in the steamboat Chancellor Livingston, for Albany. 
 After the bustle of leave-takii g, and the various 
 ceremonies and multifarious acts of hurried business 
 which daily take place on the departure of one of 
 these self-moving hotels from the city of Kew York, 
 I had leisure to look around me, with the intention 
 of finding some acquaintance as a companion, or at 
 least to satisfy my curiosity as to who were on 
 board. 
 
 I had seen many faces known to me when I first 
 entered tlie boat, but they had vanished: all ap- 
 peared, at first, strange. I soon, however, observed 
 James Fennimore Cooper, the justly-celebrated no- 
 velist, in conversation with Dr. Francis. The last- 
 mentioned gentleman I had long known, but with 
 the first my acquaintance was of recent date. We 
 had occasionally met at the bookstore of Wiley, his 
 publisher ; but it was not until after the circum- 
 stance I am now recording that an intimacy took 
 place, which has been to me a source of very great 
 pleasure. 
 
 I soon after noted a man of extraordinary appear- 
 ance, who moved rapidly about the deck, and occa- 
 sionally joined the gentlemen above named. His 
 age might be forty ; his figure tall, thin, and mus- 
 cular ; one leg was shorter than the other, which, 
 although it occasioned a halt in his gait, did not im- 
 pede his activity ; his features were extremely irre- 
 
 gular, yet his physiognomy was intelligent, and his 
 eyes remarkably searching and expressive. I had 
 never seen Mathews, either in private or public, 
 nor do 1 recollect that I had at that time ever seen 
 any representation of him, or heard his person 
 described; but I instantly concluded that this was 
 no other than the celebrated mimic and player. 
 Doubtless his dress and manner, which were evi- 
 dently English, and that peculiarity which still 
 marks some of the votaries of the histrionic art, 
 helped me to this conclusion. I say, " still marks ;" 
 for I remember the time when the distinction was 
 so gross that a child would say, " There goes a play- 
 actor." 
 
 The afternoon was uncommonly fine for our cli- 
 mate in the cold month of April. The passengers 
 generally kept the deck. We had not gone far on 
 our voyage before the author of The Spy (for he 
 was then chiefly known by that fascinating work) 
 accosted me nearly thus : — " I understand from Ma- 
 thews that you and he have never met. He is on 
 board, and has expressed a wish to be introduced to 
 you. Have you seen him off the stage l n 
 " No — nor on." 
 
 " Is it possible ! There he stands with Francis." 
 " I have been noticing that figure, and had come 
 to a conclusion that it was Mathews." 
 
 " His figure is odd enough, to be sure. I suppose 
 you know that his lameness and the deficiency in 
 the regular symmetry of his face are owing to his 
 being thrown from a gig, and very much injured by 
 the fall ; but these defects are not seen on the stage, 
 or are turned to good account by his skill in his 
 profession." 
 
 Part of this passed as we approached the subject 
 of the dialogue, and I soon made acquaintance with 
 Charles Mathews. He introduced the subject of 
 George Frederick Cooke and his Memoirs, compli- 
 mented the author of them, and of course made 
 himself agreeable. Fennimore was very attentive 
 to me, and appeared to wish my gratification by a 
 display of tlie talents of Mathews, who, as the 
 novelist afterwards told me, was at his suggestion 
 making a voyage to Albany, that he might see 
 something more of America and American manners 
 than are to be found in a seaport town. 
 
 The figure and manner of the actor were suffi- 
 ciently uncommon to attract the attention of a 
 throng of men usually employed in active business, 
 but here placed in a situation which, of all others, 
 calls for something to while away time ; but when 
 ) some who traced the likeness between the actor 
 on the deck of the steamboat and the actor on 
 the stage of the theatre, buzzed it about that this 
 was the mirth-inspiring Mathews, curiosity showed 
 itself in as many modes as there were varieties of 
 character in the motley crowd around him. 
 
 This very natural and powerful propensity, which 
 every person who exposes himself, or herself, upon 
 a public stage, to the gaze of the mixed multitude, 
 wishes ardently to excite, was, under the present 
 peculiar circumstances of time, place, and leisure, 
 expressed in a manner rather annoying to the hero 
 of the sock, who would now have willingly appeared 
 in the character of a private gentleman. 
 
 There are individuals who can generally overcome 
 this difficulty by dint of character, talent, or per- 
 sonal appearance ; but in the case before us there 
 was nothing sufficiently dignified to repress the 
 clownish propensities of such among the crowd as 
 were clowns, and they were not a few. 
 
 The passengers in the Chancellor Livingston find- 
 ing themselves on the same boards with the cele- 
 brated Mathews, and at liberty to gaze without 
 j paying for it, at the man who had delighted them 
 
WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
 
 511 
 
 on the stage, gratified their curiosity without much 
 ceremony; and whenever Mathews was perceived 
 to be stationary, and, with his usual animation, 
 amusing his immediate companions, the watchful 
 loungers closed around by degrees, and according to 
 character, feeling, or education, became distant or 
 nearer auditors and admirers of the wondrous man. 
 
 One clown, in particular, followed the object of 
 his very sincere admiration with a pertinacity which 
 deserved a better return than it met. He was to 
 Mathews a perfect Monsieur Tonson, and his appear- 
 ance seemed to excite the same feelings. The novelist 
 and physician pointed out to me the impertinent 
 curiosity of this admirer of the actor, and we all 
 took some portion of mischievous delight in observ- 
 ing the irritability of Mathews. It increased to a, 
 ludicrous degree when Mathews found that no effort 
 or change of place could exclude his tormentor from 
 his sight; and when, after having made an effort to 
 avoid him, he, on turning his head, saw Monsieur 
 Tonson fixed as a statue, again listening in motion- 
 less admiration to his honeyed words; the actor 
 would suddenly change from the animated relation 
 of story or anecdote, with which he had been enter- 
 taining his companions, to the outpouring of a 
 rhapsody of incoherent nonsense, uttered with in- 
 credible volubility : without altering his former 
 manner, he would rattle off something like, " Snr- 
 danapalus Heliogabalus Faustina and Kitty Fisher 
 with their fourteen children Cecrops Moses Ariadne 
 Robinson Crusoe Ximrod Captain Cooke Bonaparte 
 and Jack the Giant-Killer had a long confab with 
 Nebuchndonozer Sir Walter Raleigh and the pope 
 on the best mode of making caraway comfits." But 
 he found that this only made his admirer listen 
 more intently, and open his eyes and mouth more 
 widely and earnestly. As happens with many other 
 orators, the more unintelligible his nonsense, the 
 greater was the admiration of the auditor. 
 
 We had but one regular meal on the passage, a 
 very plentiful supper, at about seven o'clock, with 
 tea and coffee. We had embarked at 5 P. M., and 
 arrived at Albany by suurising. The meal was not 
 suited to the habits of Mr. Mathews, and he was i 
 offended by both the matter and manner of it; but 
 when the preparations for sleeping took place, and ! 
 he found that the whole company, females excepted, ! 
 must seek rest in the same cabin, some in berths and | 
 others accommodated with mattresses on the floor, 
 his feelings revolted, and he protested against taking 
 rest on such terms. 
 
 To this feeling I am indebted for a night of much 
 amusement; I should be unjust if I did not add, and 
 some instruction. I had secured a mattress on the 
 floor of one of the cabins, and should have dully 
 slept away at least part of the night, but that Fen- 
 nimore Cooper gave me intimation of Mathews's ' 
 wisli to sit up, and of his (Cooper's) success in obtain- 
 ing the captain's cabin on the deck of the vessel, 
 where Mathews, Francis, and himself had deter- 
 mined to enjoy a supper, whiskey-punch, and such 
 convivial pleasure as could be extracted from such 
 circumstances, and such a meeting. I was invited 
 to make one, and readily accepted the invitation. 
 
 Seated in the captain's cabin, and freed from all 
 annoyance, Mathews became, as usual, the fiddle of | 
 the company; and story, anecdote, imitation, and 
 song poured from him with the rapidity and bril- 
 liancy of the stars which burst from a rocket on a 
 rejoicing night. To make himself still more agree- 
 able to the senior, he introduced the memoirs of , 
 George Frederick, with that flattery which is deli- 
 cious to all men, and peculiarly so to an author. 
 "The story of Cooke and Mrs. Burns," he added, 
 " you havo told remarkably well, and when I have 
 
 introduced it in my ' Youthful Days' I have always 
 taken your words ; but Tom Cooper from whom, as 
 I understand, you had it, forgot the termination of 
 the story', — the real denouement, — which makes it 
 infinitely more dramatic." 
 
 All joined in the request that Mathews would 
 tell the story in his own way, and he, nothing loath, 
 began : — 
 
 " I was a raw recruit in the Thespian corps, and 
 it was my first campaign in Dublin. Chance made 
 me a fellow-lodger with Cooke, at the house of Mis- 
 tress Burns. 1 had looked at the great actor with 
 an awful reverence, but had not yet been honoured 
 by any notice from him. 
 
 " In getting up Maeklin's Love a la Mode, I had 
 been cast for Beau Mordecai, and assuredly a more 
 unfit representative of the little Jew can scarcely he 
 imagined. As tall as I now am, I had then all the 
 rawboned awkwardness of a hobbletehoy, and no 
 knowledge of the world or of the stage. But Mr. 
 Cooke must be shown to the Dublin public as Sir 
 Arehj', and there was no other Mordecai to be had. 
 I was, however, perfect in the words ; and if I mur- 
 dered the Jew, I did it impartially ; I murdered 
 him ' every inch.' 
 
 " After the farce, I tarried, as you Yankees say, a 
 considerable time at the theatre, rather choosing to 
 linger among the almost expiring dipped candles of 
 the dressing-rooms thai) to seek, through rnist and 
 mud, my lofty but comfortless abode in Mrs. Burns's 
 garret ; but the property-man gave me my cue to 
 depart, by putting out the lights ; and I was slowly 
 mounting to my bed, when, as I passed the room of 
 the great man, I saw him (the door being open) sit- 
 ting with a jug before him, indulging after the 
 labours of the evening. I was stealing by, and had 
 already one foot on the flight of stairs which led to 
 my exalted apartment, when I was arrested by a 
 loud, high-pitched voice, crying, ' Come hither, 
 young man.' I could scarcely believe my senses : I 
 hesitated. ' Come in,' was repeated. I advanced. 
 ' Shut the door, and sit down.' I obeyed. He 
 assumed an air of courtesy, and calling upon Mis- 
 tress Burns for another tumbler, filled for himself 
 and me. ' You will be so kind, my good Mistress 
 Burns, as to bring another pitcher of whiskey -punch 
 in honour of our young friend.' ' To be sure and 
 I will, Mr. Cooke.' The punch was brought, and a 
 hot supper, an unusual luxury then to me. After 
 supper, the veteran, quite refreshed and at ease, 
 chatted incessantly of plays and players, — lashing 
 some, commending others, — while I, delighted to be 
 thus honoured, listened and laughed; thus playing 
 naturally and sincerely the part of a most agreeable 
 companion. After the third jug of punch, I was 
 sufficiently inspired to ask a few questions, and even 
 to praise the acting of the veteran. 
 
 " ' To use your own words, as I have often before 
 done,' said Mathews, addressing himself to the bio- 
 grapher, ' one jug of whiskey-punch followed the 
 other,' and Cooke began to advise his young com- 
 panion how to conduct himself on the real and on 
 the mimic scene of life. ' You are young, and want 
 a friend to guide you. Talent you have; but talent 
 without prudence is worthless, and may be per- 
 nicious. Take my word for it, there is nothing can 
 place a man at the head of Ids profession but industry 
 and sobriety. Mistress Burns ! — shun ebriety as you 
 would shun destruction. Mistress Burns! another 
 jug of whiskey-punch, Mistress Burns.' 
 
 " ' Oh, Mister Cooke — ' 
 
 " ' You make it so g>od, Mistress Burns ; another 
 
 jug-' 
 
 " ' Yes, Mister Cooke.' 
 
 " ' In our profession, my young friend, dissipation 
 
542 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 is the bane of hundreds ; " villanous company" — low 
 company leads to drinking ; and the precious time 
 is lost which should have been employed in gaining 
 that knowledge which alone can make men respect- 
 able. Ah ! thank you, Mistress Burns : this has the 
 true Ilibernia smack ?' " 
 
 " ' You may say that, Mister Cooke.' " 
 
 It is needless to remind the reader, that with the 
 aid of Mathews's powers of imitation, sometimes 
 called ventriloquism in this humbugging world, all 
 this and much more would be extremely pleasant, 
 and the more especially as the company had re- 
 peated supplies of the same inspiring beverage from 
 the steward, and almost as good, certainly as strong, 
 as that of Mistress Burns's. 
 
 Mathews went on to describe the progress of 
 Cooke's intoxication, during which his protests 
 against drunkenness became stronger with each 
 glass. He then undertook to instruct the tyro in 
 the histrionic art, and especially in the manner of ex- 
 hibiting the passions. Here it would be vain to 
 endeavour to follow Mathews: Cooke's grimaces 
 and voice, — while his physical powers, under the 
 government of whiskey, rebelled at every effort 
 against the intention of the lecturer, — were depicted 
 by the mimic in a manner beyond the conception of 
 even those who have seen the public exhibition of 
 his talents: here all was unrestrained gig and fun, 
 and the painting truly con amove, and glowing from 
 heart and glass. 
 
 " It must be remembered," continued Mr. Ma- 
 thews, " that I was but a boy, and Cooke in the full 
 vigour of manhood, with strength of limb and voice 
 Herculean. I had the highest reverence for his 
 talents, and literally stood in awe of him ; so that 
 when he made his horrible faces, and called upon 
 me to name the passion he had depicted, I was truly 
 frightened, — overwhelmed with the dread of offend- 
 ing him, and utterly at a loss to distinguish one gri- 
 mace from another, except as one was more and 
 another most savnge and disgusting. 
 
 " ' Sow, sir — observe — what's that?' 
 
 " ' Revenge — ' 
 
 " ' Revenge, you booby ! Pity ! pity !' 
 
 " Then, after making another hideous contortion 
 of countenance, he cries, 
 
 " 'What is that, sir?' 
 
 " ' Yery fine, sir; very fine, indeed.' 
 
 " ' But what is it, sir ?' 
 
 " Forced to answer, and utterly unable to guess 
 the meaning of the distorted face which he then 
 again thrust before me, I stammered out, 
 
 " ' Anger, sir.' 
 
 " 'Anger !' 
 
 " ' Yes, sir ; anger, to be sure.' 
 
 " ' To be sure you are a blockhead! Look again, 
 sir look nsrain ! It's fear, sir — fear. You play I 
 you a play l. ' 
 
 Mathews then exhibited the face of Cooke, as 
 he distorted it to express the tender passion, — a 
 composition of Satanic malignity and the brutal 
 leering of a drunken satyr, — and imitating Cooke's 
 most discordant voice, cried, 
 
 ". ' There, sir ; that's love.' 
 
 " This," continued Matthews, " was more than I 
 could bear: even my fears could not restrain my 
 laughter : I roared. He stared at first ; but imme- 
 diately assuming a most furious aspect, he cried, 
 
 " ' What do you laugh at, sir ! Is George Frede- 
 rick Cooke to be made a laughing-stock for a booby I 
 What, sir !' 
 
 " Luckily, at that moment Mrs. Burns stood with 
 the door partly opened, and another jug in her 
 hands. ' You must pardon me, sir,' I said, with a 
 quickness which must have been the inspiration of 
 
 whiskey, ' but you happened to turn your soft and 
 languishing look' towards the door just as Mrs. Burns 
 opened it, and I could not but think of the dangerous 
 eifect of such a look upon her sex's softness.' 
 
 " He laughed ; and embracing the jug as the good 
 woman put it down, he looked at Mrs. Burns, and 
 with some humour endeavoured to sing. How happy 
 could I be with cither, were t' oilier dear charmer 
 away, but with a voice which defies art and nature 
 for a comparison. 
 
 " Mrs. Burns now protested against any more 
 punch ; but after some time agreed, upon Cooke's 
 solemn promise to be satisfied with one more jug, to 
 bring it. 
 
 " ' But remember your honour, Mister Cooke ; 
 and that is the jewel of a jontleman ; and sure you 
 have pledged it to me, 5-ou have.' 
 
 " ' I have, my good Mistress Burns ; and it is 
 " the immediate jewel of the soul," as you say.' 
 
 " ' I said no such thing ; but I'll be as good as my 
 word; and one more jug you shall have, and the 
 divil a bit more, jewe or no jewel.' 
 
 " I was heartily tired by this time, and placed mo 
 hope on Mrs. Burns's resolution. The last jug came, 
 and was finished ; and I wished him good night. 
 
 " ' Not yet, my dear boy.' 
 
 " ' It's very late, sir.' 
 
 " ' Early, early : one jug more.' 
 
 " ' Mrs. Burns will not let us have it, sir.' 
 
 " 'She will not I I'll show you that presently !'" 
 
 Then followed a fine specimen of imitation ; Ma- 
 thews, as Cooke, calling upon Mrs. Burns (who was 
 in the room below, and in bed), and then giving her 
 answers, as coming up through the floor, in the man- 
 ner called ventriloquism. 
 
 " ' Mistress Burns ! Do you hear, Mistress 
 Burns ?' 
 
 " ' Indeed and I do, Mister Cooke.' 
 
 " ' Bring me another jug of whiskey-punch, Mis- 
 tress Burns !' . 
 
 " ' Indeed and I won't, Mister Cooke I" 
 
 " ' You won't ?' 
 
 " ' Indeed and indeed so I won't.' 
 
 " ' Do you hear that, Mistress Burns ?' (smashing 
 the jug on the floor). 
 
 " ' Indeed and I do, and you'll be sorry for it to- 
 morrow.' " 
 
 He then regularly took the chairs, one by one, 
 and broke them on the floor immediately over Mrs. 
 Burns's head, after every crash crying, " Do you 
 hear that, Mistress Burns ?" and she as regularly 
 answering, " Indeed and I do, Mr. Cooke." He next 
 opened the window, and threw the looking-glass 
 into the street. 
 
 " I stood," continued Mathews, ■' in a state of 
 stupid amazement during this scene ; but now at- 
 tempted to make my escape, edging towards the 
 door, and making a long stride to gain the garret 
 stairs. 
 
 " ' Come back, sir ! Where are you going V 
 
 " ' To bed, sir.' 
 
 " 'To bed, sir! What, sir! desert me! I com- 
 mand you to remain, on }'our allegiance ! Desert 
 me in time of war I Traitor !' 
 
 " I now determined to make resistance ; and feel- 
 I ing pot-valiant, looked big, and boldly answered, 
 
 " ' I will not be commanded ! I will go to bed !' 
 
 " ' Aha !' cried the madman, in his highest key, 
 ! ' Aha ! do you rebel ? Caitiff ! wretch ! mur- 
 ! derer !' 
 
 " He advanced upon me, and I shrank to nothing 
 before his flashing eye. ' Murderer !' and he seized 
 me by the collar with Herculean grip, ' You will 
 go ! I will send you to the place you are fittest for! 
 Murderer, I'll drag you to your doom 1 I'll give 
 
WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
 
 5.43 
 
 you up to Fate ! Come along, caitiff !' and he 
 dragged me to the open window, vociferating, 
 ' Watch ! watch ! murder ! murder !' in his highest 
 and loudest key. 
 
 " Immediately the rattles were heard approaching 
 in all directions, and a crowd instantly collected. 
 He continued vociferating, ' Watch ! watch ! mur- 
 der!' until the rattles and exclamations of the watch- 
 men almost drowned his stentorian voice. 
 
 " * What's the matter ? who's kilt ? who's mur- 
 dered ? Where's the murderer ?' 
 
 " ' Silence !' screamed Cooke, ' hear me !' All 
 became hushed. Then holding me up to the win- 
 dow, the raving tragedian audibly addressed the 
 crowd : — ' In the name of Charles Macklin, I charge 
 this culprit, Charles Mathews, with the most foul, 
 cruel, deliberate, and unnatural murder of the un- 
 fortunate Jew, Beau Mordecai, in the farce of Love 
 a la Mode.' Then pulling down the window, he 
 cried, ' Now go to bed, you booby ! go to bed ! go 
 to bed! go to bed !' " 
 
 The steamboat party remained together until near 
 morning, and then retired to rest. Let it not be 
 supposed that they imitated the folly of the hero of 
 the above tale because whiskey-punch has been 
 mentioned. The evening, or night, was one of real 
 interchange of mind, heightened by the peculiar 
 powers and habits of the very extraordinary his- 
 trionic artist who gave this instance of Cooke's 
 eccentric and pernicious propensities. 
 
 A SCENE WITH COOKE AND COOPER AT CATO'S — FROM THE ME- 
 MOIRS OF A WATER-DRINKER. 
 
 Who has not heard of Cato Alexander's f Not to 
 know ' l Cato's," is not to know the world. At least 
 bo it was thought twenty-five or thirty years ago. 
 But as all our readers are not supposed to be ac- 
 quainted with the world, we must point out the 
 situation, and describe the localities of — Cato's — that 
 our tale may be duly understood, and its incidents 
 appreciated. 
 
 Between four and five miles north-east from the 
 building called in New York the City Hall, in front 
 of which we first met our readers, and introduced 
 them to our hero, and other personages of note, 3 T et 
 to be made more intimately known — between four 
 and five miles from this building, on the west side of 
 the old Boston-road, stands this celebrated tavern, 
 owned and kept by Cato Alexander, and called, from 
 the landlord, " Cato's." 
 
 Cato, the keeper of a road tavern ! Alexander the 
 bearer of gin toddy to a whiskered shop-boy on a 
 Sunday! Cato — Alexander — what awful names! 
 How full of associations ! each singly denoti g the 
 conqueror of self, or the conqueror of the world; 
 now united to designate a servant of vicious and 
 pampered appetites! 
 
 Do not let us be mistaken. Cato of Cato's was no 
 worse a man than the tens of thousands with whiter 
 faces, who administer to the pride, passions, and 
 vices of the multitude. He was neither more nor 
 less than the keeper of an eating and drinking-house; 
 one whose lawful trade is to tempt to excess, and 
 who may legally live by administering poison. 
 
 It would puzzle any but a philosopher to find a 
 reason for that preference " Cato's" lias enjoyed for 
 many years overall the many receptacles of idleness 
 and intemperance which stand invitingly open on 
 the roads and avenues leading to and from our moral 
 and religious city. We, being a philosopher, have 
 found it,' and can communicate. It is preferred to 
 other houses of refuge from temperance, that are 
 known under the appellation of retreats, (such as 
 " Citizen's Retrent," " Fireman's Retreat," " Mecha- 
 nic's Retreat," " Old Countryman's Retreat," and a 
 
 hundred other retreats from public notice, or domes- 
 tic duties,) not because its situation has more of rural 
 retirement — for it stands full in view of the traveller 
 or way-farer. It is not a retreat from noise, for that 
 resounds within ; nor from dusl^, for that it invites 
 and receives from every wheel and hoof that pnsses. 
 It is not preferred because it enjoys or gives its vi- 
 sitors better or more extensive prospects than its 
 rivals, for it commands no view but of the dirty high- 
 road, a cabbage-garden, a horse-shed, and a sign- 
 post ; nor is 'it chosen for that the breezes of either 
 land or sea bear health or refreshment to its admir- 
 ers ; for the land rises on every side, barring every 
 wind that blows from visiting it too roughly. Nei- 
 ther is it the spacious apartments or elegant furni- 
 ture that gives it preference, for its inmates are 
 cabined, cribbed, and confined in cells like acorn- 
 cups, compared with the halls and saloons of the 
 town hotels and gambling-houses. But, Mrs. Catois 
 a notable cook. The " cibin is convenient." There 
 are none but black faces belonging to the establish- 
 ment. We feel that we are " right worshipful." All 
 around is subserviency. Desdemona saw Othello's 
 visage in his mind ; it is, to some, pleasing to see the 
 badge of subserviency in the visage. 
 
 ■#■ i£ ^ vt 96 ■£ -ift & 
 
 Leave we the company of thought-drown ers, and 
 meet them again by-aud-by. Some hours had pass- 
 ed. Spiffard had tired of the noise of the table, 
 wearied with flashes of merriment not inspired by 
 wit, but by wine; not the genuine and healthy pro- 
 geny of the reasoning faculty when indulging in 
 sportive recreation, but the mere empty ebullition 
 of excited animal spirits, without the guidance or 
 control of reason. He had walked up and down the 
 road in search of a pleasant place for retirement, but 
 finding none, seated himself upon a bench under a 
 building erected for the reception of water drinkers, 
 — it was the horse-shed in front of the house. The 
 tavern lias a piazza, but the noise of the revel- 
 lers made it almost as disagreeable as the smoke-in- 
 cumbered dining-room. The tumult increased so as 
 to reach the place of refuge he had chosen. Dis- 
 cordant sounds commingled in confusion, the mono- 
 tony of which was broken by the high, harsh, 
 screeching and croaking of Cooke's notes of inebria- 
 tion. 
 
 "I'm your man, sir! — a dead shot, sir! George 
 Frederick is the name to eovi a yankee!" 
 
 The whole party now issued to the piazza, and af- 
 ter a preliminary discussion of the mode in which 
 wounded honour was to be cured by the duello, (a 
 discussion of which Spiffard only heard pieces or 
 snatches of sentences, as " ten paces — five paces, — ■ 
 yankee actor, — dead shot," they descended, and took 
 a station between the tavern and the horse-shed. 
 
 It now appeared that Cooke and Cooper were to 
 be pitted, not as actors, but as duellists. The seconds 
 were busy loading the pistols, (an implement of 
 death or amusement always kept in readiness at Ca- 
 to's.) Cooke became silent and dignified, only show- 
 ing by increased energy in his step, (not always pro- 
 perly applied.) and increased colour in his face, the 
 increase of his ebriety. His antagonist was all po- 
 liteness — the established etiquette with those who 
 meet to murder. The seconds and witnesses display- 
 ed to the eye of the water-drinker, or any other ra- 
 tional animal, that they were all so far blinded them- 
 selves, that they could notsee how plainly they were 
 exposing their supposedly deep-hidden hoax to any 
 clear-sighted spectator. 
 
 The word was given. The two tragedians fired at 
 the same moment, or nearly so. Cooke's second took 
 advantage of the smoke and noise to thrust a stick 
 through his principal's coat, to produce a bullet-hole. 
 
544 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 at the same time he threw his left arm around 
 him, as if for support, crying, "He has hit you, 
 sir." 
 
 But Cooke was in one of those half-mad, half-cun- 
 ning paroxysms, which enabled him to act as the 
 subject of the hoax, while he in reality hoaxed the 
 hoaxers; and enjoyed all the pleasure of acting the 
 part of the dupe, with the assurance of duping those 
 who thought they were playing upon him. He was 
 assuming the madman, and sufficiently mad to enjoy 
 all the pleasure which " only madmen know." Pre- 
 tending to believe that he was hit by his opponent's 
 ball, lie, with a force which only madness could give, 
 threw out his left arm, and hurled his officiously de- 
 signing second several paces from him, reeling until 
 the eow-yard (the court-yard of the establishment) 
 received him at fall length. As the smoke evaporat- 
 ed, Cooper was seen extended in mock agonies ; his 
 second and others of the party, leaning over him in 
 pretended mourning. 
 
 "Mr. Cooke, your ball has passed through the 
 lungs of poor Cooper, I'm afraid. The surgeon is 
 examining the wound. There is little hope — " 
 
 "None, sirrl I never miss. He is the tenth. I 
 am sorry for him." He stalked up to the pretended 
 hurt man with due gravity. This was a precious 
 opportunity for the veteran to mingle sarcasm and 
 mock regrets, and to pay the hoaxers in their own 
 coin, stampt anew in the mint of his brains, and he 
 did not let it escape him. 
 
 "Poor Tom, poor ' Tom's acold!' I'm sorry for 
 him. I'm sorry that his farthing-eamlle-life was ex- 
 tinguished by my hand, although he deserved death 
 from none more. ' This even-handed justice com- 
 mends the ingredients of our murderous pistols to 
 our own breasts. I warned him of my unerring aim ; 
 but the ' thief will seek the halter.' How do you 
 find his wound, sirr ?" 
 
 " I am examining it, sir; I am torturing him." 
 
 " It is no more than he has done to hundreds of 
 hearers." 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, he will never play again." 
 
 "Then by murdering him honourably, I have pre- 
 vented many dishonourable murders. Shade of 
 Shakespeare, applaud me I He will never again 
 murder Macbeth instead of Duncan, or throttle 
 Othello instead of Desdemona. I am a second Ma- 
 homet overthrowing idolatry ! The wooden god of 
 the Yankee-doodles lies prostrate! Fie, George 
 Frederick, to triumph over a block. Farewell, poor 
 Tom! poor enough." This was said over his shoul- 
 der. " 1 could have better spared a better actor — 
 but let that pass, while we pass to our pious medita- 
 tions. Who takes order for the funeral ? Bear the 
 body in !" When sober none did more justice to bis 
 rival's merit, although now so scurrilously unjust. 
 
 " He revives, sir. There is hope yet," said the 
 surgeon. 
 
 " Then may the poets mourn." 
 
 While the pretended dead duellist was removed 
 into the house, Cooke's second approached him, ex- 
 claiming, " The horses are ready, sir ; we must 
 
 fl y-", . 
 
 " We, sir! when I fly or creep, I choose my com- 
 pany. George Frederick Cooke never flies from 
 danger. Fly, sir! if the idol of Yankee-land lives, 
 there is nothing to apprehend from his worshippers, 
 nothing to fly from, except when he acts; and if he 
 dies, and by p/y hand, I have honoured him,, and 
 benefited the world." So saying, the hero strutted 
 most sturdily to the steps of the piazza, where, feel- 
 ing the difficulty of ascent, he recollected his wound 
 called for assistance, and was supported to the table, 
 at which sat, like another Banquo, the man whose 
 fall he triumphed over. 
 
 ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 Alexander, Wilson, the first to claim the title 
 of the American Ornithologist, was born at 
 Paisley, Scotland, July 6, 1766. His parents 
 were persons in humble but respectable circum- 
 stances, and their anticipations for their son 
 seem to have looked forward to a, time, as ex- 
 pressed in his own words, 
 
 AVhen, clad in sable gown, with solemn air, 
 The walls of God's own house Bhould echo back 
 his prayer. 
 
 The death of his mother, when he was ten 
 years old, and the re-marriage of his father not 
 long after, probably prevented the execution of 
 this plan. July 31, 1773, he was apprenticed to 
 a weaver, and an entry on the indenture, dated 
 " Agst, 1782," records in verse the expiration of 
 his time :— 
 
 Be't kent to a' the warld in rhime, 
 That wi' right mickle wark an' toil, 
 
 For three lang years I've ser't my time, 
 Whiles feasted wi' the hazel oil. 
 
 He continued working at the loom for four 
 years longer, varying his labors, as during his 
 novitiate, with various attempts at poetry. One 
 of the couplets shows the restiveness of his active 
 mind and body, under his sedentary and mono- 
 tonous employment : — 
 
 Good gods! shall a mortal with legs, 
 So low uncomplaining be brought. 
 
 About the close of this period he was at work for 
 William Duncan, his brother-in-law, under whom 
 he had served his apprenticeship. Duncan deter- 
 mined to make a venture as a pedlar, and Wilson, 
 considering that occupation a much more appro- 
 priate one for a "mortal with legs," accompanied 
 him. Three years of his life were employed in 
 this manner, during which he visited various 
 portions of Scotland, digressing from his route 
 to all places of literary or romantic interest 
 which lay within reasonable distance. His op- 
 portunities of observation increased his taste for 
 writing, by furnishing him with ample material 
 to work upon ; and we find him, in 1789, making 
 a contract with Mr. John Neilson, a Paisley 
 printer, for an edition of his poems. He added 
 a number of prospectuses to the varied contents 
 of his pack, and set off afresh with purposes 
 pleasantly recorded in a journal which he kept of 
 his tour. 
 
 As youth is the most, favourable time to establish 
 a man's good fortune in the world, and as his success 
 in life depends, in a great measure, on his prudent 
 endeavours, and unwearied perseverance, I have 
 resolved to make one bold push for the united inte- 
 rests of pack and poems. Nor can any one justly 
 blame me for it, since experience has now convinced 
 me, that the merit I am possessed of (which is cer- 
 tainly considerable) might lie for ever. buried in 
 obscurity, without such an attempt. I have, there- 
 fore, fitted up a proper budget, consisting of silks, 
 muslins, prints, ifcc. for the accommodation of those 
 good people who may prove my customers, — a suffi- 
 cient quantity of proposals for my poetical friends; 
 and, to prevent those tedious harangues, which 
 otherwise I would be obliged to deliver at every 
 threshold, I have, according to the custom of the 
 most polite pedlars, committed the contents of my 
 
ALEXANDER 'WILSON'. 
 
 545 
 
 pack to a handbill, though in a style somewhat re- 
 mote from any I have yet seen. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 Fair ladies, I pray, for one moment to stay, 
 
 Until with submission I tell you, 
 What muslins so curious, for uses so various, 
 
 A poet has here brought to sell you. 
 
 Here's handkerchiefs charming ; book-muslins like 
 ermine. 
 
 Brocaded, striped, corded, and cheek'd ; 
 Sweet Venus, they say, on Cupid's birth-day, 
 
 In British-made muslins was deck'd. 
 
 If these can't content ye, here's muslins in plenty, 
 
 From one shilling up to a dozen, 
 That Juno might wear, and more beauteous appear, 
 
 When she means the old Thunderer to cozen. 
 
 Here are fine jaconets, of numberless sets, 
 
 With spotted and sprigged festoons; 
 And lovely tambours, with elegant flowers, 
 
 For bonnets, cloaks, aprons, or gowns. 
 
 Now, ye Fair, if ye choose any piece to peruse, 
 
 With pleasure I'll instantly shew it: 
 If the Pedlar should fail to be favor'd with sale, 
 
 Then I hope you'll encourage the Poet. 
 
 Though the subscription part of the enterprise 
 was a failure, the book was printed in July, 
 1700, and the author again made his roimds to 
 deliver copies to the few subscribers he had ob- 
 tained, and sell to some of the many who were 
 not. Poetry is said to be a drug on a publisher's 
 shelves, and can only be an active commodity of 
 a pedlar's pack when its proprietor is on foot. 
 The second tour produced a disgust to the. busi- 
 ness, and he abandoned it for the loom at Paisley. 
 That had not been long in motion before he 
 heard of a proposed discussion at an Edinburgh 
 debating society, composed of a portion of the 
 city literati, as to "whether have the exertions 
 of Allan Ramsay or Robert Fergusson done more 
 honor to Scottish poetry?" He borrowed the 
 poems of the latter poet, worked hard by day to 
 earn the means to travel to Edinburgh, and by 
 night at a poem, The Laurel Disputed, which ho 
 read at the time and place of the discussion, 
 before the assembled "Forum." The audience 
 did not agree with him in his preference of Fer- 
 gnsson, but the merits of the performance gained 
 him friends — among others, Dr. Anderson, for 
 whose periodical of the Bee he became a contri- 
 butor. 
 
 Before leaving town he recited two other 
 poems, Rab and Ringan, and The Loss o' the 
 Pack, and published with his friend Ebenezer 
 Picken, who had taken the part of Ramsay in 
 blank verse, a pamphlet, entitled The Laurel 
 Disputed; or, the Merits of Allan Ramsay and 
 Robert Fergusson Contrasted, in Two Poetical 
 Essays, by E. Picken and A. Wilson. On return- 
 ing to Paisley, when his funds were exhausted, 
 his Edinburgh success induced him to bring out 
 a second edition of his poems. The volume, with 
 the title, Poems, Humorous, Satirical, and Serious, 
 was issued immediately, and the author again 
 attempted to be his own bookseller, and again 
 failed. 
 
 In 1792, his poem of Watty and Meg was pub- 
 lished anonymously. It met with very great 
 success — one hundred thousand copies being sold 
 
 vol.. i. — 35 
 
 within a few weeks — and received the high honor 
 of being attributed to Burns. This was a great 
 gratification to the author, who entertained a 
 high regard for the great poet, and had pre- 
 viously made his acquaintance by a letter which 
 he wrote to Burns on the first publication of his 
 poems, in which he objected to some on the score 
 of immorality. Burns replied he was so used to 
 such communications that he usually paid no 
 attention to them ; but that as Wilson showed 
 himself to be a good poet, he would, in this in- 
 stance, vindicate himself. Wilson afterwards 
 visited Burns at Ayrshire. 
 
 A dispute arising between the manufacturers 
 and weavers of Paisley, Wilson, in the interest of 
 j the latter, wrote several satirical poems against 
 the former, which were handed around in MS. 
 One of these, The Shark, or Long Mills Detected, 
 he sent in manuscript to the person it attacked, 
 with an offer to suppress it iorjire guineas. For 
 this he was prosecuted, and on conviction sent to 
 jail for a few days, and to burn his poem in pub- 
 lic. The latter portion of his sentence was put 
 in execution on the sixth of February, 1793. In 
 consideration to his feeling*, no public notice was 
 given, and the act was witnessed only by the 
 chance passers-by. The poem had already been 
 secretly printed after the commencement of the 
 prosecution, in the preceding May.* This occur- 
 rence was, no doubt, one of the causes of his 
 emigration to America. The others were his 
 sympathy with the democratic spirit of the early 
 days of the French Revolution, which caused 
 him to be suspected by the authorities, the hope- 
 lessness of bettering his condition in the old 
 world, and the alluring prospect of political and 
 pecuniary independence held out by tire new. 
 After living for four months at the rate of a shil- 
 ling a week, he saved money enough to pay for 
 his passage, walked to Port Patrick, sailed to 
 Belfast, and thence embarked as a deck passen- 
 ger for America. 
 
 He landed at Newcastle, Delaware, July 14, 
 1794, and proceeded forthwith to Philadelphia, 
 distant thirty-three miles, on foot, shooting on the 
 way a bird of the red-headed woodpecker species, 
 the commencement of his ornithological pursuits. 
 On his arrival at the city, he worked for a time 
 at copperplate printing with one of his country- 
 men, and afterwards tried his old avocations of 
 weaving and peddling. These were abandoned 
 in 1794 for school-keeping. He commenoed this 
 portion of his career near Frankford, which he 
 soon abandoned for a better position at Miles- 
 town, Pa., where he remained until the com- 
 mencement of the next century, diligently em- 
 ployed in repairing the deficiencies of his own 
 education,. as well as laying the foundations of 
 that of the children in his charge. He also 
 indoctrinated himself in American politics, deli- 
 vered an oration On the Power and Value of 
 National Liberty, and wrote the song, Jefferson 
 and Liberty, about this period. 
 
 * A few years before his death Wilson sent for his brother 
 David to join him in America. David brought with him 
 copies of these satires, which he had collected with some 
 trouble, and presented them to his brother. The author, how- 
 ever, at once threw them in the fire, saying: "These were the 
 follies of youth; and had I taken my srood old: father's advioe, 
 tbey never would have seen the light?' 
 
546 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1802 he took charge of a seminary near 
 Gray's Ferry, on the Schuylkill, four miles from 
 Philadelphia. This brought him into communi- 
 cation with two valuable friends, 'William Bar- 
 tram the naturalist, and Lawson the eno-raver. 
 His leisure hours were now devoted to the pur- 
 suit to which he was becoming more and more 
 attached — that of Ornithology. 
 
 I sometimes smile (he writes to Bartram) to think, 
 that while others are immersed in deep schemes of 
 speculation and aggrandizement, in building towns 
 and purchasing plantations, I am entranced in con- 
 templation over the plumage of a lark, or gazing 
 like a despairing lover on the lineaments of an owl. 
 While others are hoarding up their bags of money, 
 without the power of enjoying it, I am collecting, 
 without injuring my conscience, or wounding my 
 peace of mind, those beautiful specimens of Nature's 
 works that are for ever pleasing. I have had live 
 crows, hawks, n,nd owls ; opossums, squirrels, snakes, 
 lizards, <fcc, so that my room has sometimes re- 
 minded me of Noah's ark ; but Xoah had a wife in 
 one corner of it, and, in this particular, our parallel 
 does not altogether tally. 
 
 I receive every subject of natural history that is 
 brought to me ; and, though they do not march into 
 my ark from all quarters, as they did into that of 
 our great ancestor, yet I find means, by the distri- 
 bution of a few fivepenny bits, to make them find 
 the way fast enough. A boy, not long ago, brought 
 me a large basketful of crows. I expect his next 
 load will be bull frogs, if I don't soon issue orders 
 to the contrary. One of my boys caught a mouse in 
 school, a few days ago, and directly marched up to 
 me with his prisoner. 1 set about" drawing it that 
 same evening ; and all the while the pantings of its 
 little heart shewed it to be in the most extreme 
 agonies of fear. I had intended to kill it, in order 
 to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl ; but, happen- 
 ing to spill a few drops of water near where it was 
 tied, it lapped it up with such eagerness, and looked 
 in my face with such an eye of supplicating terror, as 
 perfectly overcame me. I immediat ely untied it, and 
 restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a 
 prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments 
 
 of torment are preparing, could not be more severe 
 than the sufferings of that poor mouse ; and, insigni- 
 ficant as the object was, I felt at that moment the 
 sweet sensations that mercy leaves on the mind when 
 she triumphs over cruelty. 
 
 A letter written a little after, in June, 1803, 
 shows that the amateur amusement was about 
 becoming the engrossing occupation of his life. 
 Addressing a friend at Paisley, he says : " Close 
 application to the duties of my profession, which 
 I have followed since November, 1795, has deeply 
 injured my constitution ; the more so, that my 
 rambling disposition was the worse calculated of 
 any one's in the world for the austere regularity 
 of a teacher's life. I have had many pursuits 
 since I left Scotland — mathematics, the German 
 language, rniMC, drawing, &e., and I am now 
 about to make a collection of all our finest birds." 
 The labors to which he refers had been undergone 
 to supply, not only his own simple wants, but 
 also those of a nephew, who with his family had 
 settled on a farm, of which Wilson and the 
 nephew wore joint owners, in the state of New 
 York. One of his various occupations had been 
 to contribute a number of poems, among others 
 his Solitary Tutor, to Charles Brockden Brown's 
 Literary Magazine. 
 
 Iu October, 1S04, Wilson, with two friends, 
 made a pedestrian tour to the Falls of Niagara. 
 Winter overtook them on their return, in Novem- 
 ber, near Cayuga Lake. One of his companions 
 tarried with his relatives until the spring, and the 
 other availed himself of a less fatiguing mode of 
 transportation than that afforded by his legs ; but 
 Wilson trudged on with his gun through the 
 snow " mid-leg deep," and arrived home in the 
 beginning of December, after a journey of 1257 
 miles, and an absence of 59 days. One result of 
 the trip was his poem of The Foresters, pub- 
 lished in the Port Folio; another to confirm him 
 in the resolution he had taken. He says, in a 
 letter to Bartram : — 
 
 So far am I from being satisfied with what I have 
 seen, or discouraged by the fatigues which every 
 traveller must submit to, that I feel more eager than 
 ever to commence some more extensive expedition, 
 where scenes and subjects, entirely new and gene- 
 rally unknown, might reward my curiosity ; and 
 where, perhaps, my humble acquisitions might add 
 something to the stores of knowledge. For all the 
 hazards and privations incident to such an undertak- 
 ing, I feel confident in my own spirit and resolution. 
 With no family to enchain my affections; no ties 
 but those of friendship ; with the most ardent love 
 to my adopted country ; with a constitution which 
 hardens amidst fatigues ; and with a disposition 
 sociable and open, which can find itself at home by 
 an Indian fire in the depth of the woods, as well as 
 in the best apartment of the civilized ; for these, 
 and some other reasons that invite me away, I am 
 determined to become a traveller. 
 
 W r ilson now employed his leisure hours in per- 
 fecting himself in drawing and coloring. He 
 also practised the art of etching, and endeavored 
 to engage his friend Lawson* in his projected 
 
 * Alexander Law=on was born at Lanark, Scotland, in 1773. 
 At the age of sixteen he removed to Manchester. He early 
 developed a taste for his futnre pursuit, commencing, after fill- 
 ing bis copy-books with sketches, by engraving on smooth 
 pennies with the point of a knife. He next employed a black- 
 
ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 
 547 
 
 publication on American Ornithology, but with- 
 out success. Obstacles did not, however, change 
 his purpose.- He declared his intention to go on, 
 though the effort cost him his life. ' k If so," he 
 said, " I shall at least leave a small beacon to 
 point out where I perished." He wrote to Jef- 
 ferson in 1806, requesting employment in the ex- 
 peditions fitting out for the survey of the western 
 territory. No reply was received to the applica- 
 tion ;* but private enterprise was now about to 
 furnish the means for the execution of his long 
 cherished project. William Bradford, the pub- 
 lisher, of Philadelphia, engaged Wilson to super- 
 intend a new edition of Reel's Cyclopaedia, which 
 he was desirous of issuing. The liberal salary 
 which he paid enabled his editor to abandon the 
 drudgery of school-keeping, and devote himself 
 to this work, which progressed so well in his 
 hands that the publisher agreed to undertake the 
 Ornithology. He worked so unremittingly in 
 preparing for the press that his health began to 
 fail. As a relaxation, he undertook a pedestrian 
 excursion through Pennsylvania in August, 1807, 
 from which he returned with new vigor to the 
 desk. 
 
 The first of the nine volumes contemplated was 
 published in September, 1808, the edition consist- 
 ing of only two hundred copies. The plates 
 were engraved by Lawson. In the same month, 
 the author set out for the eastward to procure 
 subscribers. His letters record the various modes 
 of reception he encountered. 
 
 I have (he writes) purposely avoided saying 
 any tiling, either good or bad, on the encourage- 
 ment I have met with. I shall only say, that among 
 the many thousands that have examined my book — 
 and among these were men of the first character for 
 taste and literature — I have heard nothing but ex- 
 pressions of the highest admiration and esteem. If 
 1 have been mistaken in publishing a work too good 
 for the country, it. is a fault not likely to be soon 
 repcate 1, and will pretty severely correct itself. 
 But, whatever may be tiie result of these matters, I 
 shall not sit down with folded hands, whilst any 
 thing can be done to carry my point, since God helps 
 them who help themselves. I am fixing corres- 
 pondents in every corner of these northern regions, 
 like so many pickets and out-posts ; so that scarcely 
 a wen or lit shall be able to pass along from York 
 to Canada but I shall gut intelligence of it. 
 
 ********* 
 T spent nearly the whole of Saturday in New- 
 ark, where my bonk attracted as many starers as a 
 bear or a mammoth would have done ; and I arrived 
 
 smith to imkc him a graver from his description of the tool, 
 and amused himself as lie drank his ale of an evening, io orna- 
 menting the pewter tankard. Thirty-six years after his re- 
 moval to the United States, he heard a traveller speak of hav- 
 ing been shown this tankard by the innkeeper of the house he 
 then frequented. At the aire of twenty he emigrated to Ame- 
 rica, and established himself in Philadelphia. His plates for 
 Wilson form his chief work. 
 
 * '■ How often," says Audubon, speaking of his own recep- 
 tion at Washington, " did I think of the error committed by 
 Wilson, when, instead of going to Washington and presenting 
 himself to President Jefferson, he forwarded his application 
 through an uncertain medium. He, like myself, would doubt- 
 less have been received with favor, and obtained his desire. 
 How often have 1 thought of the impression his piercing eye 
 ■would have made on the discriminating and learned President, 
 to whom, in half the time necessary for reading a letter, he 
 might have said six times as much as it contained. But, alas 1 
 "Wilson, instead of presenting himself, sent a substitute, which 
 it seems was not received by the President, and which, there- 
 fore, could not have answered the intended end."" 
 
 in New York the same evening. The next day, I 
 wrote a number of letters, enclosing copies of the 
 prospectus to different gentlemen in town. In the 
 afternoon of Tuesday, I took my book, and waited 
 on each of those gentlemen to whom I had written 
 the preceding day. Among these I found some 
 friends, but more admirers. The professors of Co- 
 lumbia College expressed much esteem for my per- 
 formance. The professor of languages, being a 
 Scotchman, and also a Wilson, seemed to feel all the 
 pride of national partiality so common to his country- 
 men; and would have done me any favour in his 
 power. I spent the whole of this week traversing 
 the streets, from one particular house to another, 
 till, I believe, I became almost as well known as the 
 public crier, or the clerk of the market, for I could 
 frequently perceive gentlemen point me out to 
 others, as I passed with my book under my arm. 
 
 On reaching' Hartford, I waited on Mr. G. a 
 member of Congress, who recommended me to seve- 
 ral others, particularly Mr. W., a gentleman of taste 
 and fortune, who was extremely obliging. The pub- 
 lisher of a newspaper here expressed the highest 
 admiration of the work, and has since paid many 
 handsome compliments to it in his publication, as 
 three other editors did in New York. This is a species 
 of currency that will neither purchase plates, nor 
 pay the printer ; but, nevertheless, it is gratifying 
 to the vanity of an author, — when nothing better 
 can be got. 
 
 I travelled on through New Hampshire, stopping 
 at every place where I was likely to do any busi- 
 ness ; and went as far east as Portland, in Maine, 
 where I staid three days; and, the supreme court 
 being then sitting, I had an opportunity of seeing 
 and conversing with people from the remotest boun- 
 daries of the United States in this quarter, and re- 
 ceived much interesting information from them with 
 regard to the birds that frequent these northern 
 regions. From Portland, I directed my course 
 across the country, among dreary, savage glens, and 
 mountains covered with pines and hemlocks, amid 
 whose black and half burnt trunks, the everlasting 
 rocks and stones, that cover this country, "grinned 
 horribly." One hundred and fifty-seven miles 
 brought me to Dartmouth College, New Hampshire, 
 on the Vermont line. Here I paid my addresses to 
 the reverend fathers of literature, and met with a 
 kind and obliging reception. Dr. Wheelock, the 
 President, made me eat at his table, and the profes- 
 sors vied with each other to oblige me. 
 
 I expect to be in Albany in five days; and, if 
 the legislature be sitting, I shall be detained perhaps 
 three days there. In eight days more, I hope to be 
 in Philadelphia. I have laboured with the zeal of 
 a knight-errant, in exhibiting this book of mine, 
 wherever I went, travelling with it, like a beggar 
 with his bantling, from town to town, and from one 
 country to another. I have been loaded with 
 praises, with compliments, and kindnesses, — shaken 
 almost to pieces in stage coaches ; I have wandered 
 among strangers, hearing the same O's and Ah's, and 
 telling the same story, a thousand times over: and 
 for what ? Ay, that's it! You are very anxious to 
 know, and you shall know the whole when I reach 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 During the winter he continued his tour south- 
 ward. 
 
 In Annapolis I passed my book through both 
 houses of the legislature ; the wise men of Maryland 
 stared and gaped, from bench to bench ; but, having 
 never heard of such a thing as one hundred and 
 twenty dollars for a book, the ai/cs for subscribing 
 were none ; and so it was unanimously determined 
 
548 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 in the negative. Nowise discouraged by this sage 
 decision, I pursued my route through the' tobacco 
 fields, sloughs, and swamps of this illiterate comer 
 of the State to "Washington, distant thirty-eight 
 miles ; and in my way opened fifty-live gates. I 
 was forewarned that I should meet with many of 
 these embarrassments, and I opened twenty-two of 
 them with all the patience and philosophy I could 
 muster ; but when 1 still found them coining thicker 
 and faster, my patience and philosophy both aban- 
 doned me, and I saluted every new gate (which 
 obliged me to plunge into the mud to open it) with 
 perhaps less Christian resignation than I ought to 
 have done. The negroes there are very numerous, 
 and must wretchedly clad : their whole covering, in 
 many instances, assumes the appearance of neither 
 coat" waistcoat, nor breeches, but a motley mass of 
 coarse, dirty woollen rags, of various colours, 
 gathered up about them. When I stopped at some 
 of the negro huts to inquire the road, both men and 
 women huddled up their filthy bundles of rags 
 around them, with both arms, in order to cover their 
 nakedness, and came out, very civilly, to shew me 
 the way. 
 
 I mentioned to you in my last, that the streets 
 of Norfolk were in a most disgraceful state ; but I 
 was informed, that, some time before, they had been 
 much worse ; that at one time, the news-carrier de- 
 livered his papers from a boat, which he poled along 
 through the mire ; and that a party of sailors, hav- 
 ing nothing better to do, actually launched a ship's 
 long boat, into the streets, rowing along with four 
 oars through the mud, while one stood at the bow, 
 heaving the lead, and singing out the depth. 
 
 The general features of North Carolina, where I 
 crossed it, are immense, solitary pine savannas, 
 through which the road winds among stagnant 
 ponds, swarming with alligators, dark, sluggish i 
 creeks, of the colour of brandy, over which are 
 thrown high wooden bridges, without railings, and ( 
 so crazy and rotten, as not only to alarm one's horse, I 
 but also the rider, and to make it a matter of thanks- 
 giving with both, when they get fairly over, without 
 going through ; enormous cypress swamps, which, 
 to a stranger, have a striking, desolate, and ruinous 
 appearance. Picture to yourself a forest of pro- 
 digious trees, rising, as thick as they can grow, from 
 a vast, fiat, and impenetrable morass, covered for ten j 
 feet from the ground with reeds. The leafless limbs j 
 of the cypresses are clothed with an extraordinary ! 
 kind of moss, (Tillandsia Uhneoides,) from two to ten 
 feet long, in such quantities that fifty men might 
 conceal themselves in one tree. Nothing in this 
 country struck me with such surprise as the prospect 
 of several thousand acres of such timber, loaded, as 
 it were, with many million tons of tow, waving in 
 the wind. I attempted to penetrate several of these 
 6wamps with my gun, in search of something new ; 
 but, except in some chance places, I found it al- 
 together impracticable. 1 coasted along their bor- 
 ders, how ever, in many places, and was surprised at 
 the great profusion of evergreens, of numberless 
 sorts, and a variety of berries that I knew nothing 
 of. Here I found multitudes of birds, that never 
 wintered with us in Pennsylvania, living in abun- 
 dance. 
 
 From Wilmington I rode through solitary pine 
 savannas and cypress swamps as before, sometimes 
 thirty miles without seeing a hut or human being. 
 On arriving at the "Waekamaw, Pedee, and Black 
 River, I made long zigzags among the rich nabobs, 
 who live on their rice plantations, amidst large vil- 
 lages of negro huts. One of these gentlemen told 
 me that he had " something better than six hundred 
 head of blacks !" 
 
 Returning with a few subscribers, three hundred 
 additional copies were struck off. Volume II. 
 appeared in January, 1810, and the author, having 
 seen it through the press, set out on a tour down 
 the Ohio and Mississippi in quest of new mate- 
 rials and new subscribers. After consultation at 
 Pittsburgh, he decided to make the descent of the 
 river in a small open skiff, a mode which, though 
 perilous, recommended itself on the score of eco- 
 nomy and freedom of action. He embarked alone 
 on the 24th of February, and writes to his friend, 
 Lawson — 
 
 My stock of provisions consisted of some biscuit 
 and cheese, and a bottle of cordial, presented me by 
 a gentleman of Pittsburg ; my gun, trunk, and great 
 coat occupied one end of the boat ; I had a small tin, 
 occasionally to bale her, and to take my beverage 
 from the Ohio with ; and, bidding adieu to the 
 smoky confines of Pitt, I launched into the stream, 
 and soon winded away among the hills that every 
 where enclose this noble river. The weather was 
 warm and serene, and the river, like a mirror, except 
 where floating masses of ice spotted its surface, and 
 which required some care to steer clear of; hut 
 these, to my surprise, in less than a day's sailing, 
 totally disappeared. Far from being concerned at 
 my new situation, I felt my heart expand with joy 
 at the novelties which surrounded me ; I listened 
 with pleasure to the whistling of the red bird on the 
 banks as I passed, and contemplated the forest 
 scenery, as it receded, with increasing delight. The 
 smoke of the numerous sugar camps, rising lazily 
 among the mountains, gave great effect to the vary- 
 ing landscape ; and the grotesque log cabins, that 
 here and there opened from the woods, were 
 diminished into mere dog-houses by the sublimity 
 of the impending mountains. If you suppose to 
 yourself two parallel ranges of forest-covered hills, 
 whose irregular summits are seldom more than three 
 or four miles apart, winding through an immense 
 extent of country, and enclosing a river half a mile 
 wide, which alternately washes the steep declivity 
 on one side, and leaves a rich, forest-clad bottom on 
 the other, of a mile or so in breadth, you will have 
 a pretty correct idea of the appearance of the Ohio. 
 The banks of these rich flats are from twenty to 
 sixty and eighty feet high ; and even these last were 
 within a few feet of being overflowed in December, 
 1808. 
 
 I' now stripped with alacrity to my new avoca- 
 tion. The current went about two and a half miles 
 an hour, and I added about three and a half miles 
 more to the boat's way with my oars. 
 
 I rowed twenty odd miles the first spell, and 
 found I should be able to stand it perfectly well. 
 About an hour after night, I put up at a miserable 
 cabin, fifty-two miles from Pittsburg, where I slept 
 on what I supposed to be corn stalks, or something 
 worse ; so, preferring the smooth bosom of the Ohio 
 to this brush heap, I got up long before day, and. 
 being under no apprehension of losing my way, I 
 again pushed out into the stream. The landscape 
 on each side lay in one mass of shade ; but the gran- 
 deur of the projecting headlands and vanishing 
 points, or lines, was charmingly reflected in the 
 smooth glassy surface below. I could only discover 
 when I was passing a clearing by the crowing of 
 cocks, and now and then, in more solitary places, 
 the big-horned owl made a most hideous hollowing, 
 that echoed among the mountains. In this lonesome 
 manner, with full leisure for observation and reflec- 
 tion, exposed to hardships all day, and hard berths 
 all night, to storms of rain, hail, and snow, — for it 
 froze severely almost every night, — I persevered, 
 
ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 
 549 
 
 from the 21th of February to Sunday evening, 
 March 17, when I moored my skiff safely in Bear 
 Grass Creek, at therapids of the Ohio, after a voy- 
 age of seven hundred and twenty miles. 
 
 It was during: this descent of the Ohio that he 
 wrote the poem of the Pilgrim. From Louisville 
 he made his way to Nashville, and thence through 
 the Indian country to Natchez. 
 
 A pleasant incident of his journey was his 
 treatment by" a planter named Dunbar, residing 
 near Nashville, who, hearing that he was in the 
 vicinity, addressed him the following letter : — 
 
 Sir, — It is very unfortunate that I should be so 
 much indisposed as to be confined to my bed-room ; 
 nevertheless, I cannot give up the idea of having 
 the pleasure of seeing you, as soon as you find it 
 convenient. The perusal of your first volume of 
 Ornithology, lent me by General Wilkinson, lias pro- 
 duced in me a very great desire of making your 
 acquaintance. 
 
 1 understand from my boy, that you propose 
 going, in a few days, to New Orleans, where you 
 will see some small cabinets of natural history that 
 may interest you. But, as I presume it is your in- 
 tention to prosecute your inquiries into the interior 
 of our country, this cannot be done better than from 
 my house as your head-quarters, where every thing 
 wdl be made convenient to your wishes. My house 
 stands literally in the forest, and your beautiful 
 orioles, with other elegant birds, are our court-yard 
 companions. 
 
 The bearer attends you with a couple of horses, 
 on the supposition that it may be convenient for 
 you to visit us to-day ; otherwise, he shall wait on 
 you any other day that you shall appoint. 
 I am respectfully, die. 
 
 William Dunbar. 
 
 Forest, 26th Hay, 1S10. 
 
 Wilson accepted the invitation, and found the 
 reality fully equal to the promise. He returned 
 to Philadelphia on the second of August, after a 
 seven mouths' tour, during which he had ex- 
 pended only four hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 Several amusing incidents, as might naturally 
 be expected, occurred during these and several 
 other canvassing tours at a later period, for sub- 
 scriptions of $120 each. Not only were private 
 collectors rare in those days, but public libraries 
 were few and generally poor. At Haverhill, NIL, 
 he was arrested in 1812 as a spy from Canada, 
 taking sketches for the use of an anticipated 
 British invasion, and brought before a magistrate, 
 by whom he was promptly released. In 1812, 
 lie was made a member of the American Philo- 
 sophical Society. He resided for a great portion 
 of this and the previous year with his friend, Mr. 
 Bartram, at the Botanic Garden, and at this con- 
 genial and delightful residence made rapid pro- 
 gress in his work. The seventh volume was 
 published in the early part of 1813. The author's 
 anxiety to complete his work induced him, in 
 consequence of the difficulty of finding competent 
 artists lo color his plates, to undertake the work 
 himself, in addition to his usual severe literary 
 labors, which were crowded so far into the 
 night as to deprive him of his necessary rest. 
 The unavoidable result was impaired health. His 
 friends remonstrated, but his reply, was, " Life is 
 short, and without exertion nothing can be per- 
 formed." In his last letter, written about this | 
 
 time, to Paisley, he says, " T am, myself, far from 
 being in good health. Intense application to 
 study has hurt me much. My eighth volume is 
 now in the press, and will be published in No- 
 vember. One volume more will complete the 
 whole." The last sentence shows the object on 
 which his heart was fixed. Until that " :>no 
 volume" was out of the printer's hands, there 
 was no hope of any relaxation of his labor. 
 While his health was thus impaired by sedentary 
 toil, it is said that he chanced one day to notice 
 a bird of some rare species, of winch he had long 
 "been in search. He snatched his gun, ran out, 
 and swam a river in pursuit of his prey, which 
 he secured, but caught a cold which led to a dy- 
 sentery. Whether this incident, which is related 
 on the authority of " one of Wilson's American 
 friends, who visited Scotland some years ago," in 
 the life prefixed to the reprint of the Ornithology 
 in Constable's Miscellany, is. authentic or not, it is 
 certain that Wilson was attacked by dysentery, 
 which, notwithstanding the efforts. of the best 
 physicians of the country, caused his death on 
 the 23d of August, 1813. His remains were in- 
 terred, with great respect, in the Swedish burial- 
 ground, Southwark. During his health he had 
 expressed a wish that he might be buried " where 
 the birds might sing over his grave." Had this 
 wish been known to the friends who superin- 
 tended his funeral it would have been more fully 
 complied with, than by a grave within city 
 limits. 
 
 The eighth volume was nearly through the 
 press when the author's death occurred. The 
 remaining portion was edited by his friend, 
 George Ord, who wrote the letter-press of the 
 ninth and last volume. Both appeared in 1814, 
 with the illustrations, which had all been prepared 
 under Wilson's supervision, prior to his death. 
 Mr. Ord had been Wilson's 'assistant in several 
 of his rambles, anil was well qualified to complete 
 his work. He accompanied the volume with a 
 life of its author. 
 
 In 1825, Mr. Ord prepared a new edilion of the 
 last three volumes of the Ornithology, and, in 
 1828, four supplementary volumes by Charles 
 Lucieu Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, were pub- 
 lished, the first of which was prepared for the 
 press by John D. Godman, and the three last by 
 William Cooper. The entire work was reprinted 
 in 1831, in four volumes of Constable's Miscel- 
 lany, with a life of the author by W. M. Ilethe- 
 riugton. 
 
 The poems of Wilson reflect his sympathies, 
 his sensibilities, his love of humorous observation 
 among men ; as his prose, with its quick lively 
 step and minute discrimination, so freshly pictures 
 the animal world. In his humor and feeling 
 Wilson, as a poet, belongs to the family of Burns. 
 He addresses his friends in verse with the old 
 loving feeling of Scottish brotherhood, has his 
 song for love and beauty, and his similar choice 
 of subject in ludicrous tale or ballad, with a 
 smarting sense of wrong and poverty; while an 
 early observation, in natural history, and his pur- 
 suit of descriptive poetry, belong .especially to 
 Wilson the naturalist. In Scotland he- described 
 the Disconsolate Wren, the beauties of Lochwin- 
 nock, and the wonderful young scholar Ringan ; 
 as, in America, he afterwards wrote his verses on 
 
550 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 
 the Blue Bird, sketched the Pennsylvania!! scenery 
 of the Foresters, and celebrated the Solitary 
 Tutor on the Schuylkill. 
 
 In that fine descriptive poem of the Foresters, 
 in which he describes an October journey through 
 Pennsylvania, and across the Alleghanies from 
 Philadelphia to Niagara, the reader may have a 
 true enjoyment of his poetic tastes and of his 
 ardent love of nature and adventure. The three 
 travellers, Wilson, his friend, and nephew, set 
 forth on foot, well provided with knapsack and 
 fowling-piece, and with a stock of youth and good 
 humor, to overcome the difficulties of the way. 
 The poet, who became thoroughly endenizened in 
 America, has this opening appeal for the themes 
 of American song, with a generously overdone 
 compliment to Humphreys. 
 
 To Europe's shores renowned in deathless song, 
 Must all the honours of the bard belong ? 
 And rural Poetry's enchanting strain 
 Be only heard beyond the Atlantic main ? 
 What though profuse in many a patriot's praise, 
 We boast a Barlow's soul-exalting lays ; 
 An Humphreys, blessed with Homer's nervous glow ; 
 And freedom's friend and champion in Freneau ; 
 Yet Nature's charms that bloom so lovely here, 
 Unbailed arrive, unheeded disappear ; 
 While bare bleak heaths, and brooks"of half a mile 
 Can rouse the thousand bards of Britain's isle. 
 There scarce a stream creeps down its narrow bed, 
 There scarce a hillock lifts its little head, 
 Or humble hamlet peeps their glades among 
 But lives and murmurs in immortal song; 
 Our western world, with all its matchless floods, 
 Our vast transparent lakes and boundless woods, 
 Stamped with the traits of majesty sublime, 
 Unhonoured weep the silent lapse of time, 
 Spread their wild grandeur to the unconscious skv, 
 In sweetest seasons pass unheeded by; 
 While scaree one Muse returns the songs the}' gave, 
 Or seeks to 6natch their glories from the grave. 
 
 The rural descriptions are highly felicitous, as 
 in this sketch of the farm scenery of Bucks and 
 the boor of Northampton. 
 
 Thus half the day 
 O'er hill and dale our stretching journey lay, 
 Through fertile Bucks,* where lofty barns abound, 
 For wheat, fair Quakers, eggs, and fruit renowned ; 
 Full fields, snug tenements, and fences neat, 
 Wide spreading walnuts drooping o'er each gate ; 
 The spring-house peeping from enclustering trees, 
 Gay gardens filled with herbs, and roots and bees, 
 Where quinces, pears, and clustering grapes were 
 
 seen, 
 With ponderous calabashes bung between ; 
 While orchards, loaded, bending o'er the grass, 
 Invite to taste and cheer us as we pass. 
 But these too soon give place to prospects drear, 
 As o'er Northampton's! barren heights we steer; 
 Bleak bind of stones, deep swamps, and pigmy 
 
 woods, 
 Where the poor Swabian o'er his drudgerv broods ; 
 Toils hard ; and when the heats of harvest burn, 
 
 * The County of Bucks, in Pennsylvania, is a rich, well-cul- 
 tivated tract of country, containing nearly half a million of 
 acres, and upwards of 8u,()00 inhabitants. 
 
 t Northampton is an oblong hilly county, adjoining that of 
 Bucks. It is crossed nearly at right angles by that remarkable 
 range of the Allegany known by the name of the Blue Eidge 
 or Blue Mountain, which presents the appearance of an im- 
 mense rampart, extending farther than the eye can reach, with 
 an almost uniform height of summit. 
 
 Gleans from the rocks his pittance in return. 
 
 Yet though so cursed his soil, his sheaves so few, 
 
 All-conquering Industry still bears him through; 
 
 Averse to change, pleased patiently to plod 
 
 The same dull round his honest father trod. 
 
 Behold his low roofed hut tin yonder green, 
 
 There no gay front or proud piazza's seen ; 
 
 Let wealthy fools their precious hoards disburse, 
 
 No whim can tempt him to untie his purse. 
 
 A moss-grown penthouse shades his narrow door, 
 
 One window joins with patches covered o'er; 
 
 Around the garden numerous hives are ranged, 
 
 And pendant gourds to fading yellow changed. 
 
 Sheds, smoke-bouse, hog pens, crowd the miry yard. 
 
 Where endless yells from growling pigs are heard. 
 
 Approach this humble hut; look in, nor fear; 
 
 Say, could Ambition find one comfort here? 
 
 Yet sweet Content e'en here is sometimes found, 
 
 Turning the wheel, or slumbering by its sound. 
 
 No mirrors dazzle, no rich beds appear, 
 
 Wide wasting Fashion never entered here. 
 
 Those plates of pewter, ranged along the frame, 
 
 In ancient days from distant Teuchlaud came. 
 
 That oaken table, so uncouth and low, 
 
 Stood where it stands some sixty years ago. 
 
 In this arm chair where Hans delights to snore, 
 
 His great-grandfather nodded long before. 
 
 Thus glows his greasy stove throughout the year, 
 
 The torrid zone for. ever rages here. 
 
 Here, when the shades of weary evening fall, 
 
 Sits Hans, the lord and sovereign of all ; 
 
 Das Neue Callender* from the nail unhooks, 
 
 His dark brows solemn and morose his looks ; 
 
 Beside his lamp, with spectacles on nose, 
 
 To-morrow's weather seeks, its rains or snows, 
 
 The moon's eventful signs, th' auspicious hour 
 
 To plant the downward root or rising flower; 
 
 Of witch-confounding doctors tells the tale, 
 
 Sips his metheglin, or his cider stale. 
 
 All other joys for which he ever sighs 
 
 His dear loved saur-eraut or his pipe supplies. 
 
 With the schoolmaster, the honor of his pur- 
 suits and his inglorious trials, Wilson always had 
 a keen sympathy. He has introduced in this 
 poem an appeal which deserves to be printed for 
 gratuitous circulation in every village or school 
 district in the country. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 Of all professions that this world has known, 
 From clowns and cobblers upwards to the throne; 
 From the grave architect of Greece and Rome, 
 Down to the framer of a farthing broom, 
 The worst for care and undeserved abuse, 
 The first in real dignity and use, 
 (If skilled to teach, and diligent to rule) 
 Is the learned master of a little school, 
 Not he who guides the legs, or skills the clown 
 To square his fist, and knock his fellow down ; 
 Not he who shows the still more barbarous art 
 To parry thrusts, and pierce the unguarded heart ; 
 But that good man, who, faithful to his charge, 
 Still toils the opening reason to enlarge ; 
 And leads the growing mind, through every stage, 
 From humble A, B, C, to God's own page ; 
 From black, rough pothooks, horrid to tile sight, 
 To fairest lines that float o'er purest wddte ; 
 From Numeration, through an opening way, 
 Till dark Annuities seem clear as dav ; 
 Pours o'er the mind a flood of mental light, 
 Expands its wings, and gives it powers for flight, 
 
 * The New Almanac. 
 
ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 
 551 
 
 Till earth's remotest bound, and heaven's bright train 
 He trace, weigh, measure, picture, and explain. 
 
 If such his toils, sure honour and regard. 
 And wealth and fame shall be his dear reward; 
 Sure every tongue will utter forth his praise, 
 And blessings gild the evening of his days! 
 Yes — blest indeed, by cold ungrateful scorn, 
 With study pale, by daily crosses worn, 
 Despised by those who to his labour owe 
 All that they read, and almost all they know. 
 Condemned, each tedious day, such cares to bear 
 As well might drive e'en Patience to despair ; 
 The partial parent's taunt — the idler dull — 
 Tile blockhead's dark impenetrable scull — 
 The endless round of A, B, C's whole train, 
 Repeated o'er ten thousand times in vain, 
 Placed on a point, the object of each sneer, 
 His faults enlarge, his merits disappear ; 
 If mild — " Our lazy master loves his ease, 
 The boys at school do anything they please." 
 If rigid — " He's a cross hard-hearted wretch, 
 He drives the children stupid with his birch. 
 My child, with gentle means, will mind a breath ; 
 But frowns and flogging frighten him to death." 
 Do as lie will his conduct is arraigned,. 
 And dear the little that he gets is gained; 
 E'en that is given him, on the quarter day, 
 With looks that call it — money thrown away. 
 Just Heaven ! who knows the unremitting care 
 And deep solicitude that teachers share, 
 If such their fate, by thy divine control, 
 give them health and fortitude of soul! 
 Souls that disdain the murderous tongue of Fame, 
 And strength to make the sturdiest of them tame; 
 Grant this, ye powers! to dominies distrest, 
 Their sharp-tailed hickories will do the rest. 
 
 In contrast with the Dutch boor of Northamp- 
 ton we may present the pleasing sketch of hospi- 
 tality on. the Susquehanna, with its eloquent tri- 
 bute to the genius of the scene. 
 
 AT nOME ON THE SUSQUEnANNA. 
 
 Now up green banks, through level fields of grass, 
 With heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass 
 Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fired, 
 And warriors brave by savage hands expired; 
 Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew, 
 Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few; 
 While screams of horror pierced the midnight wood,* 
 And the dire axe drank deep of human blood, 
 Obscured with mud, and drenched with soaking rain, 
 Through pools of splashing mire we drove amain ; 
 Night darke dug round us; when in luckj' hour. 
 Led by its light we readied a cottage door. 
 There welcomed in we blest our happy lot, 
 And all the drudgery of the day forgot. 
 A noble fire its blazing front displa3 T ed, 
 Clean shelves of pewter dazzling round arrayed, 
 Where rows of ruddy apples, ranged with care, 
 With grateful fragrance filled the balmy air; 
 Our bard (chief orator in times like these,) 
 Though frank, yet diffident, and fond to please, 
 In broken German joked with all around, 
 Told who we were, from whence and whither bound; 
 
 * The massacre here alluded to took place after the battle of 
 3d July, 1778. which was fought near this spot. The small 
 body of American troops were commanded by that brave, hu- 
 mane, and intelligent officer, Colonel Butler; the tories and 
 savages were headed by another Colonel Butler, of a very dif- 
 ferent description. Were I disposed to harrow up the feelings 
 of the reader, I might here enlarge on the particulars of this 
 horrible affair ; but I choose to decline it. Those who wish to 
 see a detail of the whole are referred to the Philadelphia Uni- 
 versal Magazine for March 20, 1707, p. 391). 
 
 The cottage group a ready opening made, 
 And " welcome friends," the little Dutchman said. 
 Well pleased our guns and knapsacks we resigned, 
 The adjoining pump, or running stream to find; 
 There washed our boots, and entering, took our seat, 
 Stript to the trowsers in the glowing heat. 
 The mindful matron spread her table near. 
 Smoking with meat, and tilled with plenteous cheer ; 
 And supper o'er, brought forth and handed round 
 A massy .bowl with mellow apples crowned; 
 For all our wants a mother's care exprest, 
 And pressed us oft, and picked us out the best ; 
 But Duncan smiled, and slyly seemed to seek 
 More tempting fruit in Susan's glowing cheek, 
 Where such sweet innocence and meekness lay 
 As fairly stole our pilot's heart away. 
 He tried each art the evening to prolong. 
 And cheered the passing moments with a song, 
 So sadly tender, with such feeling raised, 
 That all but Susan with profusion praised ; 
 She from his glance oft turned her glistening eye. 
 And paid in tears and many a stifled sigh. 
 
 Thus passed the evening charmingly away, 
 Each pleased and pleasing, innocent and gay, 
 Till early bed-time summoned us to part, 
 And Susan's glances spoke her captive heart. 
 
 Swift flew the night, in soundest sleep enjoyed, 
 By dawn we start and find all hands employed; 
 The wheel, the cards, by fire-light buzzing go; 
 The careful Inother kneads her massy dough; 
 Even little Mary at her needle sits, 
 And while she nurses pussy, nicely knits. 
 Our generous friends their courtesy bestowed, 
 Refused all price, and pointed out the road ; 
 With kindest wishes bade us all farewell ; 
 What Susau felt, the rising tear could tell. 
 
 Blest Hospitality! the poor man's pride, 
 The stranger's guardian, comforter, and guide, 
 Whose cheering voice and sympathetic eye, 
 Even angels honour as they hover nigh ; 
 Confined (in mercy to our wandering race) 
 To no one country, people, age, or place; 
 But for the homeless and the exiled lives, 
 And smiles the sweeter still the more she gives. 
 O if on earth one spot I e'er can claim, 
 One humble dwelling, even without a name, 
 Do thou, blest spirit! be my partner there, 
 With sons of woe our little all to share ; 
 Beside our fire the pilgrim's looks to see, 
 That swim in moisture as he thinks on thee; 
 To hear his titles of wild woods wandering through ; 
 His ardent blessings as he bids adieu ; 
 Then let the selfish hug their gold divine ! 
 Ten thousand dearer pleasures shall be mine. 
 
 The whole of this poem, with its humorous 
 contrasts of the privations and enjoyments of tho 
 travellers, and ifs truthful pictures of nature and 
 local scenery, is in a very happy vein. If the 
 poet's genius is incapable of adding new glories 
 to Niagara, at the close of the poem, it must pay 
 that act of submission in its inferiority to the 
 great sublime. 
 
 RAB AND KINGAN. — A TALE. 
 
 Pelivcrcd by the author in the Pantheon, Edinburgh, in a 
 debate on the question — "Whether is Diffidence, or tho Al- 
 lurements of Pleasure, the greatest bar to the Progress in 
 Knowledge ?" 
 
 introduction; 
 Hech ! but it's awfu' like to rise up here, 
 Where sic a sight o' learned folks' pows appear I 
 Sae mony piercing een a' fixed on ane, 
 Is maist enough to freeze me to a stane ! 
 
552 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 But it's a mercy — mony thanks to fate, 
 Pedlars are poor, but unco seldom blate. 
 (Speaking to the President.) 
 
 This question, sir, has been right well disputed, 
 And meikle weel-a-wat's been said about it: 
 Ciiiels, that precisely to the point can speak, 
 And gallop o'er lang blauds of kittle Greek, 
 Ha'e seut frae ilka side their sharp opinion, 
 And peeled it up as ane wad peel an ingon.* 
 
 I winna plague you lang wi' my poor spale, 
 But only crave your patience to a tale : 
 By which yell ken on whatna side I'm stannin'. 
 As I perceive your hindmost minute's rinuin'. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 There lived in Fife, an auld, stout, worldly chiel, 
 Wha's stomach kend nae fare but milk and meal ; 
 A wife he had, I think they ea'd her Bell, 
 And twa big sous, ainaist as heigh's himsel'. 
 Rab was a gleg, smart cock, with powdered pash ; 
 Ringan, a slow, feared, bashfu', simple hash. 
 
 Baith to the college gaed. At first spruce Rab, 
 At Greek and Latin, grew a very dab : 
 He beat a' roundabout him, fair and clean, 
 And ilk ane courted him to be their frien'; 
 Frae house to house they harled him to dinner, 
 But cursed poor Ringau for a hum-drum sinner. 
 
 Rab talked now in sic a lofty strain, 
 As though braid Scotland had been a' his ain : 
 He ca'd the kirk the church, the yirth the globe, 
 And changed his name, forsooth, frae Rab to Bob. 
 Whare'er ye met him, flourishing his rung, 
 The haill discourse was murdered wi' his tongue. 
 On friends and faes wi' impudence he set, 
 And rammed his nose in everything he met. 
 
 The college now, to Rab, grew douf and dull, 
 He scorned wi' books to stupify his skull : 
 But whirled to plays and balls, and sic like places, 
 And roared awa' at fairs and kintra races: 
 bent hame for siller frae his mother Bell, 
 And eaft a horse, and rade a race himsel' ; 
 Drank night and day, and syne, when mortal fa', 
 Rowed on the floor, and snored like ony sow; 
 Lost a' his siller wi' some g;imbling sparks, 
 And pawed, for punch, his Bible and his sarks ; 
 'fill, driven at last to own he had eneugh, 
 Gaed hame a' rags to haud his father's plough. 
 
 Poor hum-drum Ringan played anither part, 
 For Ringan wanted neither wit nor art: 
 Of mony a far-aff place he kent the gate ; 
 Was deep, deep learned, but uneo, uneo blate. 
 He kend how mony mile 'twas to the moon, 
 How mony rake wad lave the ocean toom; 
 Where a' the swallows gaed in time of snaw ; 
 What gal's the thunders roar, and tempests blaw; 
 Where lumps o' siller grow aneath the gran', 
 How a' this yirth rows round about the sun; 
 In short, on books sae meikle time he spent, 
 Ye cou'dna speak o' aught, but Ringan kent. 
 
 Sae meikle learning wi' sae little pride, 
 Soon gained the love o' a' the kintra side; 
 And Death, at that time, happening to nip aff 
 The parish minister — a poor dull calf, 
 Ringan was sought — he cou'dna' say them nnv, 
 And there he's preaching at this very day. 
 
 MORAL, 
 
 Now, Mr. President, I think 'tis plain, 
 That youthfu' diffidence is certain gain. 
 
 * The question had been spoken upon both sides before this 
 tale was recited, which was the last opinion given on the de- 
 bate. 
 
 I Instead of blocking up the road to knowledge, 
 ; It guides alike, in commerce or at college; 
 j Struggles the bursts of passion to controul, 
 Feeds all the finer feelings of the soul ; 
 Defies the deep laid stratagems of guile, 
 And gives even innocence a sweeter smile; 
 Ennobles all the little worth we have, 
 And shields our virtue even to the grave. 
 
 How vast the difTrenee, then, between the twain, 
 Since pleasure ever is pursued by pain. 
 Pleasure's a syren, with inviting arms, 
 Sweet is her voice and powerful are her charms ; 
 Lured by her call we tread her flowery ground, 
 I Joy wings our steps and music warbles round; 
 Lulled in her arms we lose the flying hours, 
 And lie embosomed 'midst her blooming bowers, 
 Till — armed with death, she watches our undoing, 
 Stabs while she sings, and triumphs in our ruin. 
 
 CONNEL AND FLORA. — A 80NG. 
 
 Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy maij, 
 Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again ; 
 Alas ! morn returns to revisit our shore ; 
 But Connel returns to his Flora no more ! 
 
 For see on yon mountain, the dark cloud of death, 
 O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on thelieath; 
 ] While bloody and pale, on a far distant shore, 
 He lies to return to his Flora no more. 
 
 Ye light fleeting spirits that glide o'er yon steep, 
 O would ye but waft me across the wild deep; 
 j There fearless I'd mix in the battle's loud roar, 
 1 I'd die with my Connel, and leave him no more ! 
 
 AUCHTEF.TOOL. 
 
 Tune — " One bottle 'more." 
 From the village of Lessly, with a head full of gle?, 
 And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free; 
 Resolved that same evening, as Luna was full, 
 To lodge ten miles distant, in old AuchtertooL 
 
 Through many a lone cottage and farm-house I 
 
 steered, 
 Took their money, and off with my budget I sheered ; 
 The road I explored out without form or rule, 
 Still asking the nearest to old AuchtertooL 
 
 A clown I accosted, inquiring the road, 
 He stared like an idiot, then roared out " Gude G-d, 
 Gin ye're gaun there for quarters ye're surely a fool. 
 For there's nought but starvation in old AuchtertooL" 
 
 Unminding his nonsense, my march I pursued, 
 Till I came to a hill top, where joyful I viewed, 
 Surrounded witli mountains, and many a white poci, 
 The small smoky village of old AuchtertooL 
 
 At length I arrived at the edge of the town, 
 As Phoebus behind a high mountain went down; 
 The clouds gathered dreary, and weather blew foul, 
 And I hugged myself safe now in old AuchtertooL 
 
 An inn I inquired out, a lodging desired. 
 But the landlady's pertness seemed instantly fired ; 
 For she saucy replied, as she sat carding wool, 
 " I ne'er keep sic lodgers in auld AuchtertooL" 
 
 With scorn I soon left her to live on her pride, 
 But asking, was told there was none else beside, 
 Except an old weaver who now kept a school, 
 And these were the whole that were in AuchtertooL 
 
 To his mnnsion I scampered, and rnpt at the door, 
 He op'd, but as soon as I dared to implore, 
 He shut it like thunder, and uttered a howl, 
 That rung through each corner of old AuchtertooL 
 
 Provoked now to fury, the dominie I curst. 
 And offered to cudgel the wretch, if he durst; 
 
ALEXANDER WILSON. 
 
 553 
 
 But the door lie fast bolted, though Boreas blew cool, 
 And left me all friendless in old Auchtertool. 
 
 Deprived of all shelter, through darkness I trod, 
 Till I came to a ruined old house by the road ; 
 Here the night I will spend, and, inspired by the OW;, 
 I'll send up some prayers for old Auchtertool. 
 
 THE BLUE BIRD. — FBOM THE ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 The pleasing manners, and sociable disposition of 
 this little bird, entitle him to particular notice. As 
 one of the first messengers of spring, bringing the 
 charming tidings to our very doors, he bears his own 
 recommendation always along with him, and meets 
 with a hearty welcome from every body. 
 
 Though generally accounted a bird of passage, yet, 
 eo early as the middle of February, if the weather be 
 open, he usually makes his appearance about his old 
 haunts, the barn, orchard, and fence posts. Storms 
 and deep snows sometimes succeeding, he disappears 
 for a time ; but about the middle of March is again 
 seen, accompanied by his mate, visiting the box in 
 the garden, or the hole in the old apple tree, the 
 cradle of some generations of his ancestors. " When 
 he first begins his amours," says a curious and cor- 
 rect observer, " it is pleasing to behold his courtship, 
 his solicitude to please and to secure the favour of 
 his beloved female. He uses the tenderest expres- 
 sipns, sits close by her, caresses and sings to her his 
 most endearing warblings. When seated together, 
 if he espies an insect delicious to her taste, he takes 
 it up, flies with it to her, spreads his wing over her, 
 and puts it in her month."* If a rival makes his 
 appearance, (for they are ardent in their loves,) he 
 quits her in a moment, attacks and pursues the in- 
 truder as he shifts from place to place, in tones that 
 bespeak the jealousy of his affection, conducts him, 
 with many reproofs, beyond the extremities of his ter- 
 ritory, and returns to warble out his transports of 
 triumph beside his beloved mate. The preliminaries 
 being thus settled, and the spot fixed on, they begin 
 to clean out the old nest, and the rubbish of the 
 former year, and to prepare for the reception of their 
 future offspring. Soon after this, another sociable 
 little pilgrim, (motad.lla domestica, house wren,) also 
 arrives from the south, and, finding such a snug berth 
 preoccupied, shows his spite, by watching a conve- 
 nient opportunity, and, in the absence of the owner, 
 popping in and pulling out sticks; but takes special 
 care to make oft* as fast as possible. 
 
 The female lays five, and sometimes six eggs, of a 
 pale blue colour; and raises two, and sometimes 
 three brood in a season ; the male taking the young- 
 est under his particular care while the female is 
 again sitting. Their principal food are insects, par- 
 ticularly large beetles, and other hard-shelled sorts, 
 that lurk among old, dead, and decaying trees. 
 Spiders are also a favourite repast with them. In 
 the fall, they occasionally regale themselves on the 
 berries of the sour gum ; and, as winter approaches, 
 on those of the red cedar, and on the fruit of a rough 
 hairy vine that runs up and cleaves fast to the 
 trunks of trees. Ripe persimmons is another of their 
 favourite dishes, and many other fruits and seeds 
 which I have found in their stomachs at that season, 
 which, being no botanist, I am unable to particu- 
 larize. They are frequently pestered with a species 
 of tape worm, some of which I have taken from their 
 intestines of an extraordinary size, and, in some eases, 
 in great numbers. Most other birds are also plagued 
 with these vermin, but the blue bird seems more 
 subject to them than any I know, except the wood- 
 cock. An account of the different species of vermin, 
 
 * Letter from Mr. William Bartram to the author. 
 
 many of which, I doubt not, are nondescripts, that 
 infest the plumage and intestines of our birds, would 
 of itself form an interesting publication ; but, as this 
 belongs more properly to the entomologist, I shall 
 only, in the course of this work, take notice of some 
 of the most remarkable. 
 
 The usual spring and summer song of the blue-bird 
 is a soft, agreeable, and oft-repeated warble, uttered 
 with open quivering wings, and is extremely pleas- 
 ing. In his motions and general character, he has 
 great resemblance to the robin redbreast of Britain ; 
 and, had he the brown olive of that bird, instead of. 
 his own blue, could scarcely be distinguished from 
 him. Like him, he is known to almost every child ; 
 and shows as much confidence in man by associating 
 with him in summer, as the other by. his familiarity 
 in winter. He is also of a mild and peaceful dispo- 
 sition, seldom fighting or quarrelling with other 
 birds. His society is courted by the inhabitants of 
 the country, and few farmers neglect to provide for 
 him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer- 
 house, ready fitted and re.it free. For this he more 
 than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of 
 his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which 
 he daily destroys. Towards fall, that is in the 
 month of October, his song changes to a single plain- 
 tive note, as he passes over the yellow many-coloured 
 woods; and its melancholy air recalls to our minds 
 the approaching decay of the face of nature. Even 
 after the trees are stript of their leaves, he still lin- 
 gers over his native fields, as if loath to leave thein. 
 About the middle or end of November, few or none 
 of them are seen ; but, with every return of mild and 
 open weather, we hear his plaintive note amidst the 
 fields, or in the air, seeming to deplore the devasta- 
 tions of winter. Indeed, he appears scarcely ever 
 totally to forsake us; but to follow fair weather 
 through all its journeyings till the return of spring. 
 
 Such are the mild and pleasing manners of the 
 bluebird, and so universally is he esteemed, that I 
 have often regretted that no pastoral muse has yet 
 arisen in this western woody world, to do justice to 
 his name, and endear him to us still more by the 
 tenderness of verse, as has been done to his repre- 
 sentative in Britain, the robin redbreast. A small 
 acknowledgment of this kind I have to offer, which 
 the reader, I hope, will excuse as a tribute to rural 
 innocence. 
 
 When winters cold tempests and snows are no 
 more, 
 Green meadows and brown furrow'd fields re-ap- 
 pearing, 
 The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, 
 And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering ; 
 
 When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing, 
 When red glow the maple?, so fresh and so pleasing, 
 
 then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring! 
 And hails with his warblings the charms of the 
 season. 
 
 Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring; 
 Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the wea- 
 ther ; 
 
 The blue woodland flowers just beginning to 
 spring, 
 And spieewood and sassafras budding together: 
 
 O then to your gardens ye housewives repair, 
 Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure ; 
 
 The bluebird will chant from his box such an air, 
 That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure! 
 
 He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, 
 The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blos- 
 soms : 
 
 He snaps up destroyers wherever they be, 
 And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms ; 
 
554 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 He drags the Tile grub from the corn it devours, 
 The worms from the webs, where they riot and 
 welter ; 
 
 His song and his services freely are ours, 
 And all that he asks is — in summer a shelter. 
 
 The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his 
 train, 
 Now searching the furrows — now mounting to cheer 
 him; 
 
 The gard'ner delights in his sweet, simple strain, 
 And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him ; 
 
 The slow ling'ring schoolboys forget they'll be chid, 
 "While gazing intent as he warbles before them 
 
 In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, 
 That each little loiterer seems to adore him. 
 
 When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, 
 And autumn slow enters 60 silent and sallow, 
 
 And millions of warblers, that charm'd us before, 
 Have fled in the train of the sun-seekir.g swallow; 
 
 The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home, 
 Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow, 
 
 Till forced by the horrors of winter to roam, 
 He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow. 
 
 "While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm, 
 The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven, 
 
 Or love's native music have influence to charm, 
 Or sympathy's glow to our feelings are given, 
 
 Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be ; 
 His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure , 
 
 For, through bleakest t forms, if a calm he but see, 
 He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure! 
 
 THE FISH-HAWK. 
 
 This formidable, vigorous-winged, and well known 
 bird, subsists altogether on the finny tribes that 
 swarm in our bays, creeks, and rivers ; procuring his 
 prey by his own active skill and industry; and 
 seeming no farther dependent on the land than as a 
 mere resting place, or, in the usual season, a spot of 
 deposit for his nest, eggs, and young. 
 
 The fish-hawk is migratory, arriving on the coasts 
 of New York and ISew Jersey about the 21st of 
 March, and retiring to the south about the twenty- 
 second of September. Heavy equinoctial storms may 
 vary these periods of arrival and departure a few 
 days; butloi g observation has ascertained, that they 
 are kept with remarkable regularity. On the arri- 
 val of these birds in the northern parts of the United 
 States, in March, they sometimes fi..d the bays and 
 ponds frozen, and experience a difficulty in procuring 
 fish for many days. Yet there is no instance on re- 
 cord of their attacking birds, or inferior land animals, 
 with intent to feed on them ; though their great 
 strength of flight, as well as of feet and claws, would 
 seem to render this no difficult matter. But they no 
 sooner arrive, than they wage war on the bald 
 eagles, as against a horde of robbers and banditti ; 
 sometimes succeeding, by force of numbers, and per- 
 severance, in driving them from their haunts, but 
 6eldom or never attacking them in single combat. 
 
 The first appearance of the fish-hawk in spring, is 
 welcomed by the fishermen, as the happy signal of 
 the approach of those vast shoals of herring, shad, 
 <fec, that regularly arrive on our coasts, and enter 
 our rivers ill such prodigious multitudes. Two of a 
 trade, it is said, seldom agree; the adage, however, 
 will not hold good in the present case, for such is 
 the respect paid the fish-hawk, not only by this class 
 of men, but, generally, by the whole neighbourhood 
 where it resides, that a person who should attempt 
 to shoot one of them, would stand a fair chance of 
 being insulted. This prepossession in favour of the 
 fish-hawk is honourable to their feelings. They 
 
 associate, with its first appearance, ideas of plenty, 
 and all the gaiety of business ; they see it active and 
 industrious like themselves ; inoffensive to the pro- 
 ductions of their farms; building with confidence, 
 and without the least disposition to concealment, in 
 the middle of their fields, and along their fences; 
 and returning, year after year, regularly to its for- 
 mer abode. 
 ******* 
 
 The regular arrival of this noted bird at the vernal 
 equinox, when the busy season of fishing commences, 
 adds peculiar interest to its first appearance, and 
 procures it many a benediction from the fishermen. 
 With the following lines, illustrative of these cir- 
 cumstances, I shall conclude its history : — ■ 
 
 Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year, 
 Bends to our northern climes his bright career, 
 And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep 
 The finny shoals and myriads of the deep; 
 When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride, 
 And day and night the equal hours divide; 
 True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore, 
 The sailing osprey high is seen to soar, 
 With broad unmoviug wing; and, circling slow, 
 Marks each loose straggler in the deep below ; 
 Sweeps down like lightning! plunges with a roar I 
 And bears his struggling victim to the shore. 
 
 The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy, 
 The well known sigi.als of his rough employ; 
 And, as he bears his nets arid oars along, 
 Thus hails the welcome season with a song: — 
 
 THE FISHEEMAN'S HYMN. 
 
 The osprey sails above the sound, 
 
 The geese are gone, the gulls are flying; 
 The herring shoals swarm thick around, 
 
 The nets are launch'd, the boats are plying; 
 Yo ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, 
 
 Raise high the song, and cheerly wish her, 
 Still as the bending net we sweep, 
 
 " God bless the fish-hawk and the, fisher I" 
 
 She brings us fish — she brings us spring. 
 
 Good times, fair weather, warmth, and plenty, 
 Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling, 
 
 Sheepshead and drum, and old-wives' dainty. 
 Yo ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, 
 Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, 
 Still as the bending net we sweep, 
 
 " God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher 1" 
 
 She rears her young on yonder tree. 
 
 She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em ; 
 Like us, for fish, she sails to sea, 
 
 And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em. 
 Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep, 
 Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, 
 While the slow bending net we sweep, 
 " God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher !" 
 
 JOHN EDMUND HAEWOOD. 
 Harwood, the actor, who came over to America 
 with Wignell's company to Philadelphia, in 1793, 
 was a writer of verses of ease and sweetness, a 
 collection of which he published in New York in 
 1809. Dunlnp, in his History of the American 
 Stage, has given some pleading reminiscences of 
 the man in his account of the opening of the New 
 York Theatre in 1803 : — 
 
 " John E. Harwood lias been mentioned in the 
 catalogue of the splendid company brought out 
 to this country in 1793 for Philadelphia. He 
 was a man endowed by nature witli brilliant ta- 
 lents, and had received in every respect the edu- 
 
JOHN EDMUND HARWOOD. 
 
 555 
 
 cation of a gentleman. His Trapanti, Sir David 
 Dunder, Lenitive, Dennis Brulgraddery, Canton, 
 Gradus, Captain Ironsides, and a long list of cha- 
 racters, were superior to any man's, in our opi- 
 nion, yet seen in this country : he was more like 
 John Bannister than any other actor of the Eng- 
 lish stage. His Falstaff was the be-t in this 
 country until Cooke played it, except, — -and it is 
 a most formidable exception, — that it was not 
 sufficiently studied. In truth, self-indulgence was 
 the ruin of Harwood, as of thousands on and off 
 the stage. After his marriage, he had retired 
 from the stage, and kept a bookstore and circu- 
 lating library: this retirement from a profession 
 in which he was qualified to shine was probably 
 not his own choice. He read his books, and 
 neglected his business. Booksellers should never 
 read; if they do, they are lost. There are bril- 
 liant exceptions ; but then they wrote also : they 
 did not read merely fir the gratification of read- 
 ing, or to Mil time, but to gain knowledge, and 
 they exerted themselves to impart it. The vene- 
 rable Matthew Carey is an instance in point. 
 Harwood was a poet, and had in early life pub- 
 lished a volume of verses. He was a man of wit, 
 and the favorite of every company ; never obtru- 
 sive, and always willing to take a joke or to give 
 one. He was lazy, and became corpulent; the 
 first disqualified him for all business, and ren- 
 dered many of his new characters, after he re- 
 turned to the stage, less perfect than they would 
 have been; the second spoiled his appearance 
 and action for high or genteel comedy, for a cor- 
 pulent Michael Perez (and he played it well) 
 should not be placed by the side of Cacofogo. 
 John E. Harwood, off the stage, would have 
 shone as a man of fortune, and he had a wife 
 equally fitted to be a man of fortune's wife ; but 
 as unfit for a poor man's wife as he was for a 
 poor man. The consequence was the return to 
 the stage, which brings him again before the 
 reader." 
 
 Harwood's mood, in the volume of his verses 
 before us, is of a gonial, sentimental character, 
 softly tuned to melancholy at the voice of the 
 nightingale, or the full of the leaf; competent at 
 ode and elegy, and gallantly assisted, in its high- 
 est animation, by the presence of the sex. In an 
 " irregular ode" he rather irreverently speaks of 
 himself as a " dangler on a petticoat ;" a distinc- 
 tion which his constant attentions in verse to 
 Emma, Myra, and other ladies, in their various 
 humors, would seem fully to justify. There was 
 delicacy in his Muse as lie watched the fair ones 
 with a fond affection ; and sang bis amiable songs 
 after the manner of the gentleman of the olden 
 time, in the age which was at its height at the 
 beginning of the century. 
 
 ODE TO rNDOLENCE. 
 
 Goddess of ease ! whose all-lethargic sway 
 
 In drowsy fetters binds the senseless soui, 
 Whose mogic power e'en mighty seas obey, 
 And touch'd by thee in smoother billows roll, 
 At thine approach in summer's scorching heat, 
 The cattle grazing on the verdant plain 
 To some kind shade direct their weary feet, 
 T' enjoy sweet sleep beneath thy placid reign. 
 
 Oh ! take me, Goddess, to thy circling arms, 
 And pour sweet visions o'er my languid head ; 
 
 O'er every thought infuse thy magic charms, 
 And round my pillow all thy poppies spread. 
 What time the wearying sun, no longer bright, 
 Now paints the western sky with streaks of red ; 
 What time the moon extends her glimmering light, 
 And darkening shades advise the tranquil bed; 
 
 What time the shepherds urge to quiet folds, 
 And weary, haste to pen their tardy sheep; 
 What time " the air a solemn stillness holds," 
 And weary nature welcomes balmy sleep ; 
 Oh, waft me, Goddess, to that, peaceful shore 
 Where drowsy silence lulls the quiet mind, 
 Where Strife's discordant voice is heard no more, 
 And sadd'ning thoughts a potent opiate find. 
 Bear me propitious to some fragrant seat, 
 Some couch of nature's sweetest flow'rets made ; 
 While slumbers hover o'er the still retreat, 
 And lull each sense within the languid shade. 
 Ne'er shall ambition's flame awake my breast, 
 Ne'er shall her honors gild my humble name, 
 For glory's votaries be the brass imprest, 
 And let admiring ages learn their fame. 
 
 And if the Mnse afford some latent fire, 
 May the dull couplet run in numbers slow — 
 Do thou a languid heaviness inspire, 
 And bid them, languid as myself, to flow. 
 Soon will the Muse's proudest landscape fade : 
 Soon, soon will death dispel the fleeting joy ; 
 Let not one envious wish disturb this sliade, 
 One weak desire this happy ease destroy. 
 
 And Bacchus, let me not thy orgies share, 
 Far be from me thy quarrel-breeding bowl ; 
 Let not the shouts of drunkards jar iny ear, 
 Nor folly's noise disturb my peaceful soul. 
 Now take me, Goddess, in thy circling arms, 
 And pour soft visions o'er this languid head ; 
 In every thought infuse thy magic charms, 
 And round my pillow peaceful poppies shed. 
 
 TO MISS S Y, ON RETURNING THE JUVENILIA OF WITHER. 
 
 I. 
 
 I thank thee for the simple lay, 
 Upon my memory fixt, 
 Which can such wholesome truths convey. 
 With so much sweetness mixt ; 
 - The sting of censure pleasantness can hide, 
 And. as it spares our pride, 
 It cannot fail to please ; 
 For those most wrong 
 Will love the song, 
 That can rebuke with ease I 
 
 ii. 
 And should I ever be in love, 
 As much I hope to be ! 
 His verse my mistress' faith shall prove, 
 How true she loveth me ; 
 I will not trust the wanton, laughing eye, 
 Of heedless revelry, 
 Nor all the tricks of art; 
 But tears that flow, 
 Perforce for wo, 
 When sorrow melts the heart. 
 
 in. 
 The smile benign when virtue gains 
 A trium] >h over vice ; 
 Heart, like her bosom, free from stains, 
 An earthly paradise ! 
 Though she herself can never, never slide. 
 Too gentle others to deride ; 
 With alabaster hand. 
 Not strctcli'd in show, 
 But to bestow 
 A blessing through the laud. 
 
556 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Not to coquet 'with other men, 
 
 But truly cherish one : 
 
 ily passion to return again, 
 
 And smile on me alone ; 
 
 Though unreserved in discourse, and free, 
 
 Her lips reserved for me ; 
 
 So shall I pleasure prove, 
 
 And find a mate 
 
 To mine estate, 
 
 Full worthy of my love. 
 
 IN A "WOOD. 
 
 Meet Peace here holds her silent reign, 
 
 Along these paths she loves to rove. ; 
 
 Where nought is heard but the sweet strain, 
 
 The feathery songsters pour to love. 
 Sweet partners of the sylvan scene, 
 Ye have not half my love, I ween ! 
 
 Not all that makes the forest ring ; 
 And if ye swell your little throats, 
 With all your softest, sweetest not,3s, 
 
 My love is greater far than ye can sing. 
 
 THE FRIENDS TO THEIR OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 
 
 Ah ! forbear, in mercy, ladies! 
 
 'Tis enough we own your sway ; 
 Neither such a hectoring blade is 
 
 Longer on the field to stay. 
 
 Mark'd by elegance and fashion, 
 
 Not to love were to be blind ; 
 Soon, too soon, the subtle passion 
 
 Chains an inexperienced mind. 
 
 With such dextrous art you wheedle, 
 
 Half-averted looks and smiles, 
 Hearts insnaring with your needle, 
 
 Music, romping, and such wiles. 
 
 Now, while mirth and harmless story 
 
 Stay the lagging foot of time, 
 We, your slaves, who much adore ye, 
 
 Tell our loves in doggrel rhyme. 
 
 Ladies, hear, in pity, hear us ! 
 
 Spare the anguish of each heart ! 
 Yield to love, you need not fear us, 
 
 Few so j'ouug are vers'd in art. 
 
 JOHN QDINCY ADAMS. 
 
 Joitm Quincy, the son of John Adams, was born 
 at the residence of his great-grandfather, John 
 Quiney, in Braintree, Massachusetts, July 11, 1767. 
 He was named John Quiney at the request of his 
 grandmother, after this aged relative, who was 
 dying at the time of his baptism. As his father 
 was absent from home on public affairs the child's 
 education devolved principally on his mother, 
 one every way fitted for her important position. 
 Every day, after saying his prayers, he was re- 
 quired to repeat the noble lines of Collins, com- 
 mencing — 
 
 How sleep the brave who sink to rest, 
 
 and the ode by the same author on the death of 
 Colonel Charles Boss* It was truly said of him 
 
 * This characteristic anecdote of bis childhood was read a 
 few ytars before bis death by Mr. Adams to Mr. Robert C. 
 Winthrop. from a letter which he had just written to John J. 
 Guroey, of England. " He recited the lines,' 1 the narrator 
 says, " with an expression and an energy which I shall never 
 forget — the tears coursing down his cheeks, and his voice, every 
 bow and then, choked with emotion. 1 ' 
 
 by Senator Davis, that " the cradle hymns of the 
 child were the songs of liberty." 
 
 In February, 1778, in his eleventh year, he ac- 
 companied his father on his mission to France. 
 He was placed at school in Paris, where he re- 
 mained until his return with his father after the 
 conclusion of the treaty with America in 1779. 
 "He is respected," writes his father the same 
 year, " wherever he goes for his vigor and viva- 
 city both of mind and body, for his constant 
 good humor, and for his rapid progress in French, ' 
 as well as for his general knowledge, which at 
 his age is uncommon." 
 
 In 1781 he was made private secretary to the 
 Hon. Francis Dana, Minister to Russia. He re- 
 mained at the embassy until October, 1782, when 
 after a short tour he joined his father in Holland, 
 in April, 17S3. After the signature of the treaty 
 of peace at Paris in the following September, he 
 accompanied his father to England. In 1785 he 
 returned home with a letter from his father to 
 Benjamin Waterhouse, in which the son's acquire- 
 ments are spoken of with a just pride : — 
 
 TO BENJAMIN WATERnOFSE. 
 
 Autewil, 24 April, 1785. 
 
 This letter will be delivered you by your old ac- 
 quaintance John Quiney Adams, whom I beg leave 
 to recommend to your attention and favor. He is 
 anxious to study some time at your university be- 
 fore he begins the study of the law, which appears 
 at present to be the profession of his choice. He 
 must undergo an examination, in which I suspect he 
 will not appear exactly what he is. In truth, there 
 are few who take their degrees at college, who have 
 so much knowledge. But his studies having been 
 pursued by himself, on his travels, without any 
 steady tutor, he will be found awkward in speaking 
 Latin, in prosody, in parsing, and even, perhaps, in 
 that accuracy of pronunciation in reading orations 
 or poems in that language, which is often chiefly 
 attended to in such examinations. It seems to be 
 necessary, therefore, that I make this apology for 
 him to you, and request you to communicate it in 
 confidence to the gentlemen who are to examine 
 him, and such others as you think prudent. If you 
 were to examine him in English and French poetry, 
 I know not where you would find anybody his supe- 
 rior; in Roman and English history, few persons of 
 his age. It is rare to find a youth possessed of so 
 much knowledge. He has translated Virgil's jEneid, 
 Suetonius, the whole of Sallust, and Tacitus's Agri- 
 cola, his Germany, and several books of his Annals, 
 a great part of Horace, some of Ovid, and some of 
 Csesar's Commentaries, in writing, besides a number 
 of Tally's orations. These he may show you ; and 
 although you will find the translations in many pla- 
 ces inaccurate in point of style, as must be expected 
 at his age, you will see abundant pruof that it is 
 impossible to make those translations without under- 
 standing his authors and their language very well. 
 
 In Greek his progress has not been equal ; yet he 
 has studied morsels in Aristotle's Poetics, in Plu- 
 tarch's Lives, and Lucian's Dialogues, the choice of 
 Hercules, in Xenophon, and lately he has gone 
 through several books in Homer's Iliad. 
 
 In mathematics I hope he will pass muster. In 
 the course of the last year, instead of playing cards 
 like the fashionable world, I have spent my even- 
 ings with him. We went with some accuracy 
 through the geometry in the Preceptor, the eight 
 books of Simpson's Euclid in Latin, and compared 
 it, problem by problem, and theorem by theorem, 
 
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 
 
 557 
 
 with le pere de Chales in French ; we went through 
 plane trigonometry and plane-sailing, Fenning's Al- 
 gebra, anil the decimal fractions, arithmetical and 
 geometrical proportions, and the conic sections, in 
 Ward's Mathematics. I then attempted a sublime 
 flight, and endeavored to give him some idea of the 
 differential method of calculation of the Marquis de 
 L'Hopit.il, and the method of fluxions and infinite se- 
 ries of Sir Isaac Newton ; but alas! it is thirty years 
 since I thought of mathematics, and I found 1 had 
 lost the little I once knew, especially of these higher 
 branches of geometry, so that he is as yet but a 
 smatterer, like his father. However, he has a foun- 
 dation laid, which will enable him with a year's at- 
 tendance on the mathematical professor, to make 
 the necessary proficiency for a degree. He is stu- 
 dious enough, and emulous enough, and when he 
 comes to mix with his new friends and young com- 
 panions, he will make his way well enough. I hope 
 he will be upon his guard against those airs of supe- 
 riority among the scholars, which his larger ac- 
 quaintance with the world, and his manifest superi- 
 ority in the knowledge of some things, may but too 
 naturally inspire into a young mind, and I beg of 
 you, Sir, to be his friendly monitor in this respect 
 and in all others. 
 
 He was of course prepared for an advanced class 
 at Harvard, and took liis degree in 1787, the year 
 after his admission. The subject of his Com- 
 mencement oration was The Importance and Ne- 
 cessity of Public Faith to the Well-being of a 
 Community . 
 
 Iiv 1790, after preliminary studies in the office 
 of Theophilus Parsons at Newbnryport, lie com- 
 menced the practice of the law, which he con- 
 tinued, varying his occupation by occasional com- 
 munications, signed Publicola and Marcellus, in 
 the Centinel, edited by Benjamin Russell, until 
 his appointment as Minister to the Hague in 1794 
 by Washington, who. in 1797 pronounced him 
 " the most valuable public character we have 
 abroad, and the ablest of all our diplomatic corps." 
 In July of the same year he was married to Louisa, 
 daughter of Joshua Johnson of Maryland, consu- 
 lar agent of the United States at London. lie 
 was soon after recalled by his father on his ac- 
 cession to the presidency. During his residence 
 abroad he made a tour in Silesia. A number of 
 letters, written to his brother during its progress, 
 were published by the latter in the Portfolio, 
 and were collected in a volume by a London 
 publisher in 1804.* The work is 'divided into 
 parts, one of which is devoted to a description, 
 and the other to statistical information respecting 
 the country. 
 
 In 1801 he was elected to the state Senate, and 
 in 1803 a member of the Senate of the United 
 States. In 1808 he resigned his seat in conse- 
 quence of the dissatisfaction of the state legisla- 
 ture with his advocacy of some of the measures 
 of Jefferson's administration. He had previously, 
 in 1806, been appointed Boylston Professor of 
 Rhetoric, in Harvard College, and continued the 
 discharge of his duties until he resigned in 1809. 
 In 1810 he published the lectures he had deli- 
 
 * Letters on Silesia, written during a tour through that 
 country in the years 1SO0, 1801, by liis Excellency John Quincy 
 Adams, then Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States 
 to the Court of Berlin, and since' a member of the American 
 Senate. London: 1804. 8vo. pp. 387. 
 
 vered in his courses.*' In 1810 he was appointed 
 by Madison Minister to Russia, where he re- 
 mained until 1815, when with Clay, Bayard, 
 Russell, and Gallatin he negotiated the treaty of 
 peace with England at Ghent, and was appointed 
 minister to that country in the same year by Ma- 
 dison. In 1817 he returned home, was appointed 
 Secretary of State by Monroe, and remained in 
 office eight years, when he was himself chosen 
 to the presidency by the House of Representa- 
 tives, on whom the choice had devolved. Ho re- 
 mained in office one term, when he was succeeded 
 by General Jackson. He was immediately after 
 elected a member of the House of Representa- 
 tives from his native state, a position which he 
 retained till his death. In 1833 he was nomi- 
 nated by the anti-masonic party as governor of 
 his state. The result of the contest between 
 three candidates threw the election into the 
 Legislature, there being no choice by the people, 
 whereupon Mr. Adams withdrew. He had pre- 
 viously, from 1831 to 1833, published a series of 
 letters condemnatory of the principles and prac- 
 tice of the Free-Masons, reprinted in a volume in 
 1847. Throughout his long and active political 
 career, Mr. Adams retained a fondness for litera- 
 ture. He published in 1832 a long poetical com- 
 position, Dermot Mae Morrogh^ the argument of 
 which is concisely summed up in a sentence of 
 the preface : — 
 
 Dermot Mac Morrogh, for insupportable tyranny 
 over his subjects, aggravated by the violation of the 
 most sacred of human ties, the seduction of another's 
 wife, is justly expelled from his kingdom. He imme- 
 diately repairs to " the greatest prince of his time, 
 for wisdom, virtue and abilities," and sells his coun- 
 try for the price of being restored by the foreign 
 invader to his principality. The English king, to 
 cover the basest of aggressions with the mantle of 
 religion, applies to Pope Adrian the Fourth, an Eng- 
 lishman, for authority to ravage Ireland with fire 
 and sword, under pretence of reforming the inhabit- 
 ants, and reducing them to the orthodox faith of 
 paying tribute to the Roman See. This authority 
 Pope Adrian grants him' without scruple. You may 
 ! read in Rapiu the brief itself. And with this sacri- 
 | legious abuse of religion, Henry, reeking with the 
 blood of Becket, and Dermot, the ruffian builder of 
 monasteries, achieve the conquest of Ireland, in vas- 
 salage to the crown of England. And this is the 
 tenure by which Ireland is held as an appendage to 
 the sister island, at the present day. 
 
 It is written not at all happily, with a tame 
 adaptation of the Don Juan style, and consists of 
 a rhymed chronicle of the events it celebrates. 
 The subject, says the author— 
 
 The subject, was well adapted to the composition 
 of an historical tale, and as such I deliver it to the 
 judgment of ury country. It is intended also as a 
 moral tale, teaching the citizens of these States of 
 both sexes, the virtues of conjugal fidelity, of ge- 
 nuine piety, and of devotion to their country, by 
 pointing the finger of scorn at the example six hun- 
 
 * Lectures on Rhetoric, and Oratory, delivered to the classes 
 of Senior and Junior Sophistors in Harvard University. Cam- 
 bridge : Hilliard & Metcalf. 1810. 
 
 + Dermot Mac Morroirli ; or, the Conquest of Ireland. An 
 Historical Tale of the Twelfth Century, in four cantos. By 
 John Quinev Adams. Boston: Carter", Hendee & Co., 1832. 
 Svo. pp. 10S. 
 
558 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dred years since exhibited of a country sold to a 
 foreign invader by the joint agency of violated mar- 
 riage vows, unprincipled ambition, and religious 
 imposture. 
 
 We extract 
 
 THE BONO. 
 
 Nought shines so bright in beauty's eyes, 
 
 As the bold warrior's gallant bearing: 
 The proudest deems his heart a prize ; 
 
 The fairest would his fate be sharing ; 
 Let Truth, let. Valor be thy guide; 
 
 And faithful love, thy priceless jewel — 
 Thou ne'er shalt lack a lovely bride; 
 
 Nor find a female bosom cruel. 
 
 'Tis true, the soldier's life is short; 
 
 But what is life, depriv'd of action? 
 The craven coward's base resort; 
 
 A universe, without attraction. 
 Then, urge thy courser to the field, 
 
 And thou slialt gain renown in story — 
 Compel the fiercest foe to yield ; 
 
 Or die upon the bed of glory. 
 
 Poems of a briefer compass on suhjects of the 
 day frequently appeared from his pen. A collec- 
 tion of these was made in 1848.* It contains a 
 poetic version of the thirteenth satire of Juvenal. 
 A small volume of letters, written from St. Pe- 
 tersburg to his son, On the Bible and its Teach- 
 ings, was published after his death. t 
 
 In 1830, on the seifii-eentenuial anniversary of 
 the adoption of the federal constitution, Mr. 
 Adams delivered an address before the Historical 
 Society of New York. He was of course fre- 
 quently called upon for such services, but his 
 public discourses of this character, with the ex- 
 ception of the funeral discourses on Madison and 
 Monroe delivered in 1836, 1834, and 1831, which 
 were re-published with the title of Lives of Cele- 
 brated Statesmen by John Quincy Adams, in 
 1846, have not been collected. lie was a constant 
 reader, and his admirable memory enabled him to 
 accumulate a vast stock of ready information. In 
 English as well as ancient and foreign literature, 
 he was thoroughly versed, and able to repeat long 
 passages from authors in various languages. He 
 translated Wieland's Oberon in verse, but withheld 
 liis version from the press on the appearance of 
 that of Sotheby. 
 
 In the latter part of his career Mr. Adams was 
 a leader of the anti-slavery party, and an inflexible 
 advocate of the right of petition on this as well as 
 on every other subject. He carried this so far as 
 on one occasion to present a petition for a disso- 
 lution of the Union, expressing at the same time 
 his dissent from and abhorrence of such a pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 Mr. Adams retained the full vigor of his mind 
 and body by his temperate and active mode of life 
 to the hour almost of his death. He was in his 
 place in the House on the 21st of February, 1848, 
 and gave an emphatic " no" on a motion to pre- 
 sent the thanks of the House with gold medals to 
 various officers who had distinguished themselves 
 in the Mexican war. A little after this the course 
 of business was interrupted by a cry, " Mr. Adams 
 
 * Poems of Religion and Society by John Quincy Adams. 
 Ktw York : W. II. Graham. ISnio. pp. Iu8. 
 t Auburn. 185<l. 16mo. pp. 128. 
 
 J , H cAj-o.v*^ 
 
 is dying." He was falling over the left side of 
 his chair, his right hand clutching at his .desk 
 for support. He was placed on a sofa, and re- 
 moved for air to the rotunda, and thence to the 
 door of the east portico. As he could not be taken 
 with safety to his residence he was carried to the 
 apartment of the Speaker, Mr. Winthrop. Here 
 he rallied enough to falter his memorable dying 
 words, " This is the end of earth — I am content." 
 He then sank into an apparent stupor, in which 
 he remained until he expired, at a quarter past 
 seven in the evening of the day but one after his 
 attack. " It is better to wear out than to rust 
 out," was the favorite maxim of Adams. It was 
 one which he lived fully up to, and with which 
 the circumstances of his last hours finely har- 
 monized. Had his mode of death been presented 
 to his choice in life, it would have probably been 
 joyfully accepted as a fitting close to his sixty-five 
 years of active public service. 
 
 THE WANTS OF MAN.* 
 
 " Man wants but little here below, 
 JNor wants that little loner. ' — 
 
 GoLdtsmith's Hermit 
 
 " Man wants but little here below, 
 
 Nor wants that little long." 
 'Tis not with me exactly so, 
 
 But 'tis so in the song. 
 My wants are many, and if told 
 
 Would muster many a score; 
 Anil were each wish a mint of gold, 
 
 I still should long for more. 
 
 'What first I want is daily bread, 
 And cauvass-backs and wine; 
 
 * It was written under these circumstances: — General Ogle 
 informed Mr. Adams that several young ladies in his district 
 had requested him to procure Mr. A.'s autograph for them. In 
 accordance with this request. Mr. Adams wrote the following 
 beautiful poem upon "The Wants of Man," each stanze upon a 
 sheet of note paper. 
 
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 
 
 559 
 
 And all the realms of nature spread 
 
 Before me when I dine. 
 Four courses scarcely can provide 
 
 My appetite to quell, 
 With four choice cooks from France, beside, 
 
 To dress my dinner well. 
 
 in. 
 What next I want, at heavy cost, 
 
 Is elegant attire ; — 
 Black sable furs, for winter's frost, 
 
 And silks for summer's fire, 
 And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace 
 
 My bosom's front to deck. 
 And diamond rings my hands to grace, 
 
 And rubies for my neck. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And then I want a mansion fair, 
 
 A dwelling-house, in style, 
 Four stories high, for wholesome air— 
 
 A massive marble pile; 
 With halls for banquets and for balls, 
 
 All furnished rich and fine ; 
 With stabled studs in fifty stalls, 
 
 And cellars for my wine. 
 
 I want a garden and a park, ' 
 
 My dwelling to surround — 
 A thousand acres (bless the mark), 
 
 With walls encompassed round — 
 Where flocks may range and herds may low, 
 
 And kids and lambkins play, 
 And flowers and fruits commingled grow, 
 
 All Eden to display. 
 
 I waut, when summer's foliage falls, 
 
 And autumn strips the trees, 
 A house within the city's walls, 
 
 For comfort and for ease. 
 But here, as space is somewhat scant, 
 
 And acres somewhat rare. 
 My house in town I only want 
 
 To occupy a square. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I want a steward, butler, coolcs; 
 
 A coachman, footman, grooms, 
 A library of well-bound books, 
 
 And picture-garnished rooms; 
 Corregios, Magdalen, and Night, 
 
 The matron of the chair; 
 Guido's fleet coursers in their flight, 
 
 And Claudes at least a pair. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I want a cabinet profuse 
 
 Of medals, coins, and gems; 
 A printing press, for private use, 
 
 Of fifty thousand ems; 
 And plants, and minerals, and shells; 
 
 Worms, insects, fishes, birds; 
 And every beast on earth that dwells, 
 
 In solitude or herds. 
 
 I want a board of burnished plate, 
 
 Of silver and of gold ; 
 Tureens of twenty pounds in weight, 
 
 With sculpture's richest mould ; 
 Plateaus, with chandeliers and lamps. 
 
 Plates, dishes — all the same ; 
 And porcelain vases, with the stamps 
 
 Of Sevres, Angouleme. 
 
 And maples, of fair glossy stain, 
 
 Must form my chamber doors, 
 And carpets of the Wilton grain 
 
 Must cover all my floors ; 
 My walls, with tapestry bedeck'd, 
 
 Must never be outdone ; 
 And damask curtains must protect 
 
 Their colors from the sun. 
 
 And mirrors of the largest pane 
 
 From Venice must be brought ; 
 And sandal- wood, and bamboo can-?, 
 
 For chairs and tables bought ; 
 On all the mantel-pieces, clocks 
 
 Of thrice-gilt bronze must stand, 
 And screens of ebony and box 
 
 Invite the stranger's hand. 
 
 XII. 
 
 I want (who does not want?) a wif3, 
 
 Affectionate and fair, 
 To soia£e all the woes of life, 
 
 And all its joys to share ; 
 Of temper sweet,, of yielding will, 
 
 Of firm, yet placid mind. 
 With all my faults to love me still, 
 
 AVith sentiment refiu'd. 
 
 And as Time's car incessant runs, 
 
 And Fortune fills my store, 
 I want of daughters and of sons 
 
 From eight to half a score. 
 I want (alas ! can mortal dare 
 
 Such bliss on earth to crave ?) 
 That all the girls be chaste and fair — 
 
 The boys all wise and brave. 
 
 xrv. 
 And when my bosom's darling sing.:, 
 
 With melody divine, 
 A pedal harp of many strings 
 
 Must with her voice combine. 
 A piano, exquisitely wrought, 
 
 Must open stand, apart, 
 That all my daughters may be taught 
 
 To win the stranger's heart. 
 
 xv. 
 
 My wife and daughters will desiro 
 
 Refreshment from perfumes, 
 Cosmetics for the skin require, 
 
 And artificial blooms. 
 The civet fragrance shall dispense, 
 
 And treasur'd sweets return ; 
 Cologne revive the flagging sense, 
 
 And smoking amber burn. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And when at night my weary head 
 
 Begins to droop and doze, 
 A southern chamber holds my bed, 
 
 _For nature's soft repose; 
 With blankets, counterpanes, and sheet, 
 
 Mattrass, and bed of down, 
 And comfortables for my feet, 
 
 And pillows for my crown. 
 
 xvn. 
 I want a warm and faithful friend, 
 
 To cheer the adverse hour, 
 Who ne'er to flatter will descend, 
 
 Nor bend the knee to power; 
 A friend to chide me when I'm wrong, 
 
 My inmost soul to see ; 
 
560 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And that my friendship prove as stron; 
 For him, as his for me. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 I want a kind and tender heart, 
 
 For others' wants to feel ; 
 A soul secure from Fortune's dart. 
 
 And bosom arm'd with steel ; 
 To bear divine chastisement's rod, 
 
 And mingling: hi my plan, 
 Submission to the will of God, 
 
 With charity to man. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I want a keen, observing eye, 
 
 An ever-listening ear, 
 The truth through all disguise to spy, 
 
 And wisdom's voice to hear ; 
 A tongue, to speak at virtue's need, 
 
 In Heaven's subliinest strain ; 
 And lips, the cause of man to plead, 
 
 And never plead in vain. 
 
 xx. 
 
 I want uninterrupted health, 
 
 Throughout my long career, 
 And streams of never-failing wealth, 
 
 To scatter far and near ; 
 The destitute to clothe and feed, 
 
 Free bounty to bestow ; 
 Supply the helpless orphan's need, 
 
 AJid soothe the widow's woe. 
 
 I want the genius to conceive, 
 
 The talents to unfold, 
 Designs, the vicious to retrieve, 
 
 The virtuous to uphold ; 
 Inventive power, combining skill, 
 
 A persevering soul, 
 Of human hearts to mould the will, 
 
 And reach from pole to pole. 
 
 XXIL 
 
 I want the seals of power and place, 
 
 The ensigns of command, 
 Charged by the people's unbought grace, 
 
 To rule my native land. 
 Nor crown, nor sceptre would I ask 
 
 But from my country's will, 
 By day, by night, to ply the task 
 
 Her cup of bliss to fill. 
 
 xxnL 
 I want the voice of honest praise 
 , To follow me behind, 
 And to he thought in future days 
 
 The friend of human kind ; 
 That after ages, as they rise, 
 
 Exulting may proclaim, 
 In choral union to the skies. 
 
 Their blessings on my name. 
 
 ^ 4 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 These are the wants of mortal man ; 
 
 I cannot want them long, 
 For life itself is but a span, 
 . And earthly bliss a song. 
 My last great want, absorbing all , 
 
 Is, when beneath the sod, 
 And summoii'd to my final call, 
 
 The mercy of my God. 
 
 And oh ! while circles in my veins 
 Of life the purple stream, 
 
 And yet a fragment small remains 
 Of nature's transient dream. 
 
 My soul, in humble hope unscar'd, 
 
 Forget not thou to pray, 
 That this thy want may be prepared 
 
 To meet the Judgment Day. 
 
 FROM THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF JAMES MADISON. 
 
 This constitution, my countrymen, is the great 
 result of the North American revolution. This is 
 the giant stride in the improvement of the condition 
 of the human race, consummated in a period of less 
 than one hundred years. Of the signers of the ad- 
 dress to George the Third in the Congress of 1774 — 
 of the signerB of the Declaration of Independence in 
 1776 — of the signers of the Articles of Confederation 
 in 1781, and of the signers of the federal and na- 
 tional Constitution of Government under which we 
 live, with enjoyments never before allotted to man, 
 not one remains in the land of the living. The last 
 survivor of them all was he to honor whose memory 
 we are here assembled at once with mourning and 
 with joy. We reverse the order of sentiment and 
 reflection of the ancient Persian king — we look back 
 on the century gone by — we look around with anx- 
 ious and eager eye for one of that illustrious host of 
 Patriots and heroes, under whose guidance the revo- 
 lution of American Independence Avas begun, and 
 continued, and completed. We look around in vain. 
 To them this crowded theatre, full of human life, in 
 all the stages of existence, full of the glowing exul- 
 tation of youth, of the steady maturity of manhood, 
 the sparkling eyes of beauty, and the grey hairs of 
 reverend age — all this to them is as the solitude of 
 the sepulchre. We think of this and say, how short 
 is human life ! But then, then, we turn back our 
 thoughts again, to the scene over which the falling 
 curtain lias but now closed upon the drama of the 
 day. From the saddening thought that they are no 
 more, we call for comfort upon the memory of what 
 they were, and our hearts leap for joy, that they 
 were our fathers. We see them, true and faithful 
 subjects of their sovereign, first meeting with firm 
 but respectful remonstrance, the approach of usur- 
 pation upon their rights. We see them,' fearless in 
 their fortitude, and confident in the righteousness of 
 their cause, bid defiance to the arm of power, and 
 declare themselves Independent States. We see 
 them waging for seven years a war of desolation 
 and of glory, in most unequal contest with their own 
 unnatural stepmother, the mistress of the seas, till, 
 under the sign-manual of their king, their Independ- 
 ence was acknowledged— -and last and best of all, we 
 see them, toiling in war and in peace to form and 
 perpetuate an union, under forms of Government 
 intricately but skilfully adjusted so as to secure to 
 themselves and their posterity the priceless blessings 
 of inseparable liberty and law. 
 
 Their days on earth are ended, and yet their cen- 
 tury has not passed away. 'Their portion of the 
 blessings which they thus labored to secure, they 
 have enjoyed, and transmitted to us, their posterity. 
 We enjoy them as an inheritance — won, not by our 
 toils — watered, not with our tears — saddened, not 
 by the shedding of any blood of ours. The gift of 
 heaven through their sufferings and their achieve- 
 ments — but not without a charge of corresponding 
 duty incumbent upon ourselves. 
 
 And what, my friends and fellow citizens — what 
 is that duty of our own ? Is it to remonstrate to the 
 adder's ear of a king beyond the Atlantic wave, and 
 claim from him the restoration of violated rights? 
 No. Is it to sever the ties of kindred and of blood 
 with the people from whom we sprang? To cast 
 away the precious name of Britons, and be no more 
 the countrymen of Shak&peare and Milton — of New- 
 ton and Locke — of Chatham and Burke ? Or more 
 
THADDEUS MASON" HARRIS. 
 
 5G1 
 
 and worse, is it to meet their countrymen in the 
 deadly conflict of a seven years' war? No. Is it 
 the last and greatest of the duties fulfilled by them? 
 Is it to lay the foundation of the fairest Government 
 and the mightiest nation that ever floated on the tide 
 of time ? No! These awful and solemn duties were 
 allotted to them ; and by them they were faithfully 
 performed. What then is our duty ? Is it not to 
 preserve, to cherish, to improve the inheritance which 
 they have left us — won by their toils — watered by 
 their tears — saddened but fertilized by their blood ? 
 Are we the sons of worthy sires, and in the onward 
 march of time have they achieved in the career of hu- 
 man improvement so much, only that our posterity 
 and theirs may blush for the contrast between their 
 unexampled energies and our nerveless impotence ? 
 between their more than Herculean labors aud our 
 indolent repose ? No, my fellow citizens, far be from 
 us, far be from you, for he who now addresses you 
 has but a few short days before he shall be called to 
 join the multitude of ages past — far be from you the 
 reproach or the suspicion of such a degrading contrast. 
 You too have the solemn duty to perform, of improv- 
 ing the condition of your species, by improving your 
 own. Not in the great and strong wind of a revo- 
 lution, which rent the mountains and brake in pieces 
 the rocks before the Lord — for the Lord is not in the 
 wind — not in the earthquake of a revolutionary war, 
 marching to the onset between the battle field and 
 the scaffold — for the Lord is not in the earthquake— 
 not in the fire of civil dissension — in war between 
 the members and the head — in nullification of the 
 laws of the Union by the forcible resistance of one 
 refractory State — for the Lord is not in the fire ; and 
 that, fire was never kindled by your fathers! No! itis 
 in the still small voice that succeeded the whirlwind, 
 the earthquake, and the fire. The voice that stills 
 the raging of the waves and the tumults of the 
 people — that spoke the words of peace — of harmony 
 — of union. And for that voice, may you and your 
 children's children, " to the last syllable of recorded 
 time," fix your eyes upon the memory, and listen 
 with your ears to the life of James Madison. 
 
 THADDEUS MASON IIAEEIS. 
 
 The Rev. Thaddeus Mason Harris, one of a family 
 distinguished for its attention to American anti- 
 quarian literature, was librarian at Harvard from 
 1701 to 1793, as his son, the Eev. Thaddeus 
 William Harris, distinguished as an entomologist, 
 has occupied the position since 1831.* The 
 
 father was born in Charlestown in 1768, and be- 
 came a graduate in the Harvard class with John 
 Quincy Adams in 1787, when he delivered a 
 poem on History, which Dr. Belknap at the time 
 complimented. He became teacher of a school 
 at Worcester, and was invited by Washington to 
 become his private secretary, an honorable posi- 
 tion which he eagerly accepted, when he was 
 
 * A grandson, Wi! in Thaddeus Harris, died in 1S54 at the 
 ogeottwenty-Bieht, leaving a reputation or antiquarian accom- 
 plishments and diligence. 
 
 vol. i. — 36 
 
 [ prevented engaging in it by an attack of illness. 
 
 ; He then pursued a theologic course at Cambridge, 
 where, in 1700, he delivered a Phi Beta Kappa 
 
 ; Oration on " Learned Associations." In 1793, he 
 
 i became pastor of the church in Dorchester where 
 he continued through a long life. In 1790 he 
 published an elegy, The Triumphs of Supersti- 
 tion* which denotes his thought and feeling, and 
 the opening lines of which we may quote for 
 their appropriate imagery : — 
 
 THE TEIUMPHS OF SUPERSTITION. 
 
 The sun retires. Night spreads her dusky plume. 
 
 The gray mist rises from the passing stream. 
 Yon cloud, o'ershadowing, deepens all the gloom : 
 
 And the heart trembles as the lightnings gleam. 
 
 Pale terror wanders o'er the dewy lawn. 
 
 The loud blast groans along the distant shore. 
 The ghost, complaining, rides upon the storm. 
 
 The sea rolls high: the beating surges roar. 
 
 Now guilt forsakes his agonizing bed, 
 
 Where conscience planted many a piercing thorn. 
 Kind sleep has left his eye; each joy is fled: 
 
 He waits, impatient for the coming morn. 
 
 Full many an airy shape— dejected — pale, 
 
 To his sad mind imagination paiuts ; 
 And as they flit across the blighted vale, 
 
 He hears the breeze — they sigh ; he chills and 
 faints. 
 
 Yet gentle innocence, with bosom pure, 
 
 Fears not the loud wind's groan, the breeze's 
 sigh, 
 
 But walks abroad in virtue's garb secure, 
 Nor startles as the harmless lightnings fly. 
 
 Mark, as deep musing in these still retreats, 
 No anxious pang distracts her peaceful soul; 
 
 No pulse tumultuous in her wild breast beats; 
 No goblins haunt, nor fancied death-bells toll. 
 
 Come, let us join the solitary dame, 
 
 Though panting terror frowns along the vale. 
 
 And hear attentively her useful strain : 
 
 When reason dictates, let her truths prevail. 
 
 A portion of the poem is taken up with the 
 story of the desecration, by a parent, of the grave 
 of his daughter, and the burning of the remains 
 to provide a charm for the health of their sisters 
 which a note speaks of as an actual occurrence at 
 Ballston. 
 
 There is a pleasing reminiscence of Harris at 
 this period, in connexion with the youth of Ed- 
 ward Everett, When the latter was about four 
 years old, at his birth-place, in Dorchester, he re- 
 cited the following copy of verses which Mason 
 wrote for the child, the "little roan" referring 
 to the color of the speaker's hair.f 
 
 THE LITTLE ORATOR. 
 
 Pray, how should I, a little lad, 
 
 In speaking, make a figure ? 
 You're only joking, I'm afraid, — 
 
 Do wait till I am bigger. 
 
 * The Triumphs of Superstition ; an Elegy. By a Student 
 of Harvard University. 
 
 " Superstitio error iusanus est ; amandos timet, quos collt 
 violat." — Seneca's Epist. 
 
 '■ Tantum Superstitio potuit suadere inalorllin !" — Virgil. 
 (Sic) 
 
 Printed at Boston, by Isaiah Thomas, and Ebcuezer T. An- 
 drews, at Faust's Statue, No. 45 Newberry -street. 17110. 
 
 t Loring's Boston Orators, p. 531. 
 
562 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 But, 6ince you wish to hear my part, 
 
 And urge me to begin it, 
 I'll strive for praise, with all my heart, 
 
 Though small the hope to win it. 
 
 I'll tell a tale how Farmer John 
 
 A little roan-colt bred, sir, 
 And every night and every morn 
 
 He water'd and he fed, sir. 
 
 Said neighbour Joe to farmer John, 
 " Arn't you a silly dolt, sir, 
 To spend such time and care upon 
 A little useless colt, sir ?" 
 
 Said Farmer John to Neighbour Joe, 
 " I'll bring my little ro.'in up, 
 Not for the good he now can do, 
 But will do, when he's grown up." 
 
 The moral you can well espy, 
 To keep the tale from spoiling ; 
 
 The little colt, you think, is I, — 
 I know it by your smiling. 
 
 And now, my friends, please to excuse 
 My lisping and my stammers ; 
 
 I, for this once, have done my best, 
 And so — I'll make my manners. 
 
 His pastoral duties were varied by a journey 
 for his health in the western states and a tour in 
 Great Britain. As a memorial of the former he 
 published, on his return, his " Journal of a Tour 
 into the Territory North-west of the Alleghany 
 Mountains, made in the Spring of the year 1803, 
 with a geographical and historical account of the 
 State of Ohio." Its dedication is characteristic 
 of his mood. 
 
 To the candor of the Public 
 
 I submit my work ; 
 
 to the 
 
 Providence and favour of Almighty God 
 
 I commend my beloved family ; 
 
 And to the hopes, 
 
 Not of the present, 
 
 but 
 
 Of the future life, 
 
 I resign myself. 
 
 In the same year, 1803, he published a compi- 
 lation, in four small volumes, entitled the " Minor 
 Encyclopaedia," which Daniel Webster remem- 
 bered as a useful work. In 1805 he delivered a 
 Phi Beta Kappa poem " On the Patronage of 
 Genius." In 1820 he published a " Natural His- 
 tory of the Bible," on which he had been long 
 engaged, which was pirated and mutilated in 
 England, and tran.-lated in Germany. Visiting 
 Savannah for his health, his antiquarian inquiries 
 led him to write his " Biographical Memorials of 
 James Oglethorpe, founder of Georgia," which 
 appeared in 1841. He also published numerous 
 Sermons and Addresses, many of the latter in 
 connexion with the Masonic Fraternity, of which 
 he was a member. He also took an active part 
 in the several historical and learned societies of 
 his clay. He (lied in 1842, in his seventy-fourth 
 year. Dr. Frothingham has drawn iiis character, 
 that of an amiable divine and sensitive scholar, 
 with tenderness in his memoir in the publications 
 of the Massachusetts Historical Society,* of which 
 Harris was one of the original members. . 
 
 * Mass. Hist. Soe. Coll., Fourth Series, ii. 180. 
 
 JOSEPH DENNIE, 
 Tub elegant essayist, the "lay preacher" of 
 the old American journals, was born at Boston, 
 August 10, 1768. He acquired his literature at 
 Harvard, of the class of 1790, reading law after- 
 wards with Benjamin West at Charleston, New 
 Hampshire, in which state he opened an office at 
 Walpole. 
 
 Dennie made one attempt at the bar, of which 
 a humorous account was published by his friend 
 and early litei'ary associate Royal Tyler.* He 
 spoke like an elegant scholar, with some unneces- 
 sary eloquence, on a provisory note case before 
 a crude provincial judge, who did not appreciate 
 his rhetoric, was discomfited by the bluntness of 
 the bench, and did not renew his efforts. 
 
 The Farmer's Museum, published at Walpole, 
 New Hampshire, originally established by Isaiah 
 Thomas and David Carlisle in 1793, under the 
 editorship of Dennie, who, after having con- 
 tributed to its columns, became its conductor in 
 1796, gathered around it one of the most brilliant 
 corps of writers ever congregated to advance the 
 fortunes of a similar undertaking in America. It 
 numbered among its authors, each constantly fur- 
 nishing a department, the witty lawyer Royal 
 Tyler, a man of acute mind and well directed 
 powere ; David Everett, Thomas Green Fessenden, 
 Isaac Story, and others, whose abilities may be 
 traced in its elegantly arranged folio pages. The 
 inventions of the paper were endless. Poem, 
 essay, criticism, were served up with the skill of 
 a French cook compounding his hundredth varia- 
 tion of omelette. There were the " Farrago," the 
 " Lay Preacher," the " Shop of Colon and Spon- 
 dee," "Peter Quince," " Simon Spunkev," " The 
 Hermit," " The Rural Wanderer," " Peter Pendu- 
 lum," " The Desk of Beri Hesden," every trick 
 of alliteration to catch the negligent readers.t 
 
 Dennie wrote for the Museum, The Farrago, 
 a series of essays full of warm apprehension of 
 the poetic beauties of life and literature; the 
 Lay Preacher, which had the fault of irreverence 
 in taking its texts for familiar discussion from 
 Scripture, though jarring upon the reader less in 
 Dennie's hands from his good taste and tone of 
 morality,| and ne projected The Wandering Jew, 
 which was to close his labors in this kind. 
 
 In the Port Folio the "Lay Preacher" de- 
 scribes himself accomplishing his series of essays, 
 "a young man, valetudinary, without fortune, 
 
 * In the New England Galaxy, July 24, 1818. Quoted in 
 Buckingham's Newspaper Literature. 
 
 t The" mottoes of the Farmer's Museum at different times in- 
 dicate its spirit : — 
 
 Ho, every one that thirsteth for novelty, come 1 
 At another period it had the lines from Bunyan at its head — 
 Wouldst thou remember 
 From New Tear's day to the last of December, 
 Then read — 
 
 which gave place to the verses, appropriate to its rural locality, 
 from Goldsmith's Village — 
 
 Hither, each week, the peasant shall repair, 
 To sweet oblivion of his daily care; 
 Again the farmer's news — the barber's tale, 
 Again the woodman's ballad shall prevail. 
 
 Buckingham's Newspaper Literature, ii. 174-220. 
 
 % Since successfully followed by the Sermons of Dow, Jun., 
 who takes his text from the profane classic authors, and whoso 
 three volumes, though the mannerism tires in the end, are re- 
 plete with good feeling and many nice though inverted poeti- 
 cal expressions. 
 
JOSEPH DENOTE. 
 
 563 
 
 without a patron, •without an auxiliary, without 
 popular encouragement ;" — which he could hardly 
 mean literally, but which was all true enough of 
 the state of literature at the time. The best 
 talents were then gratuitously exercised for the 
 public. The Farmer's Museum itself, with its 
 brilliant array, was suffered to decline, while poor 
 Dennie was calling on the public to subscribe and 
 authors to write (for fame), as if both were 
 under equal obligation. The paying days of 
 American authorship had not yet dawned. Books, 
 even small duodecimos, were published by sub- 
 scription with humiliating " proposals " by sensi- 
 tive authors. A very clever resident English 
 author in the country, John Davis, writer of a 
 lively book of travels in the United States, which 
 he dedicated to Jefferson, offered, by an advertise- 
 ment, in 1801, two novels, fruits of his winter 
 labors, to any bookseller in the country who would 
 publish them — on the condition of receiving fifty 
 copies. The booksellers of New York, where he 
 lived, could not, he said, undertake them, for they 
 were dead of the fever.* 
 
 A notice to " Readers and Correspondents " in 
 the Museum, Dec. 4, 1797, indicates its height of 
 popularity, which it is curious to contrast with 
 the claims of publishers fifty years later, by the 
 million, with the area of reading enlarged to 
 Mexico and the Pacific : — 
 
 "The constant swell of our subscription book 
 suggests a theme to our gratitude and a motive 
 to our industry. The Farmer's Museum is read 
 by more than two thousand individuals, and has 
 its patrons in Europe and on the banks of the 
 Ohio." 
 
 Dennie was emploved upon the Museum from 
 1795 to 1799, when" he left for Philadelphia, to 
 edit the United States Gazette. In 1800, lie com- 
 menced with the bookseller, Asbury Dickens, the 
 publication of the Port Folio, at first a weekly 
 miscellany in quarto, in which form it remained 
 for five years, when it was changed to an octavo, 
 monthly, Dennie continuing the editor till his 
 deatht 
 
 The five large quarto pages of prospectus in 
 which Dennie announces to the world the hopes 
 
 * Davis visited anrl resided in Georgia and Virginia as a : 
 teacher. He saw pood company and enjoyed tin- climate, 
 looking out npon the beauties of nature with his Horace in 
 his hand. He wrote an Ode to the Mocking Bird, and poems 
 • on the Ashley River and the Natural Bridge. His sketches of 
 the literary society of Philadelphia, and of American author- j 
 ship generally, in his Travels, which is a book of pleasant ] 
 exaggerations, is amusing. This is one of his notices on the 
 Port "Folio. 
 
 " The editor of the Aurora calls the Port Foli-o the Porta- 
 ble Foolery ; and his facetiousness is applauded by one party, 
 and scorned by the other. But a better quibble on the word 
 would be, to name it the Court Olio; for it mingles the 
 dresses at St. James with speculations on literature. It I 
 being rumored that Mr. Dennie had been denominated by the 
 British Reviewer , the American Addison, the following 
 ludicrous paragraph appeared in the Aurora Gazette, ' Ex- i 
 ult ye white hills of New Hampshire, redoubtable Monadnock 
 and Twckaway 1 Laugh ye waters of the WimUeOpee and '. 
 Vmhagoq Lakes I Flow Mnooth in heroic ve.se ye streams | 
 of Amoonoosuck and Androscoggin, Cockhoko and Coritocook I 
 And you merry Merrimack be how more merry P " 
 
 t The. several series of the Port Folio embrace in all forty- 
 seven volumes. Its succession of editors was, Dennie, assist- 
 ed by Paul Allen; Nicholas Biddle for a short period; Charles 
 Caldwell, M.D., April 1814 to Dec. 1S15; John E. Hall. Jan. 
 181fi to Dec. 1S27. There is a general index, in the volume 
 closing the year 1S25, to Hall's twenty volumes from 1816. The 
 work was continued for two years further, with diminished vi- 
 tality, when it finally expired in 1827. 
 
 and intentions of the Fort Folio, are a model of 
 editorial sanguine faith and diligence. "Pro- 
 spectus of a new weekly paper, submitted to men 
 of affluence, men of liberality, and men of letters. 
 A young man, once known among village readers 
 as the humble historian of the hour, the con- 
 ductor of a Farmer's Museum and a Lay Preach- 
 er's Gazette, again offers himself to the public as 
 a volunteer editor. Having, as he conceives, a 
 right to vary at pleasure his fictitious name, he 
 now, for higher reasons than any fickle humor 
 might dictate, assumes the appellation of Old 
 Soiiool." 
 
 Dennie was followed to the Port Folio by his 
 friend Tyler, who continued his contributions 
 " from the shop of Messrs. Colon and Spondee" 
 to his journal, displaying his copious and refined 
 stores of reading, and urging many a point of 
 well digested criticism and observation. 
 
 Dennie's broken health compelled him to retire 
 for a while from the editorship of the Port Folio 
 in the summer and autumn of 1811, a depression 
 which was much enhanced by the death of his 
 father ; but with the succeeding year he returned 
 to the work, addressing the public with the hope- 
 fulness of the editor, who must always affect that 
 virtue if he has it not. He did not long survive. 
 The number of his periodical for January con- 
 tained some mournful editorial anticipations from 
 his pen. 
 
 TO THE PUBLIC 
 
 During the autumnal and midsummer months of 
 the lust year, which lias forever fled away, on the 
 pinions of Time, the Editor of this Journal was 
 compelled to relinquish its duties, and to be regard- 
 less of its delights, in consequence of the furious on- 
 set of three potent adversaries, Sickness, Sorrow, 
 and Adversity. Under the ardency of the summer 
 solstice, and while * the dor/ star's unpropitious ray 
 wns flaming, he was confined to the couch of Languor 
 and Anguish ; and, in the decline of autumn, he was 
 afflicted by one of the most tremendous domestic ca- 
 lamities, which can agonize the Sensibility, nourish 
 the Melancholy, and overpower the Fortitude j- of 
 man.J The influence of infirm health, in marring 
 the operations, both of manual and mental industry, 
 is familiar to every patient, as well as to every phy- 
 sician ; and when to corporeal Pain and yawning 
 Lassitude, the "Sickness of the Soul" is superadded, 
 from such an abhorred alliance all the brilliant 
 powers of Invention, and all the strong body guards 
 of Labour keep obstinately aloof, or fly timidly 
 away. The pen of the readiest writer corrodes in 
 the standish ; his papers atid projects reposing, in- 
 gloi'iously, on the shelves of dust, or in the pigeon 
 holes of oblivion. His desk is overthrown, his ma- 
 nuscripts are mouldy, and his vase of ink is as dry 
 as the vessel of the gospel outcast, while wandering 
 in the parched wilderness of Beersheba. What 
 Johnson emphatically calls the load of life, is then 
 truly wearisome. Society presents nothing to glad- 
 den, and Solitude nothing to soothe. In vain do we 
 fly to the sequestered shades of the country. Let 
 all the beauties of Nature solicit our notice § — let 
 all the diversities of Pleasure court our acceptance 
 ■ — let. the birds carol enehantingly in the grove, and 
 the flowers bloom odoriferously in the meadow ; let 
 the breeze whisper softly in the wood, and the sua 
 
 * Pope. 
 
 t The death of his father. 
 
 t Edmund Burke. 
 § Dr. Johnson. 
 
561 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 dance gaily on the water ; each rural sight, each 
 rural sound s is equally lost to him, who is under 
 the dominion of that relentless Power, which the 
 poet Gray energetically calls vthe Tamer of the hu- 
 man bkeast, 
 
 Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour 
 The bad affright, afflict the best. 
 
 By one, who was himself a severe sufferer, it has 
 been remarked, with truth and eloquence, that there 
 are, perhaps, very few conditions more to be regret- 
 ted than that of an active mind, labouring under 
 the weight of a distempered body. The time of 
 such a man is always spent in forming schemes, 
 which a change of wind hinders him from executing ; 
 his powers fume away in projects and in hope, and 
 the day of action never arrives. He lies down, de- 
 lighted with the thoughts of to-morrow, pleases his 
 Ambition with the Fame he shall acquire, or his 
 benevolence with the Good he shall impart. But in 
 the night the skies are overcast, the temper of the 
 air is changed, lie wakes in languor, impatience and 
 distraction, and has no longer any wisli but for 
 ease, nor any attention but to misery. It may be 
 said that Disease generally begins that equality, 
 which Death completes ; the distinctions, which set 
 one man so much above another, are very little per- 
 ceived in the gloom of a sick chamber, where it will 
 be vain to expect entertainment from the gay, or in- 
 struction from the wise; where all human glory is 
 obliterated, the wit is clouded, the reasoner per- 
 plexed, and the hero subdued; where the highest 
 and brightest of mortal beings finds nothing left 
 him but the consciousness of innocence. 
 
 On the seventh of the month in which this 
 was published, lie died suddenly, at the early age 
 of forty-four. The obituary in the next issue of 
 the journal speaks warmly, in a style of elegance 
 emulous of his own, of his literary accomplish- 
 ments and personal virtues. " So pure was its 
 texture, so delicate its conception-:, that his mind 
 seemed, if we may speak so, to have been bathed 
 at its birth in the very essence of literature — to 
 be daily fed with the celestial dews of learning/' 
 His conversation was the counterpart of his 
 writings, delighting in moral topics, and graced 
 by his fine stores of poetical reading. He was 
 free from the jealousies of the literary profession, 
 a happy condition for the editorial life he was 
 called to assume. His amiability is reflected on 
 every page of his writings, though occasionally 
 tinged by a tone of disappointment. 
 
 Buckingham, who was an apprentice to the 
 publisher of the Museum, and carried copy from 
 Dennie, describes his personal appearance in 1796. 
 He was rather below than above the middling 
 height, and was of slender frame ; was attentive 
 to fashion in his dress, appearing one May morn- 
 ning at the office " in a pea-green coat, white 
 vest, nankin small-clothes, white silk stockings, 
 and pumps fastened with silver buckles, which 
 covered at least half the foot from the instep to 
 the toe." He wrote very rapidly, and like most 
 persons connected with the press, deferred copy 
 till the last moment. " One of the best of his 
 lay-sermons," says Buckingham, " was written at 
 the village tavern, directly opposite to the office, 
 in a chamber where he and his friends were 
 amusing themselves with cards. It was delivered 
 to me by piece-meal, at four or five different 
 
 * Cowper. 
 
 times. If he happened to be engaged in a game, 
 when I applied for copy, he would ask some one 
 to play his hand for Mm, while he would give the 
 devil his due. "When I called for the closing para- 
 graph of the sermon, he said, call again in Jive 
 minutes. ' No,' said Tyler, ' I'll write the im- 
 provement for you.' He accordingly wrote a con- 
 cluding paragraph, and Dennie never saw it till 
 it was in print." 
 
 Buckingham speaks of his being " a premature 
 victim to social indulgence," and Knapp* thinks 
 the habit was increased by the attic nights of the 
 Philadelphia wits when the poet Moore was in 
 their company, and that Dennie acquired a dis- 
 trust of American society, quoting Cliffton's com- 
 plaint of "the land where fancy sickens, and 
 where genius dies." There was doubtless some 
 cause for dissatisfaction ; for it should not be for- 
 gotten that Dennie wrote laboriously and well 
 when the rewards of literature were scanty, 
 and the position of the writer uncertain. H' he 
 wavered in his course, his sensibility may very 
 naturally have led him astray. • 
 
 Dennie's convivial tastes led him to the forma- 
 tion of a social gathering which was known in 
 Philadelphia as the Tuesday Club. It included a 
 number of the contributors to the Port Folio. 
 Gen. Thomas Cadwallader who gave translations 
 from Horace in the Magazine, Samuel Ewing a 
 son of the Provost, who wrote with the signa- 
 ture "Jacques," Thomas Warton, Philip the son 
 of General Hamilton, "Wood the actor, Richard 
 Rush, and Richard Peters author of the Law 
 Reports, were members. John Quincy Adams, 
 Gouv. Morris, Judge Hopkinson, Horace Binney, 
 Robert Walsh, the Rev. John Blair Linn, Charles 
 Brockden Brown, and Charles J. Inger.-oll, were 
 also contributors to the Port Folio, which, under 
 the efficient management of the publisher, Har- 
 rison Hall, in its best days, largely occupied the' 
 attention of the reading public in its departments 
 of literature. 
 
 As an Essayist, Dennie's influence was confined 
 to the periodical literature of his day, only two 
 scanty collections of his papers having been pub- 
 lished: — The Lay Preacher ; or Short Sermons 
 for Idle Headers, printed at Walpole in 179'6, and 
 a volume also of the Lay Preacher, collected and 
 arranged by John E. Hall, in Philadelphia, in 
 1817. 
 
 The style of the Lay Preacher in which Dennie, as 
 he himself tells us, aimed to unite " the familiarity 
 of Franklin with the simplicity of Sterne," does 
 not always suggest those qualities. Its elegance is 
 occasionally somewhat plethoric of adjectives and 
 fine phrases, especially in the earlier series; 
 while it has a vein of ingenuity and gentle humor 
 belonging to itself. 
 
 ON THE PLEASURES OF STUDY. 
 
 "Blessed is he that readeth." — Rev. i. 1. 
 
 "Whenever I reflect upon my habitual attachment 
 to books, I feel a new glow of gratitude towards that 
 Power, who gave me a mind thus disposed, and to 
 those liberal friends, who have allowed the utmost 
 latitude of indulgence to my propensity. Had I been 
 born on a barbarous Bhore, denied the glorious pri- 
 vileges of education, and interdicted an approach to 
 
 * American Biography. 
 
JOSEPH DENOTE. 
 
 565 
 
 the rich provinces of literature, I should have been 
 the most miserable of niankini With a tempera- 
 ment of sensibility, with the nerves of a valetudi- 
 narian, with an ardent thirst for knowledge, and 
 very scanty means for its acquisition, with a mind 
 often clouded with care, and depressed by dejection, 
 I should have resembled the shrinking vegetable of 
 irritableness, and like the mimosa of the gardens, 
 have been doomed to be at once stupid and sensi- 
 tive. The courses of nature and fortune having ta- 
 ken a different direction, parental benignity having 
 furnished me with the keys, and discipline and habit 
 having conducted me through the portico of educa- 
 tion, I have ever found, whether walking in the 
 vestibule of science, or meditating in the groves of 
 philosophy, or hearkening to historians and poets, 
 or rambling with Rabelais, such excellent compa- 
 nions, that life has been beguiled of more than half 
 its irksomeness. In sickness, in sorrow, in the most 
 doleful days of dejection, or in the most gloomy sea- 
 eons in the calendar, study is the sweetest solace 
 and the surest refuge, particularly when my reading 
 is directed to that immortal book", whence the theme 
 of this essay is taken. In an hour of adversity, 
 when I have caught up this precious volume, I have 
 found, instantly, the balm of Gilead aud the medi- 
 cine for the mind. The darkness of despair has been 
 succeeded by the brightest rays of cheerfulness, and 
 in place of grim phantoms, I have found comfort, 
 peace, and serenity. 
 
 I hope that this style of speaking occasionally in 
 the first person will be forgiven, even by the most 
 fastidious reader, when he adverts to the custom of 
 my predecessors. A periodical writer can hardly 
 avoid this sort of egotism, and it is surely very 
 harmless when its employer muffles himself in the 
 mantle of concealment, and in the guise, whether of 
 a shrewd Spectator or a simple Lay Preacher, walks 
 unobtrusively abroad. Mr. Addison and Monsieur 
 Montaigne perpetually indulge this habit ; and on a 
 very careful inspection of many editions of their es- 
 says, I have always found, by certain infallible 
 marks, that those speculations had been most dili- 
 gently perused, which abound in little sketches of 
 the manners, humours, and habits of their authors. 
 We are naturally curious thus to peep through the 
 keyhole of a study, to see a writer in his elbow- 
 chair, and to listen to his story with the fondness 
 and familiarity of friendship. Anonymous authors 
 have a prescription from Parnassus to paint them- 
 selves; and when by a Tatler, a Spectator, or a 
 Connoisseur, nothing but good colours and modest 
 tinting is employed, men look with mingled curi- 
 osity and complacency at the picture. In a specu- 
 lation on the blessings derived from a studious tem- 
 per, if a miniature of a lover of books is introduced, 
 provided it be a tolerable resemblance, and viewed 
 in a proper light, it will, by an easy association, 
 lead the observer to reflect more intensely upon the 
 value of literature. 
 
 The utility and delight of a taste for books are as 
 demonstrable as any axiom of the severest science. 
 The most prosperous fortune is often harassed by 
 various vexations. The sturdiest son of strength is 
 sometimes the victim of disease. Melancholy will 
 sometimes involve the merriest in her shade, and 
 the fairest month of the year will have its cloudy 
 days. In these dreary seasons, from which no man 
 may hope to escape, sensual delights will not fill 
 scarcely a nook in the gloomy void of the troubled 
 time. Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
 this sort of pleasure may flash before the giddy eyes, 
 but then merely for a moment, and the twinkling 
 radiance is still surrounded with the murkiest gloom. 
 Eating, drinking, aud sleeping; the song and the 
 
 dance, the tabret and viol, the hurry of dissipation, 
 the agitation of play, these resources, however hus- 
 banded, are inadequate to the claims of life. On 
 the other hand, the studious and contemplative man 
 has always a scheme of wisdom by which he can 
 either endure or forget the sorrows of the heaviest 
 day. Though he may be cursed with care, yet he 
 is surely blessed when he readeth. Stud}' is the 
 dulce lenimen laborunt of the Sabine bard. It is sor- 
 row's sweet assuagcr. By the aid of a book, he can 
 transport himself to the vale of Tempe, or the gar- 
 dens of Armida. He may visit Pliny at his villa, or 
 Pope at Twickenham. He may meet Plato on the 
 banks of Ilyssus, or Petrarch among the groves of 
 Avignon. He may make philosophical experiments 
 with Bacon, or enjoy the eloquence of Bolingbroke. 
 He may speculate with Addison, moralize with John- 
 son, read tragedies and comedies with Shakspearc, 
 and be raptured by the rhetoric of Burke. 
 
 In many of the old romances, we are gravely in- 
 formed, that the unfortunate knight in the dungeon 
 of some giant, or fascinated by some witch or en- 
 chanter, while he sees nothing but hideousness and 
 horror before him, if haply a fairy, or some other 
 benignant being, impart a talisman of wondrous 
 virtue, on a sudden our disconsolate prisoner finds 
 himself in a magnificent palace, or a beautiful gar- 
 den, in the bower of beauty, or in the arms of love. 
 This wild fable, which abounds in the legends of 
 knight-errantry, has always appeared to me very 
 finely to shadow out the enchantment of study. A 
 book produces a delightful abstraction from the 
 cares and sorrows of this world. They may press 
 upon us, but when we are engrossed by study we 
 do not very acutely feel them. Nay, by the magic 
 illusion of a fascinating author, we are transported 
 from the couch of anguish, or the gripe of indigence, 
 to Milton's paradise, or the elysium of Virgil. 
 
 ON MEDITATION. 
 
 "Commune with your own heiu-t upon your bed, and be 
 still. 1 ' — Psalms iv. 4. 
 
 Having, in my last speculation, attempted to de- 
 scribe some of the delights of study, in this paper it 
 is proposed to consider the true use of retirement. 
 Between them there should be a perpetual alliance: 
 nay, they are not only neighbouring and friendly 
 powers, but they are familiar connexions. Amiable, 
 interesting, and lovely sisters ! if your worthy ad- 
 mirer be attracted by the riches of one, he will 
 quickly be delighted witli the pensiveness 'of the 
 other. Study will give him all her books, and re- 
 tirement conduct him to all her bowers. In no 
 ramble will he experience more delight than when 
 he roves through the healthful wood, or saunters 
 through the tranquil cloister, with retirement on his 
 right hand, and study on his left. Though their 
 guise is exceedingly modest, though their conversa- 
 tion has no resemblance to loquacity, though their 
 best attire is from no other wardrobe than that of 
 sweet simplicity, still they will always gain more 
 regard from the wiser than all the pageants of the 
 pompous, and all the plumage of the vain. 
 
 The royal psalmist, from whose divine odes I have 
 transcribed my text, was himself a memorable ex- 
 ample of the utility of retirement, reflection, and 
 self-communion. It will be remembered that he 
 was a warrior, a statesman, a man of business, and 
 a man of the world. In these various characters, 
 though he often acquitted himself excellently well, 
 yet unfortunately, in some flagrant instances, we 
 perceive how much he was tainted by the infection 
 of the world. But when he shuts his eyes against 
 the glare of ambition, and the gaze of beauty, when 
 he ceases to touch the harp of fascination, and for- 
 
566 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 eakes the cabinet and the camp, then we recognise, 
 at once, the scholar, the philosopher, and the poet. 
 In the strong-holds at En-gedi, he is a mere soldier; 
 in the palace of Saul, a servile musician ; in the 
 cave of Adullam, a skulking fugitive ; and in the 
 forest of Hareth, an unhappy exile. But when he 
 tore himself away from the thraldom of care, the 
 bustle of business, and the din of Jerusalem, when 
 he wandered away by the brook of the field, or the 
 plains of the wilderness, when he retired to his 
 chamber, and communed with his heart, then he 
 formed those noble associations, and composed those 
 exquisite performances, which will transmit his name 
 with renown to the remotest posterity. 
 
 My Lord Bacon, Sir Walter Raleigh, Erasmus, 
 Grotius, Mr. Addison, and Mr. Locke, together witli 
 a great multitude of illustrious men, have been 
 deeply involved in the cares of public business, as 
 well as engrossed by the meditations of the closet. 
 But for the fairest portion of their glorious fame 
 how much are they indebted to the latter! While 
 the chancery decrees of Sir Francis Bacon moulder 
 away in the hands of some master of the rolls, the 
 experiments of his study, and the essays of his wit, 
 like certain exquisite paintings, grow brighter by 
 time. While we peruse, with still renewing plea- 
 sure, Raleigh's history of the world, his unlucky po- 
 litics are scarcely regarded. Mr. Addison was secre- 
 tary of state, and Grotius an ambassador; but who 
 inquires for the despatches of the one, or is interested 
 in the negociations of the other ? The fame of Eras- 
 mus, constantly immersed in the turmoil of his 
 times, and engrossed by cares, civil and ecclesiastic, 
 would have perished with the names of those mise- 
 rable monks whom lie has derided, or those imperi- 
 ous princes whom he has courted. But by some- 
 times wisely withdrawing himself from the cabals 
 of a court, and the polemics of the church, by medi- 
 tating on horseback and in his chamber, by avarice 
 of time, by intenseness of application and ardour of 
 genius, he has filled ten folios, composed in the 
 purest Latinity, where an indolent reader can find 
 nothing too prolix, and where a critical reader can 
 discover nothing to reprehend. The foolish polities 
 of Addison are scarcely remembered even by his 
 faction. The character of Locke, as a man of busi- 
 ness, is painted with no other pencils than those of 
 ridicule, and the diplomacy of Grotius and of Sir 
 AVilliam Temple are utterly contemned; but their 
 literary and philosophical works, the beauteous off- 
 spring of retirement and study, will continue to 
 charm, 
 
 'Till time, like him of Gaza, in his wrath, 
 Plucking the pillars that support the world, 
 In nature's ample ruins lies entombed, 
 And midnight, universal midnight, reigns. 
 
 Though in the text we are admonished to com- 
 mune with ourselves in our chamber, yet it woidd 
 be a very partial and narrow interpretation, if it 
 were concluded that we could not meditate any 
 where else. The secresy of a closet, and the still- 
 ness of midnight, are, unquestionably, propitious to 
 the powers of reflection. But other places and 
 other seasons may be selected for that salutary dis- 
 cipline, which the Psalmist recommends. It is a 
 vulgar error to suppose that retirement and con- 
 templation are never to be found except in a forest 
 or a desert, a cell or a cloister. In the thronged 
 mart, and in the blaze of day, he who has inured 
 himself to habits of abstraction, may commune with 
 himself, as though he was in his chamber. Proofs 
 of this abound in many a page of the records of lite- 
 rature. Some of the fairest displays of self-know- 
 ledge] some of the finest results of meditation, some 
 
 of the sweetest fruits of retirement, owed their ap- 
 pearance not to the tranquillity of sylvan groves. 
 In many a metropolis, resounding with the din of 
 commerce, and crowded with the throng of nations, 
 contemplation has had her fill. Though a sublime 
 poet, in a fit of rural enthusiasm, has exclaimed, 
 Hide me from daifs garish eye, 
 
 yet it would be alike dangerous and delusive to be- 
 lieve, that we cannot speculate at noon, as well as 
 at night. In short, the choice of time or place is not 
 essential to the formation of habits of self-sequestra- 
 tion, and the acquisition of the precious power of 
 withdrawing the mind from all external objects. 
 
 As, in Dr. Johnson's phrase, I am often wakefully 
 disturbed at midnight, arid as I have not wholly for- 
 gotten my boyish attachment to woods and mea- 
 dows, I acknowledge that I often commune with 
 myself in my chamber ; and, in genial seasons, by 
 the banks of a romantic river, or in the recesses of a 
 lonely forest. I have already speculated twice on 
 the profit and pleasure producible by nocturnal 
 hours wisely emplo3'ed, and rural rambles judi- 
 ciously directed. But for a period of no inconsider- 
 able duration I have often retired to rest at a vulgar 
 hour, and have wholly exchanged the country for 
 the city. Change of circumstances demanded new 
 habits. Though but seldom I wind slowly o'er the 
 lea ; though the glimmering landscape but rarely 
 fades before my sight ; and my ears generally listen 
 to other sounds than the drowsy liriklings of a shep- 
 herd's bell, yet if. is my duty to reflect much even 
 in the midst of confusion. Accordingly I commune 
 with my own heart in the crowd, and can be still 
 even in the street. I sermonize in the suburbs, and 
 find apt alliteration in an alley. I start a topic in 
 High street, and hunt it down as far as Southwark 
 or the Northern Liberties. I walk through the 
 market-place, as I once wandered in a wood ; and 
 while one is talking of his farm, and another of his 
 merchandise, I listen to the suggestions of fancy, or 
 invoke the cherub contemplation. 
 
 But, to return to a more rigorous exposition of 
 the text, and consider it merely as an exhortation to 
 the tranquil exercise of our mental powers in the 
 retirement of the closet, I do not know whether in 
 the pages of any philosopher I could find a better 
 lesson of salutary discipline. It is favourable to the 
 culture of intellectual as well as moral habits. He 
 who accustoms himself to closet meditations will 
 not only purify his heart but correct his judgment, 
 form his taste, exercise his memory, and regulate his 
 imagination. Moreover, he then has an admirable 
 opportunity to view the world at a due distance, to I 
 form a deliberate estimate of life, to calculate with 
 precision the proportion of his own powers, com- 
 bined with those of other men ; and having weighed 
 himself, as it were, in the " balance of the sanc- 
 tuary," to find new causes for regret, and new rea- 
 sons for reformation. 
 
 To multitudes, solitude, retirement, and reflec- 
 tion appear in a form more horrid than the weird 
 sisters in Shakspeare. The man of business, the 
 man of pleasure, the votary of vanity, and the vic- 
 tim of lassitude, all sedulously shun those hours 
 wdiich have been so nobly employed by philoso- 
 phers, poets, hermits, and saints. Dr. Young, who 
 has immortalized his self-communion, in one of the 
 most original poems in our language, a poem not 
 only of gorgeous metaphors, but of the most ardent 
 piety, exclaims, with more than mortal enthusiasm — 
 
 Oh, lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, 
 Lost to th* noblfst sallies of the soul f 
 "Who think it solitude to be alone, 
 Communion sweet I communion large and high! 
 Our reason, guardian angel, aad our God ! 
 

 JOSEPH DENNIE. 
 
 567 
 
 INGRATITUDE OP REPUBLICS. 
 
 " For the workman is worthy of his meat." — Matt. x. 10. 
 
 If there be such a personage as Truth, this asser- 
 tion certainly belongs to her family, for what can. 
 be more just than that a vintager should eat some, 
 at least, of those grapes which he had planted and 
 watered. 
 
 But judging from the practice of the world, at the 
 present time, one would think my text was grown 
 obsolete, and that its principle was not recognised. 
 In the shambles there is always meat enough, but 
 how little is bestowed upon workmen. Parasites, 
 buffoons, fiddlers, equestrians, French philosophers, 
 and speculators gormandize; bat I see Merit, that 
 excellent workman, that needetli not to be ashamed, 
 as lank and as lean as my old tabby-cat, who has had 
 nothing to eat but church mice for a year. 
 
 Though I am not saluted a brother by any legiti- 
 mate parson, and belong to no ministerial associa- 
 tion on earth, yet I cherish great respect, and feel a 
 cordial regard for the established clergy. I con- 
 sider them, with few exceptions, as faithful work- 
 men; they make us moral ; they instruct our youth; 
 they lead sober and peaceable lives. 
 
 Along the cool, Sequestered vale of life, 
 They keep the noiseless tenor of their way. 
 
 They are wise, they are amiable men, though thev 
 are ignorant of foolish questions, and "strivings 
 about the law;" they understand perfectly the great 
 rules of life. Such men, therefore, are worthy of 
 their meat, and should be liberally provided. They 
 labour much : few men labour more ; they are com- 
 pelled to exercise not oidy the head but the hands. 
 The pi'ivate estate, as well as the gospel vineyard, 
 claims their care. When the drudgery of the year 
 is done; when numerous sermons have been com- 
 posed, and numerous sick-chambers visited ; when 
 they have been in watchiugs and weariness often, 
 what meat will the benevolence of a parish bestow? 
 Verily, a morsel. A beggarly pittance, called a sa- 
 lary, and that pittance scantily and grudgingly paid. 
 When I visit a village, covered with stores and 
 shops, and cultivated by opulent farmers ; when I 
 hear the inhabitants boast of their flourishing cir- 
 cumstances, and recount how many bushels of wheat 
 they threshed last year, and how well it sold ; if I 
 should be informed that their parson's annual sti- 
 
 Eend is but sixty pounds, in despite of all their 
 oasted riches and ostentation, I should think them 
 unworthy to enter a church. 
 
 If I should repair to any place where men con- 
 gregate, and describe to them one, who, in an hour 
 of jeopardy, had quitted his hearth, travelled many 
 wearisome miles, been exposed to sickly air, been 
 shot at for hours, and frequently without a crust or 
 a draught to supply the waste of nature. If I 
 Bhould add, that all this peril was sustained, that 
 we, at home, might live in security, not one of my 
 audience, provided speculators and bloodsuckers 
 were not of the number, would deny that the old 
 soldier, was a worthy workman. But where is his 
 meat ? Oh, my good sir, do not propose that ques- 
 tion in a republic, you know that a republic is never 
 bounteous. Belisariuses ask for their obolus here 
 as well as at Rome. But here the business ends. 
 They receive in Great Britain and elsewhere. You 
 might as soon expect moderation in a Frenchman, 
 or knowledge of the belles-lettres in a country attor- 
 ney, as that a commonwealth should be grateful 
 
 on cleanliness. 
 
 " Let thy garments he always white ; and let thy head lack no 
 ointment." — Eccl. ix. 8. 
 
 Though much occupied in preaching, and noted, 
 S3 some of my friends say, for a certain poetical 
 
 heedlessness of character, yet, if not oftener, at least 
 every Sunday, I copy the common custom, and in- 
 vest my little person in clean array. As, from a 
 variety of motives, and none of them, I hope, bad 
 ones, I go with some degree of constancy to church, 
 I choose to appear there decently and in order. 
 However inattentive through the week, on the so- 
 lemn day I brush with more than ordinary pains 
 my best coat, am watchful of the purity of my linen, 
 and adjust my cravat with an old bachelor's nicety. 
 While I was lately busied at 1113' toilet, in the work 
 of persoTial decoration, it popped into my head that 
 a sermon in praise of neatness would do good ser- 
 vice, if not to the world at large, at least to many 
 of my reading, writing, and thinking brethren, who 
 make their assiduous homage to mind a pretext for 
 negligence of person. 
 
 Among the minor virtues, cleanliness ought to be 
 conspicuously ranked ; and, in the common topics 
 of praise, we generally arrange some commendation 
 of neatness. It involves much. It supposes a love 
 of order, an attention to the laws of custom, and a 
 decent pride. My Lord Bacon says that a good 
 person is a perpetual letter of recommendation. 
 This idea may be extended. Of a well-dressed man, 
 it may be affirmed, that he has a sure passport 
 through the realms of civility. In first interviews 
 we can judge of no one except from appearances. 
 He, therefore, whose exterior is agreeable, begins 
 well in any society. Men and women are disposed 
 to augur favourably, rather than otherwise, of him 
 who manifests, by the purity and propriety of his 
 garb, a disposition to comply and to please. As, in 
 rhetoric, a judicious exordium is of admirable use to 
 render an audience docile, attentive, and benevo- 
 lent, so at your introduction into good company, 
 clean and modish apparel is, though an humble, at 
 least a serviceable herald of our exertions. 
 
 As these are very obvious truths, and as literary 
 men are generally vain, and sometimes proud, it is 
 singular that one of the easiest modes of gratifying 
 self-complacency should, by them, be, for the most 
 part, neglected ; and that this sort of carelessness is 
 so adhesive to one tribe of writers, that the word3 
 poet and sloven are regarded as synonymous in the 
 world's vocabulary. 
 
 This negligence in men of letters sometimes arises 
 from their inordinate application to book's and pa- 
 pers, and may be palliated by a good-natured man, 
 as the natural product of a mind too intensely en- 
 gaged in sublime speculations to attend to the black- 
 ness of a shoe or the whiteness of a ruffle. Mr. Locke 
 and Sir Isaac Newton might be forgiven by their 
 candid eotemporaries, though the first had composed 
 his essay with " unwashen hands," and the second 
 had investigated the laws of nature when he was 
 clad in a soiled night-gown. But slovenliness is 
 often affected by authors, or rather pretenders to 
 authorship ; and must then be considered as highly 
 culpable ; as an outrage of decorum, as a defiance 
 to the world, and as a pitiful scheme to attract no- 
 tice by means which are equally in the power of 
 the drayman and chimneysweeper. I know a poet 
 of this description, who anticipates renown no less 
 from a dirty shirt than from an elegant couplet, 
 and imagines that when his appearance is the most 
 sordid the world must conclude, of course, that his 
 mind is splendid and fair. In his opinion, " marvel- 
 lous foul linen" is a token of wit. and inky fingers 
 indicate humour ; he avers that a slouched hat is 
 demonstrative of a well-stored brain, and that genius 
 always trudges about in unbuckled shoes. He looks 
 for invention in rumpled ruffles, and finds high- 
 sounding poetry among the folds of a loose stocking. 
 But this smirched son of Apollo may be assured 
 
568 
 
 CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 there is no necessary connexion between dirt and 
 ability. It is not necessary to consummate such a 
 marriage to produce the fairest offspring of the 
 mind. One may write brilliantly, and, strange as it 
 may seem, be dressed well. If negligence be the 
 criterion of genius, a critic will, in future, inspect a 
 poet's wardrobe rather than his works. Slovenli- 
 ness, 60 far from being conimejidable in an author, 
 is more inexcusable in men of letters than in many 
 others, the nature of whose employment compels 
 them to be conversant with objeets sordid and im- 
 pure. A smith from lii6 forge, or a husbandman 
 from his fields, is obliged sometimes to appear stained 
 with the smut of the one or the dust of the other. 
 A writer, on the contrary, sitting in an easy chair 
 at a polished desk, and leaning on white paper, or 
 examining the pages of a book, is, by no means, 
 obliged to be soiled by his labours. I see no reason 
 why an author should not be a gentleman, or at 
 least as clean and neat as a Quaker. Far from 
 thinking that filthy dress marks a liberal mind, I 
 should suspect the good sense and talents of him 
 who affected to wear a tattered coat as the badge 
 of his profession. Should I see a reputed genius to- 
 tally regardless of his person, I should immediately 
 doubt the delicacy of his taste and the accuracy of 
 his judgment. I should conclude there was some 
 obliquity in his mind, a dull sense of decorum, and 
 a disregard of order. I should fancy that he eon- 
 sorted with low society ; and, instead of claiming 
 the privilege of genius, to knock and be admitted at 
 palaces, that he chose to sneak in at the back door 
 of hovels, and wallow brutishly in the sty of the 
 vulgar. 
 
 It is recorded of Somerville and Shenstone that 
 they were negligent, and of Smith that he was a 
 sloven. But disregard of dress is by no means a 
 constant trait in the literary character. Edmund 
 Waller, Prior, Swift, and Bolingbroke, were re- 
 markably neat in their persons, and curious in the 
 choice of apparel ; and of David Mallett, Dr. John- 
 son observes " that his appearance was agreeable, 
 and he suffered it to want no recommendation that 
 dress could give." 
 
 The Orientals are careful of their persons, with 
 much care. Their frequent ablutions and cliangeof 
 garments are noticed in every page of their history. 
 My text is not the only precept of neatness that can 
 be quoted from the Bible. The wise men of the 
 East supposed there was some analogy between the 
 purity of the body and the mind ; nor is this a vain 
 imagination. 
 
 I cannot conclude this sermon better than by an 
 extract from the works of Count Rumford, who, in 
 few and strong words, has fortified my doctrine : — 
 " "With what care and attention do the feathered 
 race wash themselves and put their plumage in or- 
 der ; and how perfectly neat, clean, and elegant do 
 they ever appear. Among the beasts of the field, 
 we find that those which are the most cleanly are 
 generally the most gay and cheerful, or are distin- 
 guished by a certain air of tranquillity and content- 
 ment; and singing-birds are always remarkable for 
 the neatness of their plumage. So great is the effect 
 of cleanliness upon man that it extends even to his 
 moral character. Virtue never dwelt long with 
 filth ; nor do I believe there ever was a person scru- 
 pulously attentive to cleanliness who was a consum- 
 mate villain." 
 
 DAVID EVERETT, 
 Oite of the band of accomplished contributors to 
 the Farmer's Museum, and a political editor him- 
 self of note, was born in 1769 at Princeton, 
 
 Massachusetts. He fitted himself for Dartmouth 
 College, and is on the list of graduates for the 
 year 1795, when he delivered a valedictory 
 Poem, with this generous prophecy of the growth 
 of the country : — 
 
 The Muse prophetic views the coming day, 
 ■When federal laws beyond the line shall sway : 
 Where Spanish indolence inactive lies, 
 And every art and every virtue dies ; 
 Where pride and avarice their empire hold, 
 Ignobly great, and poor amid their gold, — 
 Columbia's genius shall the mind inspire, 
 And fill each breast with patriotic fire. 
 Nor east nor western oceans shall confine 
 The generous flame that dignifies the mind; 
 O'er all the earth shall Freedom's banner wave, 
 The tyrant blast and liberate the slave : 
 Plenty and peace shall spread from pole to pole, 
 Till earth's grand family possess one soul.* 
 
 Previously to entering college, he was a teach- 
 er in the grammar-school at- New Ipswich, where 
 he wrote the famous juvenile schoolboy recita- 
 tion for one of his pupils, Ephraim Farrar, which 
 has been made so well known to the public in 
 Bingham'sf Columbian Orator : — 
 
 LINES BPOKES AT A SCHOOL EXHIBITION, BY A LITTLE BOY 
 SEVEN YEAES OLD. 
 
 You'd scarce expect one of my age 
 
 To speak in public on the stage ; 
 
 And if I chance to fall below 
 
 Demosthenes or Cicero, 
 
 Don't view me with a critic's eye, 
 
 But pass my imperfections by. 
 
 Large streams from little fountains flow ; 
 
 Tall oaks from little acorns grow ; 
 
 And though I now am small and young, 
 
 Of judgment weak and feeble to;igue, 
 
 Yet all great learned men, like me, 
 
 Once learned to read their A, B, C. 
 
 But why may not Columbia's soil 
 
 Bear men as great as Britain's isle ? — 
 
 Exceed what Greece and Rome have done? — 
 
 Or any land beneath the sun ? 
 
 Mayn't Massachusetts boast as great 
 
 As any other sister State ? 
 
 Or where's the town, go far and near, 
 
 That does not find a rival here ? 
 
 Or where's the boy but three feet high 
 
 Who's made improvement more than I ? 
 
 These thoughts inspire my. youthful mind 
 
 To be the greatest of mankind : 
 
 Great, not like Caesar, stained with blood, 
 
 But only great as I am good.}: 
 
 Everett studied law in Boston, and wrote for 
 Russell's Gazette and other newspapers, including 
 
 * Loring's " Hundred Boston Orators." 
 ■ + Caleb Bingham, the compiler of this production, almost as 
 well known, in its way, as Webster's Spelling: Book, was a 
 school teacher, and afterwards a bookseller of Boston, and had 
 been a graduate of Dartmouth in 17S2. As a director of the 
 State prison, he interested himself in tbe instruction of the 
 younger criminals. He was a Jeffersonian in politics. His 
 school books were, besides the Columbian Orator, the Ameri- 
 can Preceptor, a book of selections for reading, Young Lady's 
 Accidence. He also wrote a narrative entitled The Hunters, 
 tie died in 1S17, at the age of sixty. — Allen's Biog. Diet. 
 
 $ Mr. Loring, in his Boston Orators, gives an account of Far- 
 rar, the original speaker of the lines, and quotes some remarks 
 by Edward Everett, at a High School Examination, at Cam- 
 bridge, July 23, 1S50, in which he alludes to this '"favorite lit- 
 tle poem, which many persons have done me the honor to 
 ascribe to me, but which was in reality written by a distant 
 relative and namesake of mine, and, if I mistake not, before I 
 was born." 
 
SAMUEL MILLER. 
 
 569 
 
 the Farmer's Museum, then under the manage- 
 ment of Deunie, where his prose papers, Common 
 Sense in Dishabille, became quite popular. They 
 were of an epigrammatic turn, employed chiefly 
 with utilitarian remarks on frugality and tempe- 
 rance, in the manner of Franklin, and were col- 
 lected in 1799 in a small volume. The same 
 year was also published, from the same source, 
 his Farmer's Monitor. He contributed also to a 
 literary paper called the Nightingale in 1796. 
 
 Everett wrote a tragedy called Daranzel, or 
 the Persian Patriot, which was acted and pub- 
 lished at Boston in 1800. It is called, on the title- 
 page, "an original drama," and, to the author's 
 name, i-i added, " corrected and improved by a 
 literary friend." Original it was, in reference to 
 the productions then, as now, taken from foreign 
 authors for the American stage ; but its composi- 
 tion belongs to a large class of English produc- 
 tions, happily long since antiquated. Any one 
 who turns over the dramatic writings of the 
 eighteenth century, will meet with abundance of 
 such Oroastos, Indamoras, and Zaphiras as figure 
 in this piece: such stratagems, prisons, and 
 despair — 
 
 Where Melancholy cannot count her sighs, 
 And sorrow keeps no calendar but tears. 
 
 Act v. so. i. 
 
 Judged, however, by its own literary fashion, it 
 is not without its moderate elegances and proprie- 
 ties. A few lines of the Prologue will show its 
 scope, and its appeal to American patriotism : — 
 
 "While in the court the supple pander shines, 
 And cheerless virtue in the dungeon pines ; 
 The elder world's disasters rise to view, 
 To foil the stubborn virtues of the new : 
 While these in contrast on the stage appear, — 
 There the proud despot — the firm patriot here ; 
 That rob'd in power, this arm'd with nature's laws: 
 From scenes like these the bard his moral draws. ' 
 
 In the Prologue also, the author himself ap- 
 pears, to ask that indulgence from the public, and 
 that deprecation of the critic's eye which his lit- 
 tle pupils and their descendants have so often 
 supplicated from more indulgent circles of family 
 friends : — 
 
 To captious critics, versed in scenic laws, 
 He dares not trust the merits of his cause. 
 View then, ye lib'ral, with a candid eye, 
 Kill not the bird that first attempts to fly ; 
 But aid his efforts with parental care, 
 'Till his weak pinions learn to ply the air : 
 'Till the young pupil dare aloft to rise, 
 And soar, with bolder flights, his native skies. 
 
 In 1801, Everett delivered a Fourth of July 
 Oration at Amherst, and in September, a Masonic 
 Oration, at Washington, N. II. In 1809 he 
 edited the Boston Patriot, and in 1812 The Pilot, 
 a paper in the interest of De Witt Clinton for the 
 presidency. He wrote a series of papera on the 
 Apocalypse, which were published in a pamphlet- 
 He left Boston in 1813 for Marietta, Ohio, with 
 the purpose of establishing a newspaper, but 
 death interrupted his plans at that place, Dec. 
 21, of the same year.* 
 
 * Kartell's American Poetry, ii. 113; Buckingham's News- 
 paper Literature, ii. 212; Loiing's Hundred Boston Orators. 
 3ded.8«. 
 
 SAMUEL MILLEE, 
 TnE author of the Retrospect of the Eighteenth 
 Century, a work still valued for its taste, j udg- 
 ment, and fidelity, was born in 1769 in the town 
 of Dover in Delaware, the son of a Scottish cler- 
 gyman, who passed forty-three years of ministe- 
 rial duty in that place, one among the many ex- 
 amples of sound literary and family influence ra- 
 diating from the old American pulpit. 
 
 ^yCoryu^ul yi/jMn^ 
 
 The life of Samuel Miller was passed in pasto- 
 ral duties as a Presbyterian clergyman in New 
 York, which he discharged for twenty years from 
 1793, and as Professor of Ecclesiastical History 
 and Church Government in the Theological Semi- 
 nary of Princeton, to which he was called in 1813, 
 and which he held for thirty-six years, till his 
 decease Jan. 7, 1850. During this period of edu- 
 cational service he was contemporary in the insti- 
 tution with the sincere and amiable Alexander, 
 wdiose son, in the recently published memoirs of 
 his father, has paid a generous tribute to his me- 
 mory. " Dr. Miller," says he, " came from the 
 training of city life, and from an eminently 
 polished and literary circle. Of fine person and 
 courtly manners, he set a high value on all that 
 makes society dignified and attractive. He was 
 pre-eminently a man of system and method, go- 
 verning himself, even in the minutest particulars, 
 by exact rule. His daily exercise was measured 
 to the moment ; and for half a century he wroto 
 standing. He was a gentleman of the old school, 
 though as easy as he was noble in his bearing; 
 full of conversation, brilliant in company, rich in 
 anecdote, and universally admired. As a preacher 
 he was clear without brilliancy, accustomed to 
 laborious and critical preparation, relying little on 
 the excitement of the occasion, but rapid with 
 his pen, and gifted with a tenacious memory and 
 a strong sonorous voice; always instructive, al- 
 ways calm, always accurate."* 
 
 Miller's Brief Retrospect of the Eighteenth 
 Century, containing a Sketch of the Revolutions 
 and Improvements in Science, Arts, and Literature 
 during that period, was published in two volumes 
 in 1803. It was executed with care and in a ju- 
 dicious spirit, enhanced by its pleasing style. Its 
 survey of the progress of the intellectual elements 
 of society was full and fair for the period, and 
 may still be consulted with profit and pleasure. 
 The portion devoted to the early American litera- 
 ture, the scholars and men of letters who promot- 
 ed the education of the infant state, is in a spirit 
 which all succeeding writers who traverse the 
 ground may bo emulous of. It is thoughtful, pa- 
 triotic, and sincere. This work originally grew 
 out of a pastoral discourse delivered by the author 
 on the first day of the new century, and was dedi- 
 cated to John Dickinson, the author of the Far- 
 mer's Letters. It includes the consideration of 
 the mechanical sciences, chemistry, medicine, 
 
 * Life of Archibald Alexander, p. 380. 
 
570 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 mathematics and some of its applications, the 
 fine arts, and a liberal discussion of literature in 
 its several departments of original composition, 
 and in the advancement and study of the ancient 
 and oriental and of the European languages. This 
 formed but the first part of a contemplated work, 
 the other three portions of which were to embrace 
 Theology, Morals, and Religion, and to present 
 " the great events in the Christian Church, in the 
 Moral World, and in Political Principles and Esta- 
 blishments during the century," a comprehensive 
 design which the author never carried out. 
 
 From 1805 to 1814 Dr. Millerwas Correspond- 
 ing Secretary to the New York Historical So- 
 ciety. He delivered before that body, A Dis- 
 course designed to Commemorate the Discovery 
 of New Tori, September 4, 18U9, being the com- 
 pletion of the second century since that event* 
 
 In 1813 he published in an octavo volume of 
 more than four hundred pages the Memoirs of his 
 associate the Rev. Dr. John Rodgers, pastor of 
 the Wall street and Brick Churches in New York.t 
 It contains a narrative of the growth of the Pres- 
 byterian Church in New York, with much histo- 
 rical information of general interest expressed 
 with elegance of style. Of the learning of the 
 old school of clergymen in the country he says : — 
 
 Many persons are apt to suppose that the race of 
 divines who flourished in our country seventy or 
 eighty years ago, though pious and excellent men, 
 hnd a very scanty' supply of books, and in many 
 eases a still more scanty education, compared with 
 the divines of later years, and especially of the pre- 
 sent day. This opinion i3 not only erroneous but 
 grossly so. Those venerable fathers of the Ameri- 
 can Church were more deeply learned than most of 
 their sons. They read more, and thought more, 
 than we are ready to imagine. The greater part of 
 the books of ancient learning and ponderous erudi- 
 tion, which are now to be found on this side of the 
 Atlantic, were imported and studied by those great 
 and good men. Original works are actually in fewer 
 hands, in our day, compared with the number of 
 readers, than in theirs. They read solidly and 
 deeply : we hurry over eompends and indexes. 
 They studied systematically as veil as extensively ; 
 our reading is more desultory, as well as more super- 
 ficial. We have more of the belles-lettres polish, 
 but as biblical critics, and as profound theologians, 
 we must undoubtedly yield to them the palm of ex- 
 cellence. 
 
 This is well said in reference to the labors of 
 the old American fathers. It should be remem- 
 bered that it was written in 1813, and that Dr. 
 Miller lived to -ee a new, thorough, and profound 
 course of theological study established in the 
 country. 
 
 In 1827 he published Letters on Clerical Man- 
 ners and Habits ; addressed to a Student in the 
 
 * Colls. N. T. Hist Soc. vol. i. 
 
 + John Eodgers, "whose name is remembered with great re- 
 spect in New York, was a native of Boston. Mass., born in 1727, 
 of Irish parentage. He was a disciple of Wbitefield asayouth, 
 and was educated at the Academy of the Eev. Samuel Blair 
 at Fog's Manor in Chester county, Pa. He was with Davies 
 the preacher (afterwards President of Princeton) in Virginia. 
 He came to New York in 1765. His degree of Doctor of Divi- 
 nity was conferred by the University of Edinburgh, through 
 the agency of three distinguished persons. Whitcfield sug- 
 
 fested the matter to Franklin, who obtained the favor through 
 )r. Eobertson. Iu the Eevolutionary war he was a correspon- 
 dent of Washington. He died in New York, May 7, 1611, in 
 bis eighty-fourth year. 
 
 Tlieological Seminary at Princeton; in which 
 he reviews the various positions of the clergyman ; 
 in his study, in society, his mode of writing, 
 thinking, and conversation; in the economy of 
 health, usefulness, reputation, and the preserva- 
 I tion of a sound, judicious piety. 
 
 In 1840 Dr. Miller published his Memoir of the 
 Item. Charles Nisbet* the first President of Dick- 
 inson College, whose acquaintance he had made 
 in 1791, when he visited him at Carlisle to seek 
 the opportunity of hearing his course of Theolo- 
 gical Lectures, a genial specimen of biography, 
 with much interest in the copious and interesting 
 original material. 
 
 Edward Miller, the brother of the preceding, 
 was born at Dover May 9, 1760. He was educat- 
 ed at the Academy at Newark in Delaware, con- 
 ducted with eminent ability by two clergymen, 
 Doctor Francis Allison and Alexander McDowell. 
 He studied medicine at Dover with Dr. Charles 
 Ridgely, and afterwards in 1781-2 in the Military 
 hospital at Baskingridge, New Jersey. In the 
 last year he embarked as surgeon in an armed 
 ship bound for France, and in a year's absence 
 acquired a knowledge of the French language. 
 He returned to pursue his profession in Delaware, 
 and in 1796 became a practitioner of medicine in 
 New York, where he engaged with Dr. Mitchill 
 and Dr. Elihu H. Smith in the publication of the 
 first journal of the kind ever printed in the coun- 
 try, the Medical Repository, commenced in 1797. 
 Its conductors were members of a "Friendly 
 Club," which was a nucleus at its weekly recep- 
 tions for the intellect of the city. Dunlap, who 
 wrote an account of Miller,* has left a record of 
 tins social circle in New York, which also includ- 
 ed, besides himself then Manager of the New 
 York Theatre, James Kent then Recorder of the 
 city, Anthony Bleecker the lawyer and master in 
 chancery, Charles Brockden Brown, William 
 Walton Woolsey, George Muirson Woolsey, John 
 Wells the lawyer, William Johnson the Supreme 
 Court reporter, and the Rev. Dr. Samuel Miller. 
 
 Edward Miller died March 17, 1812. 
 
 His writings on medical topics, including his 
 report on the yellow fever, were published in a 
 volume. His medical reputation stood high, and 
 his literary and social qualities endeared him to 
 his friends. 
 
 DE WITT CLINTON. 
 
 TriE name of Clinton has long been eminent in 
 the annals of New York. George Clinton was 
 the governor of the province from 1743 to 1753, 
 and the name of his son, Sir Henry Clinton, is 
 familiar to every reader of the history of the 
 American Revolution. 
 
 These were, however, but distantly related to 
 the family with whom we are concerned. The 
 first who is mentioned of the direct ancestors of 
 De Witt Clinton was William Clinton, an officer 
 in the army of Charles the First. After the exe- 
 cution of that monarch he took refuge in the 
 north of Ireland, where he died, leaving an orphan 
 son, James, only two years of age. 
 
 * Memoir of the Eev. Charles Nisbet, D.D., late President 
 of Dickinson College, Carlisle. New York : Carter. 12mo. 
 pp. 857. 
 
 t The Monthly Eecorder, New York, April, 1818. 
 
BE WITT CLINTON. 
 
 571 
 
 His son, on arriving at man's estate, visited 
 England for the purpose of endeavoring to re- 
 cover his patrimony, which had been confiscated. 
 He failed in this, bat was successful in a suit of 
 a matrimonial nature, as he returned home with 
 a bride, Elizabeth, the daughter of a Captain 
 Smith, formerly of Cromwell's army. Their son 
 Charle-i, born in 1690, organized in 1729 a large 
 body of emigrants, and sailed with them for Ame- 
 rica. They landed at Cape Cod. In 1731 Clin- 
 ton purchased land in Ulster county, eight miles 
 west of the Hudson, and built a house surrounded 
 by a palisade to protect himself from the Indians. 
 Here he resided until his death, November 19, 
 1773. He left four sons, Alexander, Charles, 
 James, a brigadier-general in the Revolutionary 
 army, who died in 1812, and George, also a bri- 
 gadier-general in the army, and Governor of the 
 State of New York, from the formation of the 
 constitution in 1777 to 1795, and afterwards from 
 1801 to 1804. He wa^ elected Vice-President 
 of the United States in 1804, and died in that 
 office, 1812. 
 
 De Witt Clinton, the son of General James Clin- 
 ton and Mary De Witt, was born March 2, 1769, 
 at his fathers residence in Orange county, N. Y. 
 He was prepared for college at the academy un- 
 der the charge of Mr. John Addison at Kingston, 
 almost the only school of eminence open in the 
 state during the Revolution, entered the junior 
 class of Columbia College in 1784, and was the 
 first student received by that institution under its 
 new organization after the war. He was one of 
 the graduating class in 1786. Clinton studied 
 law with Samuel Jones, and was admitted to the 
 bar. He was shortly after appointed private se- 
 cretary of his uncle, George Clinton, the governor 
 of the state, and retained the office until a change 
 of administration in 1795. 
 
 In 1797 he was elected a member of the house 
 of assembly, in 1798 a state senator, and in 1801 
 a Senator of the United States. In 1S03 he was 
 chosen Mayor of the City of New York, and, 
 with a single exception, annually re-elected until 
 1S15. In 1817 he was elected Governor of the 
 State of New York, and re-elected in 1820. In 
 1822 ho declined again appearing as a candidate. 
 
 In 1823, after the celebration at Albany of the 
 completion- of the great work with which his 
 name is inseparably identified, ho was removed 
 from the office of canal commissioner. This un- 
 just and absurd proceeding aroused the feelings 
 of the people of the state so warmly in his favor 
 that he was elected governor of the state in 1824 
 by a majority of 20,000. He remained in office 
 until his sudden death, February 11, 1828. 
 
 Clinton was an active promoter of the free- 
 school and other great educational movements of 
 the state. He was also an influential member of 
 the literary and scientific, associations of his time, 
 and a liberal promoter of the charitable institu- 
 tions of the state and city. His occasional ad- 
 drosses before these institutions constitute Ins 
 chief literary labors. 
 
 Clinton was Vice-President of the New York 
 Historical Society from 1810 to 1817, and Presi- 
 dent from 1817 to 1820. He was always a great 
 promoter of its interests. In 1811 he delivered 
 his elaborate Discourse on the Iroquois, at an an- 
 hiversary meeting of that body. In 1S14 he drew 
 
 I up a memorial to the legislature in its behalf, in 
 which he classified the history of the state under 
 four periods: of the aborigines, the Dutch occu- 
 pancy for about half a century, the English rule 
 for more than a century, and the period since the 
 Revolution, showing the measures necessary to 
 be taken at each stage for the preservation of the 
 national records. A grant was received in con- 
 sequence from the legislature, which secured to 
 the society means for the purchase of a large por- 
 tion of its valuable library. 
 
 In the same year, 1814, he delivered his Intro- 
 ductory Discourse before the Literary and Philo- 
 sophical Society of New York, of which he was 
 president. It is an exhaustive scholar's review of 
 the pa-t and present state of literature and science, 
 describing the impediments to their cultivation in 
 the colony of New York under the general provin- 
 cial influences, the population speaking a foreign 
 language for a time ; the confusion of the Revo- 
 lution; the evils of party spirit afterwards, with 
 the absence, in consequence of the industrial de- 
 mands of the state, of a literary class by profes- 
 sion : while he finds new advantages in the free- 
 dom of the state, the growth of commerce, and a 
 perpetual incentive to the excitement of genius in 
 the pure and healthful climate. From these reflec- 
 tions he passes to the consideration of the pecu- 
 liar objects of the Society, presenting the claims 
 and opportunities of the studies of geology, zo- 
 ology, botany; agriculture, and medicine. The 
 notes and illustrations, which constitute three 
 times the bulk of the text, are a repository of in- 
 teresting and profitable reading on these various 
 themes. In these matters Clinton was in earnest ; 
 and when the wags of the day, who opposed his 
 politics, mixed up his literature and science with 
 their ridicule, he showed that he was master of 
 these lighter weapons as well. The satirists, who 
 amused themselves with his grave, philosophical 
 pursuits, were made to feel the edge of his wit 
 and pleasantry. 
 
 In 1820 Clinton sketched the incidents of a 
 tour to the west, along the line of the Erie canal, 
 in a series of letters written in the character of 
 an Irish gentleman travelling in America, which 
 were published in the New York Statesman, and 
 afterwards collected in a volume, in 1822, with 
 the title, letters on the Natural History and In- 
 ternal Resources of the State of New York. They 
 present a curious picture of the novel topics of in- 
 terest at this recent period, in what is now, 
 thanks to such laborers as Clinton, so well de- 
 veloped and thoroughly familiar a region. The 
 freshness of his fancy, and activity of his mind, 
 give a zest to his minute observations of natural 
 scenery, climate, and productions, constantly en- 
 livened by his ardent nationality, and taste for 
 poetic and literary cultivation. The Letters of 
 Ilibernicus are genial and animated throughout, 
 and well deserve to be annotated, and find a 
 home, which would have been a consummation 
 of the author's literary ambition, in the thousands 
 of school-district libraries which now adorn his 
 native state. 
 
 The Hon. W. W. Campbell has reprinted, in the 
 Life and Writings of Clinton, his private journal 
 of his exploration in 1810, in company with other 
 commissioners, of the central portion of the state 
 with reference to the proposed Erie canal. It is 
 
572 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 a pleasant off-hand record, and gives a curious 
 picture of the primitive days of Western New 
 York. This was one of his first public services 
 in reference to this great state enterprise, pro- 
 nounced by President Madison too great an un- 
 dertaking for the resources of the entire Union to 
 accomplish. Clinton had faith then and ever in 
 its feasibility and advantages. He continued its 
 firmrand active promoter and friend until he 
 passed in triumph down its entire length, and 
 poured the waters of Erie into the Atlantic ocean. 
 
 Clinton was twice married. His first wife was 
 Maria, eldest daughter of Walter Franklin ; and 
 his second Catharine, daughter of Dr. Thomas 
 Jones, "all of this city." In 1853 a noble colos- 
 sal statue of bronze, modelled and cast by II. K. 
 Browne, was placed by a public subscription over 
 his remains in Greenwood Cemetery. 
 
 In person Governor Clinton was over six feet 
 in height, and well proportioned. His counte- 
 nance displayed an ample forehead, regular fea- 
 tures, and an amiable and dignified expression. 
 As a public speaker he was impressive, but not 
 animated.* 
 
 PROVINCIAL INFLUENCES ON LITERATURE — FROM THE DISCOURSE 
 BEFORE THE LITERARY AND 1'IIILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 There is something in the nature of provincial 
 government which tends to engender faction, and to 
 prevent the expansion of intellect. It inevitably 
 creates two distinct interests; one regarding the 
 colony as subservient in every respect to the mother 
 country, and the other rising up in opposition to this 
 assumption. The governor and principal magistrates 
 who derive their appointments from an extrinsic 
 source, feel independent of the people over whom 
 they are placed. The operation of this principle has 
 been powerfully experienced in our territorial go- 
 vernments, which have been the constant theatre of 
 intestine divisions; and when the human mind is 
 called away from the interest of science, to aid, by 
 its faculties, the agitations of party, little can be ex- 
 pected from energies thus perverted and abused. The 
 annals of our colonial state present a continual con- 
 troversy between the ministers of the crown, and the 
 representatives of the people. What did the governor 
 and judges care for a country wdiere they were 
 strangers? where their continuance w r as transient; 
 and to which they were attached by no tie that 
 reaches the human heart. Their offices emanated 
 from another country ; — to that source they looked 
 for patronage and support, to that alone their views 
 extended ; and having got, what Archimedes wanted, 
 another world on which to erect their engines, they 
 governed this at pleasure. 
 
 The colonial governors were, generally speaking, 
 little entitled to respect. They were delegated to 
 this country not as men qualified to govern, but as 
 men whose wants drove them into exile ; not as men 
 entitled by merit to their high eminence, but as men 
 who owed it to the solicitations of powerful friends 
 and to the influence of court intrigue. Thus circum- 
 stanced and thus characterized, is it wonderful to 
 find them sometimes patrolling the city disguised in 
 female dress; at other times assailing the representa- 
 tives of the people with the most virulent abuse, 
 and defrauding the province by the most despicable 
 acts of peculation ; and at all times despising know- 
 
 * Hosack's Memoir of De Witt Clinton ; James Renwick's 
 Life of Clinton ; W. W. Campbell's Life and Writings of Clin- 
 ton ; article on Clinton, by LL T. Tuckerman, N. A. Review, 
 Oct., 1854. 
 
 ledge, and overlooking the public prosperity ? Justice, 
 however, requires that we should except from this 
 censure Hunter and Burnet. Hunter was a man of 
 wit, a correspondent of Swift, and a friend of 
 Addison. Burnet, the son of the celebrated Bishop 
 of Salisbury, was devoted to literature ; they were 
 the best governors that ever presided over the 
 colony. 
 
 The love of fame is the most active principle of our 
 nature. To be honoured when living — to be vene- 
 rated when dead — is the parent source of those 
 writings which have illuminated — of those actions 
 Which have benefited and dazzled mankind. All 
 that poetry has created, that philosophy has dis- 
 covered, that heroism has performed, may be princi- 
 pally ascribed to this exalted passion. True it is, 
 
 When fame's loud trump hatb blown its noblest blast, 
 Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last; 
 And glory, like the phoenix 'midst her fires, 
 Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires. 
 
 Lord Byeon. 
 
 Yet, as long as man is susceptible of sublime 
 emotions, so long will he commit himself to this 
 master feeling of a noble nature. What would 
 have become of the sublime work of Milton, if he 
 had written for the fifteen pounds which he received 
 from the bookseller; and where would have been 
 the writings of Bacon, if he had not aspired to im- 
 mortal fame? " My name and memory," said this 
 prince of philosophers, in his will, " I leave to foreign 
 nations, and to my own countrymen after some time 
 be passed over." When with one hand he demolished 
 the philosophy of the schools, and with the other 
 erected a magnificent temple dedicated to truth and 
 genuine knowledge, he was animated in his pro- 
 gress, and cheered in his exertions by the persuasion 
 that after ages would erect an imperishable monu- 
 ment to his fame. 
 
 But in order that this passion may have its full 
 scope and complete operation, it is not only necessary 
 that there should be a proper subject, but a suitable 
 place, and an enlightened public. The actor, in 
 order to act well his part, must have a good theatre 
 and a respectable audience. Would Demosthenes 
 and Cicero have astonished mankind by their oratory, 
 if they had spoken in Sparta or in Carthage ? would 
 Addison have written his Spectators in Kamtschatka, 
 or Locke his work on the Understanding at Madrid? 
 destroy the inducement to act, take awaj r the capa- 
 city to judge, and annihilate the value of applause, 
 and poetry sinks into dulness ; philosophy loses its 
 powers of research ; and eloquence evaporates into 
 froth and mummery. 
 
 A provincial government, like ours before the 
 revolution, was entirely incompetent to call into 
 activity this ennobling propensity of our nature. 
 A small population, scattered over an extensive 
 country, and composed almost entirely of strangers 
 to literature ; a government derivative and depen- 
 dent, without patronage and influence, ■ and in 
 hostility to the public sentiment ; a people divided 
 into political and religious parties, and a parent 
 country watching all their movements with a step- 
 mother's feelings, and keeping down their prosperity 
 with the arm of power, could not be expected to 
 produce those literary worthies who have illuminated 
 the other hemisphere. 
 
 History justifies the remark that free governments, 
 although happier in themselves, are as oppressive to 
 their provinces as despotic ones. It was a common 
 saying in Greece, that a free man in Sparta was the 
 freest man: and a slave, the greatest slave in the 
 world. This remark may be justly applied to the 
 ancient republics which had provinces under their 
 control. The people of the parent country were 
 
DE WITT CLINTON. 
 
 573 
 
 free, and those remote were harassed with all kinds 
 of exactions, borne down by the high hand of op- 
 pression, and under the subjection of a military 
 despotism. The colonial system of modern times is 
 equally calculated to build up the mother country 
 011 the depression of its colonies. That all their ex- 
 ports shall go to, and all their imports be derived 
 from it, is the fundamental principle. Admitting oc- 
 casional departures from this system, is it possible 
 that an infant country, so bandaged and cramped, 
 could attain to that maturity of growth, which is 
 essential to the promotion ami encouragement of 
 literature? Accordingly we do not find in an} 7 colony 
 of modern times any peculiar devotion to letters, or 
 any extraordinary progress in the cultivation of the 
 human mind. The most fertile soil — the most be- 
 nign climate — all that nature can produce, and art 
 can perfect, are incompetent to remove the be- 
 numbing effects which a provincial and dependent 
 position operates upon the efforts of genius. 
 
 PARTIES — FROM TnE LETTERS OF mnERNTCtTS. 
 
 Canandaigua, June, 1820. 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 In every country or village inn, the bar-room is 
 the coffee room, exchange, or place of intelligence, 
 where all the quidnuncs, newsmongers, and politi- 
 cians of the district resort, and where strangers and 
 travellers make their first entry. Neither my taste, 
 my habits, nor my convenience will admit of gorge- 
 ous or showy equipments, and when I therefore take 
 my seat in the caravanseras, there is nothing in my 
 appearance to attract particular attention. Many a 
 person with whom I have held conversations, has 
 undoubtedly forgotten the subject, as well as the 
 company. In the desultory and rapid manner in 
 which such conferences are generally managed, a 
 stranger is liable to mistake names and titles of office. 
 I have no doubt but this has been my case fre- 
 quently: I may have styled a major a colonel, and 
 a sheriff a judge, and if so, I assure you without the 
 most distant idea of giving offence. 
 
 Curs'd be the verse however sweet they flow, 
 "Which tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
 Give virtue scandal, innocence afear, 
 Or from tho meek-ey'd virgin draw a tear. 
 
 Volney told me in Paris, that he travelled all over 
 the west on foot. My countrymen, Dr. M'Nevin and 
 Dr. Goldsmith, perambulated a great portion of 
 Europe; and Wilson, the father of American Orni- 
 thology, was almost always a pedestrian traveller. 
 How cautious ought people to be when in company 
 with strangers. I have heard folly from the mouths 
 of lawgivers, and ribaldry in the conversations of 
 the notables of the land. Unnoticed, unobserved, 
 reclining on my chair in the bar-room, I have seen 
 human nature without disguise — the artificial great 
 man exhibiting his importance — the humble under- 
 strapper listening like a blacksmith to a tailor's news 
 — the oracle of the place mounted on his tripod, and 
 pronouncing his opinions with solemn gravity. O ! 
 if I had been recognised as a traveller from the 
 eastern world — a keen observer of human nature — 
 and a recorder of what I saw, I humbly hope that 
 much nonsense would have been spared, and many 
 improper exhibitions prevented ; but then I would 
 have seen man at a masquerade. I now derive light 
 from my obscurity, and observe thi3 world as it is. 
 My plain dress, my moderate expenditures, my un- 
 obtrusive behaviour, avert particular remark. It is 
 only in the society of such men as I meet with in 
 this place, that I am considered as of the least im- 
 portance. The prevalent conversations all over this 
 federal republic, are on the subjects of political ex- 
 citement. After some sage remarks on the weather, 
 which compose the exordium of all conversations, 
 
 the man of America, like the man of Athens, asks, 
 What news ? It is needless to say, that I have 
 steered entirely clear of political and theological 
 strife. I hardly understand the nomenclature of 
 parties. They are all republicans, and yet a portion 
 of the people assume the title of republican, as an 
 exclusive right, or patent monopoly. They are all 
 federalists, that is, in favor of a general government 
 — and yet a party arrogate to themselves this ap- 
 pellation to the disparagement of the others. It is 
 easy to see that the difference is nominal — that the 
 whole controversy is about office, and that the 
 country is constantly assailed by ambitious dema- 
 gogues, for the purpose of gratifying their cupidity. 
 It is a melancholy, but true reflection on human 
 nature, that the smaller the difference the greater the 
 animosity. Mole hills and rivulets become moun- 
 tains and rivers. The Greek empire was ruined by 
 two most inveterate factions, the Prasini and Vineti, 
 which originated in the color of livery in equestrian 
 races. The parties of Guelphs and Gibbelines, of 
 Roundheads and Cavaliers, of Whigs and Tories, con- 
 tinued after all causes, of difference were merged. 
 I have often asked some of the leading politicians 
 of this country, what constituted the real points of 
 discrimination between the Republicans and Fede- 
 ralists, and I never could get a satisfactory answer. 
 An artful man will lay hold of words if he cannot 
 of things, in order to promote his views. The Jan- 
 senists and the Jesuits, the Nominalists and the 
 Realists, the Sub-lapsarians, and the Supra-lapsarians, 
 were in polemics what the party controversies of 
 this people are in politics. If you place an ass at an 
 equal distance between two bundles of hay, will 
 he not remain there to all eternity? was a question 
 solemnly propounded and gravely debated by the 
 schoolmen. The motive to eat both, some contended, 
 being equal, it was impossible for the animal to come 
 to a conclusion. He would therefore remain in a 
 state of inaction, for ever and for ever. This pro- 
 blem, so puzzling to scholastic philosophers, would at 
 once be decided by the ass, and the experimentum 
 cruris would effectually silence every doubt. It is 
 impossible for a man, however quietly disposed, to 
 act the supposititious part of the scholastic ass, and 
 remain neutral between the parties, or bundles of 
 hay. He must in truth participate in one or in 
 both, and as it respects any radical difference of 
 principle, it is very immaterial which he selects. 
 There are some pendulum politicians who are con- 
 tinually oscillating between parties, and these men, 
 in endeavoring to expiate their former oppugnation 
 by fiery zeal, are mere firebrands in society. In 
 order to cover their turpitude, they assume high- 
 sounding names, and are in verity political partizans, 
 laying claim to be high-minded, and like Jupiter on 
 Olympus, elevated above the atmosphere of common 
 beings. And what adds infinitely to the force of 
 these pretensions, is to find the most of these gentry 
 to be the heroes of petty strife, and the leaders of 
 village vexation, the fag ends of the learned pro- 
 fessions, and the outcasts of reputable associations. 
 I often think of the observations of the honest old 
 traveller, Tournefort, when I see the inordinate 
 violence of these high-minded gentlemen. " The 
 Turk (says he), take 'em one with another, are much 
 honester men than renegadoes ; and perhaps it is out 
 of contempt that they do not circumcise renegadoes ; 
 for they have a common saying, that a bad Christian 
 will never make a good Turk." 
 
 LITERARY TASTE — FROM TnE LETTERS OF nrBEENICUS. 
 
 Western Region, August, 1820. 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 The beauties of an American sky are frequently 
 
571 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 unparalleled, and there is a peculiar lustre in the ap- 
 pearance of the morning star, which I have never 
 seen equalled in my native land. This planet, on 
 account of its propinquity to the earth, is only ex- 
 ceeded in apparent size by the moon, and on this 
 account, and its superior effulgence, it has very 
 naturally been a subject of poetical description. It 
 may relieve the monotony of my former communi- 
 cations, to refer to some passages in the most dis- 
 • tinguished poets on this subject. 
 
 Homer, in his fifth Iliad, in representing Diomede 
 under the influence of Pallas, says, 
 
 Fires on hi* helmet, and his shield around 
 She kindled bright and steady as the star 
 Autumnal, which in ocean newly bath'd, 
 Assumes fresh beauty. 
 
 The same allusion also occurs in Horace — 
 
 Merses profundo, pulchrior evenit. ' 
 
 Virgil in his 8th Eneid, says — 
 
 Qnalis uhi oceani perfusus Lucifer unda. 
 Quern Venus ante alios astrorum diligit ignes, 
 Extulit oa sacrum caelo tenebrasquc resolvit. 
 
 Lastly comes Milton, who 1 thus exclaims in his 
 
 Lycidas : — 
 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 
 And yet aoon repairs his drooping head, 
 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky. 
 
 If these extracts shall be considered as fair speci- 
 mens by which to compare poetic merit, in what 
 an illustrious light does Milton appear ? 
 
 A poet as well ns an orator, in order to be truly 
 great, ought to have a fertile imagination, under the 
 dominion of good taste. Those faults which result 
 from undisciplined genius, are however more tole- 
 rable than those which spring from sterility of mind. 
 In one of my solitary walks, I stopped at a farm- 
 house for refreshment, and I accidentally found an 
 old newspaper which contained an address from a 
 ci-devant governor to a great military commander, 
 on the presentation of a sword. The writer has 
 evidently put his mind into a state of violent ex- 
 ertion, and in striving to be sublime and magnifi- 
 cent, has shown a total incapacity in thought as 
 well as language. In speaking of a nocturnal battle 
 near the cataract of Niagara, he says that it pro- 
 duced a midnight rainbow, whose refulgence out- 
 shone the iris of the day. 
 
 This master-piece of the great orator and states- 
 man who wrote it, can only be excelled by the poet 
 quoted by Dryden, when he says — 
 
 Now when the winter's keener breath began 
 To ehrystalize the Baltic ocean, 
 To glaze the Lakes, to bridle up the floods, 
 And periwig with snow the bald pate woods. . 
 
 Or, perhaps, it is exceeded by the following eulo- 
 gium of a country school-master on General Wolfe. 
 
 Great General "Wolfe, without any fears, 
 Led on his brave grenadiers, 
 And what is most miraculous and particular, 
 He climb'd up rocks that were perpendicular. 
 
 And yet would you believe that the man who pro- 
 nounced that farrago of bombastic nonsense, has 
 been a governor, a vice-president, and God knows 
 what ; and that he is passed off as a paragon of wis- 
 dom, and an exemplar of greatness. "With intellect 
 not more than sufficient to preside over the shop- 
 board of a tailor, or to conduct the destinies of a 
 village school, he has, by the force of fortuitous 
 circumstances, attained to ephemeral consequence. 
 DAlembert has justly observed that " the apices of 
 the loftiest pyramids in church and state, are only 
 attained by eagles and reptiles." The history of 
 democracies continually exhibits the rise of perni- 
 
 cious demagogues warring against wisdom and virtue, 
 philosophy and patriotism — but why do I confine 
 this remark to any particular form of government? 
 The spirit of the observation will apply to human 
 nature in all its. forms and varieties. Even in the 
 Augustan age of Great Britain, Elkanah Settle was 
 set up as the rival of Dryden — and Stephen Duck was 
 put in competition with Pope. This levelling prin- 
 ciple gratifies two unworthy feelings ; it endeavors 
 to mortify the truly great by its flagrant injustice, 
 and it strives to lower them down to our own de- 
 pression of insignificance. Posterity, however, will 
 dispense justice with unerring hand, and with im- 
 partial distribution ; and the great men who are al- 
 most always assailed by calumny, and who are some- 
 times borne down by ingratitude, may, in considering 
 the benefits which they have rendered to the human 
 race, confidently appeal to heaven for their reward, 
 and to posterity for their justification. 
 
 DAVID HOSACK. 
 
 Doctor David Hosack, F.R.S., was born in tha 
 city of New York, August 31, 1769. His father, 
 a Scotchman, came to America with Lord Jeffrey 
 Amherst, upon the siege of Louisburg. His mo- 
 ther was the daughter of Francis Arden of New 
 York. He was educated at Columbia College and 
 at Princeton ; received his medical degree at Phi- 
 ladelphia in 1791 ; visited the schools of Edinburgh 
 and London, where he wrote a paper on Vision 
 which was published in the Transactions of the 
 Royal Society in 1794, and on his return to New 
 York filled the Professorship of Botany and Ma- 
 teria Medica in Columbia College. In the new 
 College of Physicians and Surgeons he taught Phy- 
 sic and Clinical Medicine, and was engaged in 
 the short-lived Rutgers Medical College. He was 
 eminent as a clinical instructor. He engaged with 
 Francis in the publication of the Medical and Phi- 
 losophical Register. His Medical Essays were 
 published in three octavo volumes, 1824-30. His 
 System of Practical Nosology was published in 
 18'29, and in an improved form in 1821. He 
 wrote discourses on Horticulture, on Temperance, 
 biographical notices of Rush and Wistar, and a 
 memoir in quarto of De Witt Clinton. The style 
 of these productions is full and elegant. From 
 1820 to 1828 he was President of the New York 
 Historical Society. A posthumous publication on 
 The Practice of Physic, edited by Dr. H. W. 
 Ducachet, one of his pupils, appeared in 1838. 
 
 ^7/« 
 
 Hosack was for more than thirty years a pro- 
 minent medical practitioner in New York, and, 
 fond of society, exercised a strong personal influ- 
 ence in the city. The Duke of Saxe-Weimar, 
 in his travels in America in 1825, mentions the 
 social importance of his Saturday evening parties, 
 where the professional gentlemen of the city and 
 distinguished foreigners were liberall} - enter- 
 tained. In all prominent movements connected 
 with the arts, the drama, medical and other local 
 institutions, and the state policy of internal im- 
 provements, Hosack bore a part. 
 

 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 575 
 
 He was twice married ; in the first instance to 
 a sister of Thomas Eddy, the benevolent Quaker 
 at the head of the hospitals and charitable insti- 
 tutions of the city. By his second wife, the 
 widow of Henry A. Costar, he became possessed 
 of a large income. 
 
 Dr. Hosack died of an attack of apoplexy at his 
 residence in Chambers Street, New York, De- 
 cember 23, 1835* 
 
 FREDERICK DALCHO, 
 
 A physician and clergyman of South Carolina, 
 was born in London. His father was a Polander 
 by birth, and an officer of considerable rank in one 
 of the European armies, we think of Hanover. 
 Having been severely wounded he went over to 
 England with his family, and lived a few years on 
 his pension. At his death his brother in Mary- 
 land invited the boy Frederick over to America, 
 and gave him an excellent education in Baltimore. 
 He studied medicine successfully, became a skil- 
 ful botanist, and obtained a commission in the 
 medical department of the American army. He 
 came with his division to South Carolina, and was 
 stationed with them at Fort Johnson in Charles- 
 ton Harbor. Hero some disagreement occurred 
 between him and his brother officers, under which 
 Dr. Dalcho resigned his commission, and became 
 a practitioner of medicine in Charleston. In 1800 
 he was associated with Dr. Isaac 'Auld, and be- 
 came a member of the Medical Society of South 
 Carolina. He was active in establishing the Bo- 
 tanic Garden, and continued several years one of 
 the Trustees of that Institution. 
 
 About the year 1810 Dr. Dalcho relinquished 
 his practice and became associated with Mr. A. 
 S. Willington in conducting the Courier, a daily 
 Federal newspaper. About the year 1811 he be- 
 came more than usually devoted to religions 
 reflections and studies. In 1812 he became Lay 
 Reader in St. Paul's Church, Colleton, and was 
 ordained Deacon on the loth of February, 1814, 
 by the Right Rev. Theodore Dehon. Having 
 been admitted to priest's orders by the Right Rev. 
 W. White of Pennsylvania, he was elected as- 
 sistant minister of St. Michael's Church, Charles- 
 ton, by a majority of the congregation in the year 
 1819. He continued with unabated zeal and piety 
 devoted to the advancement of religion in his pas- 
 toral charge, until his declining health called for 
 repose. His vestry would not part with him, but 
 gave leave of absence on a continued salary for an 
 indefinite time. He continued to decline in health, 
 and died on the 24th November, 1836, in the 
 67th year of his age, and the seventeenth of his 
 ministry in that church. 
 
 The religious publications of Dr. Dalcho were 
 few. One was on the Evidence of the Divinity 
 of our Saviour. The other is a work of high au- 
 
 * Memoir by Dr. J. W. Francis, in "Williams's American Me- 
 dical Biography. 
 
 thority, being An Historical Account of the Pro- 
 testant Episcopal Church in South Carolina* 
 and the early history of the State unavoidably 
 blended with that of the Church. This work is 
 quoted and referred to frequently by writers on 
 different questions incidental to such subjects. 
 
 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 The American Philosophical Society was 
 formed at Philadelphia on the second of January, 
 1769, by the union of two associations of a simi- 
 lar character, the American Philosophical Society, 
 and the American Society for promoting and pro- 
 pagating Useful Knowledge. The first of these ori- 
 ginated in a printed circular issued by Franklin, 
 dated May 14, 1743, entitled, A Proposal for 
 Promoting Useful Knowledge among the British 
 Plantations in America. The society seems to 
 have gone into immediate operation, as on the 5th 
 of April, 1744, Franklin writes to Cadwallader 
 Colden, " that the society, as far as it relates to 
 Philadelphia, is actually formed, and has had se- 
 veral meetings to mutual satisfaction." Thomas 
 Hopkinson was the first president. The minutes 
 of the society have been lost, so that the details 
 of its early history are unknown. Its meetings, 
 after having been kept up for about ten years, 
 were discontinued. 
 
 The second of the societies named was founded 
 in the year 1750. It was originally called the 
 Junto, and is supposed to have been formed by 
 the members of the old Junto, who, unwilling to 
 enlarge their own circle by the admission of new 
 members, were desirous of perpetuating its name 
 and usefulness. 
 
 In December, 1766, the admission of corres- 
 ponding members was decided upon, and the 
 name of the society changed to. " The American 
 Society for Promoting and Propagating Useful 
 Knowledge, held at Philadelphia.!' In 1768, 
 Charles Thomson (afterwards Secretary of Con- 
 gress), one of its leading members, prepared " Pro- 
 posals for enlarging this society, in order that it 
 may the better answer the end for which it was 
 instituted, namely, the promoting and propagating 
 useful knowledge." It embraces every depart- 
 ment of science in the scope of its proposed inqui- 
 ries, prominence being given to those of an imme- 
 diate practical character, and especially to agri- 
 culture. The paper is published in the first 
 volume of the Transactions. 
 
 Large additions of members were made, and on 
 the 23d of September a new coda of laws and a 
 new title, " The American Society, held at Phi- 
 ladelphia, for promoting Useful Knowledge," 
 adopted. On the fourth of November, at its first 
 election, Benjamin Franklin was chosen presi- 
 dent. 
 
 Meanwhile the members of the American Phi- 
 losophical Society, reduced, to six in number, re- 
 solved, in 1707, to resuscitate that institution. 
 They elected four new members in November of 
 that year, and forty-four in the January following. 
 John Penn, the governor of the province, con- 
 sented to become patron, and on the ninth of 
 
 * Historical Account of the Protestant Episcopal Church in 
 South Carolina, by Frederick Dalcho, M. L\ Charleston, S. C. 
 1S20. 
 
576 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 February, 1768, the Hon. James Hamilton was 
 elected president. 
 
 On the 22d of March the first scientific commu- 
 nication was made in " A Description of a New 
 Orrery, planned and now nearly finished by Da- 
 vid Rittenhouse, A.M." It is the first paper in 
 the Transactions. Preparations were made in the 
 same year for observing the approaching Transit 
 of Venus, which was to occur on the 3d of June, 
 1769. The society voted to construct an observ- 
 atory at Philadelphia, where, and also at Norri- 
 ton, observations were to be taken under its aus- 
 pices. Finding their means insufficient they, in 
 September, sought the aid of the legislature, who 
 voted a hundred pounds for the purchase of a 
 reflecting telescope. 
 
 On the 22d of January, 1769, the two societies 
 were united. An exciting contest took place«at 
 the first presidential election between Hamilton 
 and Franklin as the candidates, which resulted in 
 the election of the latter. 
 
 Additional aid being obtained from the legis- 
 lature, temporary observatories were soon after 
 erected in State-House square, Philadelphia, and I 
 Rittenhouse's residence at Norriton, and the de- 
 sired observations made, the weather proving ex- 
 tremely favorable, with great success at these 
 stations and from a building at Cape Henlopen. 
 
 In the same year the society instructed their 
 committee on American Improvements to inquire 
 as to " the best place for cutting a canal to join 
 the waters of the Delaware and Chesapeake, with 
 the probable expense that would attend the exe- 
 cution of it." An appeal for pecuniary aid in the 
 prosecution of the surveys was made to the mer- 
 chants of the city, and liberally responded to. 
 The report, recommending what is known as the 
 upper route, but declining to make an estimate of 
 the cost, "judging it an undertaking beyond the 
 ability of the country," appears in the first volume 
 of the Transactions. 
 
 Soon after the consolidation of the two societies 
 a committee was appointed to prepare a volume 
 for the jiress from papers read at the meetings. 
 A fist was reported in August, 1769, and on the 
 22d of February, 1771, the work appeared. 
 
 The next efforts of the society were devoted to 
 the manufacture of silk, and a company was 
 formed for the purpose under its auspices. En- 
 deavors were also made to introduce the culture 
 of the vine. The society was, like every insti- 
 tution of learning, suspended during the Revolu- 
 tion. It, however, resumed its labors before the 
 conclusion of the contest, re-as>embling on the 
 5th of March, 1779. It was incorporated March 
 15, 1780. In 1785 a lot of ground, 70 by 50 feet, 
 in State House square, facing Fifth street, was 
 granted to the society, who proceeded to erect a 
 hall, which was completed in 1791. Some 
 $3500 was obtained towards defraying the ex- 
 penses of the building* $540 of which were con- 
 tributed by Franklin. The society derive a small 
 revenue from the rental of the ground-floor of 
 this building. 
 
 The laws of the society (passed Feb. 3, 1769) 
 direct that its members " shall be classed into 
 one or more of the following committees — 
 
 "1. Geography, Mathematics, Natural Philoso- 
 phy, and Astronomy. 
 
 "2. Medicine and Anatomy. 
 
 " 3. Natural History and Chemistry. 
 
 " 4. Trade and Commerce. 
 
 " 5. Mechanics and Architecture. 
 
 "6. Husbandry and American Improvements." 
 
 The number of members is not limited. The 
 officers are, a patron (the governor of the state), 
 a president, three vice-presidents, a treasurer, 
 four secretaries, three curators, and twelve coun- 
 sellors. 
 
 On the death of Franklin, in 1791, David Rit- 
 tenhouse was elected president. 
 
 David EitteDhonse. 
 
 The family of Rittenhouse, at the commence- 
 ment of the last century, emigrated to New 
 York, and afterwards removed to Germantown, 
 Pennsylvania, where he was born, April 8, 1732. 
 His parents removed during his childhood to a 
 farm at Norriton, Montgomery county, about 
 twenty miles from Philadelphia, where his early 
 years were passed in agricultural pursuits. " It 
 was at this place," says his eulogist, Rush, " his 
 peculiar genius first discovered itself. His 
 plough, the fences, and even the stones of the 
 field in which he worked, were frequently 
 marked with figures, which denoted a talent 
 for mathematical studies." He also "made him- 
 self master" of Newton's Principia, and devoted 
 himself to the science of fluxions, "of which 
 sublime invention he believed himself to be the 
 author ; nor did he know for some years after- 
 wards, that a contest had been carried on be- 
 tween Sir Isaac Newton and Leibnitz for the 
 honor of that great and useful discovery." 
 
 His mechanical ingenuity was also early de- 
 veloped. At the age of seven he constructed a 
 complete water-mill in miniature, and ten years 
 after, having in the meantime received no instruc- 
 tion in the arts, made a wooden clock. Being 
 permitted by his parents to follow his own inclina- 
 tions in the choice of a livelihood, he abandoned 
 agriculture, and erecting a small work-shop by 
 the road-side on his father's land at Norriton, 
 commenced business as a clock and mathematical 
 instrument maker, many of his tools being the 
 work of his own hands. The astronomical clock 
 made by Rittenhouse, and used in his Observa- 
 tory, is now in the possession of the Society. 
 
 His mental development was much aided by a 
 friendship formed when he was about nineteen 
 with the Rev. William Barton, who not long 
 after married his sister. Barton was a young 
 Irishman, who had received a liberal education, 
 and possessed a few books. Rittenhouse, whose 
 
AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 577 
 
 early education had been limited, seized with 
 avidity the advantages thus opened to him, and 
 devoted himself to midnight stud}' after his daily 
 labors with such devotion, as to seriously impair 
 his health for the remainder of his life. 
 
 It was while thus employed that he construct- 
 ed his Orrery. The work was purchased by the 
 College of New Jersey ; and a second one, con- 
 structed by him on the same model, is now in 
 the possession of the University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Owing to the interest excited by this produc- 
 tion, he was induced to remove to Philadelphia 
 in 1770, where he continued in business for seve- 
 ral years. He was elected a member of the 
 Philosophical Society, and became a frequent 
 contributor to its Transactions. We find him in 
 August, 1773, making a report as chairman of a 
 committee appointed to examine the first steam- 
 engine erected in this country. " It was made 
 by Christopher Colles, for the purpose of pump- 
 ing up water at a distillery." The report states 
 that the engine " performed several strokes," but 
 in consequence of its execution being attempted 
 at a very low expense, it did not continue its 
 motion long. A favorable opinion is expressed 
 of the undertaking'.* 
 
 In 1 775 he delivered the annual oration before 
 the same body. The subject of his discourse 
 was Astronomy. 
 
 In 1779 he was employed by the State of Penn- 
 sylvania as one of the commissioners for settling 
 a disputed boundary between her territory and 
 that of Virginia. In 17S4, he performed a simi- 
 lar service on the western, and, in 1786, on the 
 northern boundary of his native state. In 1789, 
 he was employed in determining the boundary 
 line between New Jersey and New York, and, in 
 1787, between the latter state and Massachusetts. 
 "In his excursions through the wilderness," says 
 Rush, "he carried with him his habits of inquiry 
 and observation. Nothing in our mountains, soils, 
 rivers, and springs, escaped his notice. It is to be 
 lamented that his private letters and the memo- 
 ries of his friends are the only records of what 
 he collected upon these occasions." 
 
 Soon after his election as President of the Phi- 
 losophical Society, he gave a substantial proof of 
 his interest in the institution by a donation of 
 three hundred pounds. 
 
 In 1792, he was appointed a Director of the 
 United States Mint, an office from which he re- 
 tired three years after, in consequence of ill 
 health. 
 
 He died on the 26th of June, 1796, and, in ac- 
 cordance with his expressed wish, was buried 
 beneath the pavement of his observatory, in the 
 garden adjoining his residence. Dr. Ashbel 
 Green, whose church he attended, spoke at his 
 grave.t An eulogium upon him was delivered on 
 the 17th of December following, before the Phi- 
 losophical Society, by Dr. Benjamin Rush, and 
 his life, by his nephew, William Barton.! pub- 
 lished in 1813. 
 
 * E. M. Patterson's Address, p. 29. 
 t Life of Aslibcl Green, 42; 
 
 * Memoirs of the Life of David Eittenhouse, LL.D., F.E.S., 
 late President of the American Philosophical Society, &c. ; in- 
 terspersed with various notices of mnnv distinguished men, 
 with an Appendix, containing sundry philosophical and other 
 papers, most of which have riot hitherto been published. By 
 William Barton, A.M. Philadelphia, 1S13. 
 
 VOL. I. — 37 
 
 The best eulogy of his private character, when 
 we take in consideration the high position he had 
 gained for himself by his own exertions, is the 
 simple statement of his friend, Ashbel Green, 
 "He was, perhaps, the most modest man I ever 
 knew." 
 
 The presidency was next filled, for three year?, 
 by Thomas Jefferson. On his retirement, Dr. 
 Wistar became his successor. 
 
 Caspar Wistar was the grandson of an emigrant 
 from Germany in 1717, who established a glass 
 manufactory in New Jersey. His parents were 
 Quakers, residing in Philadelphia, where he was 
 born, September 13, 1761. In 1783, he visited 
 England, to complete his medical studies. He 
 returned to Philadelphia in January, 1787, having 
 in the meantime inherited a large fortune by the 
 death of his father, and commenced practice. In 
 1789, he was elected Professor of Chemistry, and, 
 in 1808, of Anatomy, in the University, which 
 acquired a high reputation as a medical schooWrora 
 his exertions and distinguished position, he being 
 regarded in Europe, as well as in his own country, 
 as one of the first medical authorities of his time. 
 He was elected, July 20, 1787, a member, and, 
 January 6, 1815, President, of the American 
 Philosophical Society, and so continued until his 
 death, January 22, 1818, contributing several 
 articles to the Transactions, 
 
 His chief production is, A System of Anatomy, 
 2 vols. 8vo. 1814. He enjoys a genial reputation, 
 in addition to his scientific honors, as the founder 
 of the Wistar parties, which, originally gather- 
 ings of his friends every Saturday at his own 
 residence, have since his death been continued 
 on the same evening of the week by the sur- 
 vivors and their successors, each taking his turn 
 as host. 
 
 Robert Patterson, the next president, was born 
 in the north of Ireland, May 30, 1743. He> 
 emigrated to Philadelphia in 1768, and in 1774 
 became the principal of the Wilmington Academy, 
 Delaware. He served as brigade-major in the 
 Revolutionary war, and in 1779 was appointed 
 Professor of Mathematics in the University of 
 Pennsylvania, afterwards becoming Vice-Provost 
 of that institution. In 1805, he was appointed 
 Director of the Mint. Ho was chosen President 
 of the American Philosophical Society in 1819, 
 and died July 22, 1824. He is the author of 
 several papers in the Society's Transactions. 
 
 William Tilghman, elected a member of the 
 Society in 1805, was the next president. 
 
 He was born, August 12, 1756, in Talbot 
 county, Maryland, lie was admitted to the bar 
 in Maryland in 1783, but in 1793 removed to 
 Philadelphia, where he practised his profession 
 until his appointment, by President Adams, as 
 Chief Judge of the Circuit Court of the United 
 States. The law establishing this office being 
 repealed in about a year, Mr. Tilghman returned 
 to practice. In July, 1805, he was appointed 
 President of the Courts of Common Pleas in the 
 first district, and, in February, 1800, Chief Justice 
 of the Supreme Court of the state. He died 
 April 30, 1827. He prepared, in 1809, by di- 
 rection of the Legislature, a report of the Eng- 
 lish statutes in force within the state, and pub- 
 lished in 1818 an eulogium on Dr. Wistar. He 
 was succeeded by Peter S. Du Ponceau. 
 
 
578 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 This distinguished philologist was born in Rhe, 
 an inland on the western coast of France, where 
 his father held a military command, June 3, 1760. 
 He displayed at an early age a great aptitude for 
 the study of languages, and acquired a knowledge 
 of English and Italian from intercourse with the 
 officers of an Irish and Italian regiment stationed 
 in his vicinity. He was educated for the post of 
 a military engineer, but was prevented from enter- 
 ing the army on account of being short-sighted. 
 He was in consequence sent, in 1773, to a Bene- 
 dictine College at St. Jean d'Angely. After he 
 had remained there eighteen months his father 
 died, and at the solicitation of his mother and 
 family he consented to heroine a priest. He was 
 made an instructor by the Bishop of Rochelle in 
 the college at Bressuire in Poitou, but soon 
 becoming tired of the place, be abandoned it in 
 1775, went to Paris, and for some time earned a 
 frugal subsistence by translating English works 
 by the sheet, English letters for business men, 
 and giving lessons, ne next formed the acquain- 
 tance of Count de Gebelin, author of the Monde 
 Primitif, who made him his private secretary. 
 "While filling this office, he met at the house of 
 Beaumarchais with Baron Steuben, who per- 
 suaded him to accompany him as his secretary 
 and aide-de-camp to America. They sailed from 
 Marseilles, and arrived at Portsmouth, New 
 Hampshire, December 1, 1777. At the request 
 of the Baron, Du Ponceau was appointed captain 
 by brevet in the American army, February 18, 
 1778. He accompanied Steuben in his move- 
 ments until the winter of 1780, when he was 
 attacked at Philadelphia with cough and spitting 
 of blood, and so reduced in strength that he was 
 obliged to desist from further military service, and 
 retired from the army. He became a citizen of 
 Pennsylvania, and in October, 1781, was appoint- 
 ed secretary to Robert R. Livingston, then in 
 charge of the department of Foreign Affairs. 
 After filling this office for a period of twenty 
 months he commenced the study of the law, and 
 was admitted an attorney in Juno, 17S5. He 
 had previously been appointed a notary public. 
 In 1778 ho married, and in 17D1 was appointed 
 a sworn interpreter of foreign languages. The 
 succeeding years were closely devoted to his pro- 
 fession, in which he rose to such eminence as to 
 decline, in consequence of his prospects of practice, 
 an appointment by Jefferson as Chief Justice of 
 Louisiana. During his legal career he translated 
 several valuable works on that science, and pre- 
 pared some original essays on the same subject. 
 Having gained a " comfortable competence" by 
 his profession, he was enabled to devote himself 
 to the less remunerative, but to him most agree- 
 able labors of a philologist. He was much 
 encouraged in this pursuit by the formation in 
 March, 1815, by the American Philosophical 
 Society, of which he had become a member in 
 1701, of the "committee of history, moral science, 
 and general literature." He prepared and pre- 
 sented in behalf of this committee a report in 
 1819 on the Structure of the Indian Lan- 
 guages, which was printed in the Transactions, 
 and gave him a distinguished position in his 
 favorite department of learning, procuring him 
 among other honors the degree of LL.D., and an 
 election on the 20th of April, 1827, as member 
 
 of the Academy of Inscriptions of the French 
 Institute. In May, 1835, the Linguistique prize, 
 founded by Volnej', was awarded him by the 
 same body for his memoir on the Indian Lan- 
 guages of North America, afterwards published 
 in Paris. Bis next and last work was a Dis- 
 sertation on the Chinese Language, published in 
 1838, in which he maintained that the written 
 language of that people was hxigraphic, that is 
 composed of characters representing sounds, in 
 opposition to the general opinion that it is 
 ideographic, or composed of characters repre- 
 senting ideas. 
 
 Mr. Du Poncean was the author of a number 
 of memoirs contributed to the various learned 
 societies of which he was a member, and in many 
 instances president; of addresses delivered on 
 various public occasions, and of several essays. 
 He was a constant reader and writer throughout 
 his life in spite of the defect in his vision, which 
 in his latter years was accompanied by cataract. 
 He is said to have been remarkable for great 
 absence of mind. He died on the first day of 
 April, 1844, at the advanced age of eighty-four 
 years. 
 
 Dr. Nathaniel Chapman, elected President of 
 the Society in 1846, was a native of Virginia, 
 and for many years Professor of the Theory and 
 Practice of Medicine in the University of Penn- 
 sylvania. He occupied a distinguished position 
 as a practitioner of medicine, and contributed 
 largely to the medical literature of the country. 
 He died at Philadelphia, July 1, 1853, at the age 
 of seventy-four. 
 
 Dr. R. M. Patterson was elected President in 
 1849. He was born in Philadelphia, and was the 
 son of Robert Patterson, a former President. 
 
 On completing his education as a chemist under 
 Sir Humphrey Davy, he returned in 1812 to his 
 native country, and soon after was elected Pro- 
 fessor of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and 
 Mathematics, in the University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 In 1828 he accepted a Professorship in the 
 University of Virginia, where he remained until 
 1835, when he was appointed Director of the 
 United States Mint at Philadelphia, which office 
 he held until 1853, when his declining health in- 
 duced him to resign. 
 
 Dr. Patterson was elected a member of the 
 Society in 1809, in his twenty-second year, at 
 an earlier age than any person previously ad- 
 mitted. He was a most active participant in the 
 labors of the Society, and contributed largely 
 both by oral and written communications to the 
 interest of its proceedings. He delivered, May 
 25, 1843, while Vice-President, A Discourse on 
 the Early History of the American Philosophic 
 Society, pronounced by appointment of the So- 
 ciety at the celebration of its Hundredth Anniver- 
 sary, to which we have to acknowledge our obli- 
 gations. It closes with the reorganization of the 
 association, March 5, 1779. He died in Philadel- 
 phia, September 5, 1854, aged 68 years. 
 
 On the resignation of Dr. Patterson, the office 
 of President was conferred in 1853 upon Dr. 
 Franklin Bache, a great-grandson of the illustrious 
 founder of the Society. Dr. Bache has been for 
 many years Professor of Chemistry in the Jeffer- 
 son Medical College of Philadelphia, and has 
 greatly aided in elevating that school to its pre- 
 
AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 :o 
 
 sent eminent position. As joint author with Dr. 
 Wood of the " United States' Dispensatory," he 
 has rendered valuable service to the promotion 
 of medical science. 
 
 By the revised laws of the Society, his term 
 of office having expired with the j'ear 185-t, the 
 dignity of President of the Society was conferred 
 at the election in January, 1855, upon his cousin, 
 Professor Alexander Dallas Bache. 
 
 Professor A. D. Bache is a native of Philadel- 
 phia, and after having filled with great success 
 the positions of Professor of "Natural Philosophy 
 and Chemistry in the University of Pennsylvania, 
 Principal of the High School of Philadelphia, and 
 President of Grirard College, was appointed to 
 succeed Mr. Hassler as Superintendent of the 
 Coast Survey of the United States, and has since 
 resided in "Washington. 
 
 Under the rare combination of high scientific 
 talent with great administrative faculties, which 
 were also possessed by his great-grandfather 
 Franklin, Professor Bache has been enabled to ex- 
 ercise a personal supervision, as well over the 
 details as over the grander generalizations attained 
 in the progress of the gigantic survey under his 
 control. And it is especially by this happy com- 
 bination of power, that the most extensive survey 
 hitherto undertaken by any nation has now been 
 brought to the high state of perfection which 
 renders it one of the proudest triumphs of Ameri- 
 can science. 
 
 Am.ing the works of Professor Bache, of special 
 interest, must be mentioned the admirable report 
 on the subject of Education in Europe, founded 
 upon personal investigations made by him under 
 the authority of the Grirard College, with a view 
 to tlie organization of that institution. 
 
 Anving the chief contributors to the early 
 volumes of the Transactions we meet the name 
 of Henry Ernst Muhlenberg. He was born in 
 New Providence, Montgomery County, Penn- 
 sylvania, November 17, 1753, and in April, 1763, 
 sent with his two elder brothers to Halle, to com- 
 plete his general education, and study theology. 
 He returned in 1770, was ordained at the early 
 ago of seventeen, and became assistant to his 
 father in the Lutheran Church at Philadelphia. 
 During the occupation of the city by the British 
 he retired to the country, where he employed his 
 leisure in the study of botany. In 1780, he 
 accepted a call to Lancaster, where the remainder 
 of his life was passed in the discharge of his 
 pastoral duties. He died of apoplexy, May 23, 
 
 Dr. Muhlenberg was a thorough classical and 
 oriental scholar. He also paid great attention to 
 the natural sciences, and especially to botany. 
 He commenced this study during a retirement to 
 the country and suspension of his clerical duties 
 in 1777, during the occupation of Philadelphia by 
 the British, and attained to eminence in his 
 favorite pursuit. He was elected a member of 
 the American Philosophical Society in 1786, and 
 contributed several papers to the Transactions. 
 He soon after became a member of the leading 
 associations of a similar character in Germany 
 and the North of Europe, and his letters are fre- 
 quently referred to in Wildenow's edition of the 
 Species Plantarum. His chief publications are 
 Catalogus Plantarum and Bescriptio uberior gra- 
 
 minum. nis Flora Lancastriemis, and a num- 
 ber of papers on botany, theology, and ethics, 
 remain in manuscript. His herbarium was pur- 
 chased and presented to the American Philoso- 
 phical Society.* 
 
 Benjamin Smith Barton also wrote for the same 
 work. This eminent botanist was the son of the 
 Rev. Mr. Barton of Lancaster, Pa., where he was 
 born February 10, 1766. His mother was a sister 
 of Rittenhouse. In 1786 he visited Europe to 
 complete his education, and after passing some 
 time at Edinburgh and London went to Gbttin- 
 gen, where he. received his medical diploma. He 
 returned to Philadelphia, and commenced practice 
 in 1789, and in 1790 was appointed Professor of 
 Natural History and Botany in the University. 
 He afterwards succeeded Dr. Griffiths as Pro- 
 fessor of Materia Medica, and Dr. Rush as Pro- 
 fessor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine. 
 In 1803 he published the first American elemen- 
 tary work on botany, and his college lectures on 
 the same subject did much to diffuse a taste for 
 the science. He commenced in 1804, and con- 
 tinued for several years, a Medical Physical Jour- 
 nal. He also wrote New Views of the Indian 
 Triles, a work on the American Materia Medica, 
 arid a paper on the Pyrola Umbellata, in the 
 Medico-Chirurgical Transactions of London. He 
 died, December 19,1815. 
 
 Dr. Adam Seybert, the chemist, mineralogist, 
 and author of Statistical Annals of the United 
 States from 1789 to 1815, 4to., who died at 
 Paris, May 2, 1825, and Andrew Ellicott, Pro- 
 fessor of Mathematics at West Point, who plan- 
 ned the city of Washington, and was also 
 employed in running the boundary between the 
 United States and the Spanish colonies, appear 
 as contributors with Palisot de Beauvais and 
 James Woodhouse. Ellicott died, August 28, 1820, 
 in his 67th year. He published a Journal, with a 
 map of Ohio, Mississippi, and part of Florida. 
 Phila. 1803, 1814. 
 
 Ambroise Marie Francois Joseph Palisot de 
 Beauvais was born at Arras, in 1752. He was 
 educated at the college of Hareourt, in Paris, and 
 became Receiver-General of Territorial Imposts. 
 On the abolition of that office in 1777, he devoted 
 his attention exclusively to natural history, and in 
 1781 became a corresponding member of the Paris 
 Academy of Sciences. In pursuit of his favorite 
 studies he sailed to the coast of Guinea, with the 
 intention of making a journey across Africa to 
 Egj'pt, which he was unable to undertake. After 
 passing some time at Owara and Benin, he 
 sailed for St. Domingo, and arrived at Cap Fran- 
 cais in June, 1788. He remained on the island 
 in various positions connected with the govern- 
 ment, until the overthrow of the French rule by 
 the negroes. Having opposed the dominant 
 party he was obliged to fly, and escaping with 
 difficulty, landed at Philadelphia with the in- 
 tention of proceeding to France, but learning that 
 he had been proscribed as an emigrant, remained 
 in this country, where he supported himself as 
 a teacher of languages and musician, until the 
 arrival of the French minister, Adet, who, him- 
 self a man of science, enabled the botanist to 
 
 * Encyc. Amer. Darlington's Bartram. Allen's Am. Biog. 
 Diet 
 
580 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 resume his studies in the new and inviting field 
 before him. He made several scientific tours 
 among and beyond the Alleghanies, and was 
 employed to arrange the collection in Peale's 
 Museum. On the receipt of permission he re- 
 turned to his native country, taking the extensive 
 collections he had formed with him. He became 
 a member of the Institute in 1806, and died, 
 January 21, 1820. He published Flore d' Oware 
 et de Benin, Paris. 1804-21, 2 vols, fob; In- 
 seetes recueillis en Afrxque et en Amerxqxie, 1805- 
 21, fob ; Fssai d'urxe nourelle Agrostographie 
 <m Nouxeaux Genres des Graminces, 1812, 4to. 
 and 8vo., all of which are illustrated. 
 
 James "Woodhouse was born in Philadelphia, 
 Nov. 17, 1770. He became Professor of Chemis- 
 try in the college of Philadelphia in 1795, and 
 published several works on that department of 
 science. lie died, June 4, 1809. 
 
 Several of the other authors of the Transactions 
 will appear at a later date as the founders of the 
 Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. 
 The chief contributor to the recent volumes issued 
 by the Society, is Mr. Isaac C. Lea. Mr. Lea, a 
 native of Pennsylvania, has been long known as 
 a member of one of the most extensive publishing 
 houses of Philadelphia ; and after a most success- 
 ful career in business, has retired in favor of his 
 son, to devote the remainder of his lii'eto a study, 
 the pursuit of which occupied the leisure of his 
 earlier years. 
 
 His papers in the Transactions are very ex- 
 tensive, and finely illustrated ; they are devoted 
 to the description of the fresh water and land 
 shells chiefly of the United States, to the history 
 of which he has contributed more than any other 
 person. His synopsis of Vnionida; first printed 
 by the Society, but of which a revised edition 
 was published by the author in 1852, is at present 
 the standard work for the classification of these 
 objects, and has elicited many warm commenda- 
 tions from foreign and native conehologists. Other 
 works by Mr. Lea are, Contributions to Geology, 
 Philadelphia, 1833, and various papers in the 
 Journal and Proceedings of the Academy of 
 Natural Sciences 
 
 RUTGERS COLLEGE. 
 Tire clergy who accompanied the early Dutch 
 emigrants brought with them the same love of 
 learning which the Puritan divines had derived 
 from the Church of England. Connected with an 
 established church, within whose pale they were 
 contented, they had no occasion to form a new 
 organization to perpetuate their existence; and the 
 recruits to their numbers were drawn, like those 
 of the Episcopal clergy, from the mother coun- 
 try. 
 
 Like the Episcopalians, they soon experienced 
 the inconvenience of waiting the arrival of acces- 
 sions from Europe, or sending candidates for or- 
 dination across the ocean. A party soon arose 
 who were desirous that the power of ordination 
 should be conferred by the church in Holland on 
 its offspring of America. This party was known 
 as the "Coetus;" their opponents, who wished 
 the old order of arrangements to continue, were 
 known as the " Conference." The latter were 
 for some time in the ascendant, but the incon- 
 
 venience, delay, and expense of the voyage to and 
 from Europe, finally weighed so heavily on con- 
 gregations as well as clergy, that the Coetus party 
 resolved to establish a school of theology at New 
 Brunswick, New Jersey. A charter was obtained 
 incorporating the institution as Queen's College in 
 1770. Its Board of Trustees met near the court- 
 house of Bergen county, and elected the Kev. Dr. 
 Jacobus E. Hardenbergh the President. 
 
 While this matter wasjn progress a young stu- 
 dent of divinity, John H. Livingston, was pursuing 
 his studies preparatory to ordination in Holland, 
 and obtained from the Dutch church their consent 
 to a separate organization of the American congre- 
 gations on condition that the} 7 should establish a 
 Theological Professorate," as the Church of Hol- 
 land could not and would not acknowledge and 
 maintain any connexion with a church which did 
 not provide herself with an educated ministry."* 
 Livingston was in due course ordained, and on his 
 return became minister of the Dutch church in 
 New York. This church, which had never been 
 identified with either of the contending parties, 
 at his suggestion sent forth in 1771 a circular 
 proposing a general convention to reconcile the 
 points at issue. The assembly met, the desired 
 union was effected, and Livingston unanimously 
 appointed Professor ot Divinity. 
 
 Dr. Hardenbergh remained president of the new 
 institution, which flourished under his care, until 
 his death in 1792. The college then suspended 
 its instructions until 1807, when a proposition 
 was made and adopted that the Theological Pro- 
 fessorate should be united with the college, whose 
 charter provided for a professorship of divinity' 
 and that the professor should be appointed presi- 
 dent. The union was effected, twenty thousand 
 dollars raised to endow the professorship created, 
 and in 1810 Dr. Livingston removed to New 
 Brunswick and entered upon his new duties. The 
 college was embarrassed in its finances, which 
 were barely sufficient to sustain "half a Pro- 
 fessorship of Mathematics and Natural Philoso- 
 phy." It received no aid from the state, and was 
 frequently compelled during the presidency of 
 Livingston, as in that of his predecessor, to close 
 its doors. Until the commencement of a college 
 building in 1809, its instructions had been given 
 in temporary localities, and as but one wing of 
 the contemplated edifice was completed its accom- 
 modations were limited. Dr. Livingston, the 
 new president, was a member of the eminent New 
 York family of that name, and was born in Pough- 
 keepsie in 1746, and a graduate of Yale in 1762. 
 His subsequent history has ahead}' been given. 
 He struggled manfully and hopefully with the 
 difficulties of his position, maintaining his office 
 as president with honor up to the time of his 
 death in January, 1825. Dr. Philip Milledoler 
 was his successor in the presidency and chair of 
 theology. 
 
 Philip Milledoler was born in the year 1775. 
 His parents were natives of Berne, Switzerland, 
 who emigrated to this country in early life and set- 
 tled in New York. Their son was graduated at 
 Columbia College, 1792. He studied theology, 
 and at the early age of nineteen was called to 
 the church in Nassau between Fulton and John 
 
 * The Rev. Abraham Polhemus's Alumni Address, 1S52, p. 6. 
 
JOHN M. MASON. 
 
 581 
 
 streets. In 1800 lie reTioved to Philadelphia, 
 and in 1805 returned to New York and became 
 pastor of a newly es abl shed church in Rutgers 
 street, where he remained until 1825. On the 
 death of Dr. Livingston he was called to the chair 
 of didactic theology, and subse ptcntly to the Pre- 
 sidency of Rutgers College. 
 
 In 1835 he resigned his post in consequence of 
 his advancing years, and the remainder of his life 
 was passed in retirement. He died on the 22d 
 of September, 1852, and on the following day his 
 wire die I also. Undivided in death as in life, they 
 were buried together. 
 
 He was desirous of reviving the exercises of the 
 college which had been for some time suspended. 
 From the want of endowment it was of course 
 difficult to do so. The difficulty was overcome 
 in an ingenious and practical manner. A second 
 professorship in the theological school, which, al- 
 though connected with the college, was under the 
 control of the General Synod of the Dutch Re- 
 formed church, had just been endowed. Dr. 
 Milledoler proposed that a similar amount should 
 be raised for a third professorship, and that the 
 three incumbents should give their services gra- 
 tuitously to the college. His recently appointed 
 colleague, Dr. John De Witt, warmly seconded the 
 scheme, a subscription was started and the requi- 
 site means obtained, ten thousand dollars being 
 liberally contributed by the clergy of the denomi- 
 nation, many of them the recipients of but small 
 salaries. The Rev. Dr. Selah S. Woodhull was 
 elected to the Professorship of Ecclesiastical His- 
 tory and Church Government; but dying only 
 thres months after his appointment, the Rev. Dr. 
 Cannon became his successor. The faculty of let- 
 ters was then organized. The Professorship of 
 Moral Philosophy and the Evidences of Chris- 
 tianity was taken by the President, that of Belles 
 Lettres and Rhetoric by Dr. De Witt, and that of 
 Metaphysics and Philosophy of the Human Mind 
 by Dr. Cannon. To these were added Robert 
 Adrain, LL.D., in the department of Mathematics, 
 and the Rev. Dr. AV. C. Brownlee in the Latin 
 and Greek languages. 
 
 The name of the college was, about the time of 
 this reorganization, changed from Queen's to Rut- 
 gers. Dr. Adrain was succeeded in 1826 by 
 The idore Strong, LL.D., who still retains the 
 chair. In 1827, Dr. Brownlee accepting a call to 
 the Collegiate church of New York, was suc- 
 ceeded by Joseph Nelson, LL.D., the celebrated 
 blind teacher. 
 
 " The last named Professor," says the Rev. Mr. 
 Polhemus, " was at the time of his appointment, 
 and bad been for a number of years, totally blind ; 
 but with great powers of memory and thorough 
 acquaintance with the studies of his department, 
 he conducted the exercises of his room to the very 
 general improvement of his students and accept- 
 ance of the Board. I remember him well ; how 
 he would sit, with his thumb upon the dial of his 
 watch, marking the minutes as they passed, allow- 
 ing to each student his allotted portion, and the 
 facility with which he would instantly detect the 
 least mistake in the reading of the "text or the 
 translation. And I remember, too, that nice ear 
 by which, with his class sitting in alphabetical 
 order, lie would detect the location of the slightest 
 whisper; and when rebuking an individual by 
 
 name for the annoyance, it was rare indeed that 
 the person charged had an opportunity of entering 
 a protest against the justice of his suspicions."* 
 
 On Dr. Nelson's death in 1830, Dr. McClelland 
 succeeded to the professorship; and in 1831, on 
 his appointment to that of Dr. De Witt, was 
 succeeded by John D. Ogilby, who was followed 
 by the present professor, the Rev. Dr. Proudiit. 
 On the resignation of Dr. Milledoler in 18-10, the 
 Hon. A. Brnyn Ilasbrouck, LL.D., was made pre- 
 sident. Dr. Ilasbrouck resigning in 1850, was 
 succeeded by the present head of the college, the 
 Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen, LL.D. 
 
 Theodore Frelinghuysen was born at Millstone, 
 Somerset County, New Jersey, March 28, 1787. 
 He is the son of Frederick Frelinghuysen, a mem- 
 ber of the Continental Congress, who, in 1777, re~ 
 I signed his seat to join the- army, and served as 
 captain of a volunteer corps of artillery at Mon- 
 mouth and Trenton, and during the remainder of 
 the war as a captain of militia. In 1793 he was 
 chosen a Senator of the United States. 
 
 The son completed his classical education at 
 Princeton in 1804, and then studied law in the 
 office cjjtm elder brother until he became of age, 
 when he was admitted to practice. He followed 
 the profession with great success, and in 1S17 
 was appointed attorney-general of the state. He 
 held the office until his election as United States 
 Senator in 1820. He remained in the senato 
 until 1835. In 1S3S he was chosen Chancellor 
 of the University of the City of New York. In 
 May, 1844, he was nominated by the Baltimore 
 Convention as the Whig candidate for the Vice- 
 Presidency. The cry of Clay and Frelinghuysen 
 will be long remembered in the history of the 
 country as that of a great party in one of tho 
 greatest struggles which has ever preceded a pre- 
 sidential election. In 1850 Mr. Frelinghuysen 
 re-igned the chancellorship of the University in 
 favor of the presidency of Rutgers College. 
 
 Mr. Frelinghuysen is also at the head of the 
 Board of Missions and the Bible Society, esta- 
 blished by several of the leading denominations 
 of the United States, and has throughout his lifo 
 been as active and prominent in religious and phi- 
 lanthropic as in political and academic effort. 
 
 The college has recently received an addition to 
 its endowment of $28,000 from various donations. 
 §25,000 have also been contributed to the samo 
 ol iject by the Collegiate church of the city of New 
 York. 
 
 JOHN M. MASON. 
 
 In the church history of xVmcrica there are few 
 persons who have excited more interest in their 
 day than John M. Mason. He was born in tho 
 
 l/7 <^ i/£- c^P^h^^^, 
 
 city of New York March 19, 1770, was a graduato 
 of Columbia College, and instructed in theology 
 
 * Address before the Aluumi Association of Rutgers College, 
 July 27, 1S62. 
 
582 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 by his father, a minister of the Scottish church. 
 He continued his education at Edinburgh, and in 
 1792 succeeded his father as preacher in his church 
 in New York. During his ministerial career in 
 the city, he was associated from 1811 to 1816 
 with the government of Columbia College with 
 the title of Provost. The college statutes adopted 
 in 1811, and subsequently during his administra- 
 tion, and the report in 1810 on the state of the 
 college, attributed to his pen, which is a vigorous 
 presentment of college duties and discipline, show 
 his high qualifications for the labors of this office. 
 He visited Europe for his health in 1816. He 
 suffered after his return from paralytic attacks, 
 by which his constitution was much enfeebled. 
 He .was President of Dickinson College for three 
 years from 1821 ; returned to New York, and died 
 December 27, 1829, at the age of fifty -nine. His 
 reputation for a certain full, robust eloquence was 
 great. He was powerful as a preacher, a contro- 
 versialist, and in his practical talent. He had a 
 controversy with Bishop Hobart in the " Chris- 
 tian Magazine," which he edited. His advocacy 
 of open communion gained him distinction in the 
 religious world. His orations of the most general 
 interest were on the death of Washington and of 
 Hamilton. His -writings, consisting chiefly of ser- 
 mons, were collected in four octavo volumes by 
 his son.* 
 
 Mason meditated a life of Hamilton, of whose 
 principles and character he was a great admirer. 
 Yerplanck has paid a handsome tribute to his 
 powers in a college oration delivered shortly after 
 his death. He speaks of his scholarship, of his 
 "rare union of intimate acquaintance with books 
 and deep learning in the spirits and ways of men," 
 of his eloquence, " powerful, impressive, peculiar, 
 original," as'it was exhibited in his unwritten dis- 
 courses from the pulpit, where " he was wont to 
 pour forth the overwhelming opulence of his mind 
 in irregular but magnificent profusion, laying alike 
 under contribution to his object, theological learn- 
 ing, classic lore, and the literature of the day; 
 illustrating the conclusions of the logician by acute 
 observations upon life and manners ; alternately 
 convincing the reason, and searching and probing 
 the deep recesses of the conscience ; now drawing 
 moral lessons from the history of the long-buried 
 past, and now commenting upon the events or the 
 vices of the day, or perhaps the follies of the 
 hour ; now lifting aloft the blazing torch of Chris- 
 tian philosophy to guide the honest seeker after 
 truth, and now showering his withering scorn 
 upon the scoffer's head ; explaining, defending, 
 deducing, enforcing his doctrines or precepts, 
 sometimes with colloquial familiarity, and then 
 again in a bold and swelling eloquence, which 
 stirred and warmed the heart like the sound of a 
 trumpet.''t 
 
 FROM THE TOTfEP.AT, OBATTON ON WASHINGTON. 
 
 The name of Washington, connected with all that 
 is rnosfT brilliant in the history of our country and in 
 human character, awakens sensations which agitate 
 
 * The Writings of the late John M. Mason, D.D., consisting 
 of Sermons, Essays, and Miscellanies, including Essays already 
 published in the Christian Magazine. In 4 vols., selected and 
 arranged by the Rev. Ebenezer Mason. New York. Pub- 
 lished by the Editor. 1832. 
 
 t Address before the Philolexian and Peithologian Societies, 
 1830, by Gulian C. Yerplanck. 
 
 the fervors of youth, and warm the chill bosom of 
 age. Transported to the times when America rose 
 to repel her wrongs and to claim her destinies, a 
 scene of boundless grandeur bursts upon our view. 
 Long had her filial duty expostulated with parental 
 injustice. Long did she deprecate the rupture of 
 those ties which she had been proud of preserving 
 and displaying. But her humble entreaty spurned, 
 aggression fullowed by the rod, and the rod by scor- 
 pions, having changed remonstrance into murmur, 
 and murmur into resistance, she transfers her grie- 
 vances from the throne of earth to the throne of 
 heaven, and precedes by an appeal to the God of 
 battles her appeal to the sword of war. At issue 
 now with the mistress of the seas — unfurnished with 
 equal means of defence — the convulsive shock ap- 
 proaching — and every evil omen passing before her 
 — one step of rashness or of folly may seal her doom. 
 In this accumulation of trouble, who shall command 
 her confidence, and face her dangers, and conduct 
 her cause? God, whose kingdom ruleth over all, 
 prepares from afar the instruments best adapted to 
 his purpose. By an influence which it would be as 
 irrational to dispute as it is vain to scrutinize, he 
 stirs up the spirit of the statesman and the soldier. 
 Minds, on which he has bestowed the elements of 
 greatness, are brought by his providence into contact 
 with exigencies which rouse them into action. It is 
 in the season of effort and of peril that impotence 
 disappears and energy arises. The whirlwind which 
 sweeps away the glowworm, uncovers the fire of 
 genius, and kindles it into a blaze that irradiates at 
 once both the zenith and the poles. But among the 
 heroes who sprung from obscurity when the college, 
 the counting-house, and the plough, teemed with 
 " thunderbolts of war," none could, in all respects, 
 meet the wants and the wishes of America. She re- 
 quired, in her leader, a. man reared under her own 
 eye ; who combined with distinguished talent a cha- 
 racter above suspicion ; who had added to his phy- 
 sical and moral qualities the experience of difficult 
 service; a man who should concentrate in himself 
 the public affections and confidences ; who should 
 know how to multiply the energies of every other 
 man under his direction, and to make disaster itself 
 the means of success — his arm a fortress, and his 
 name a host. Such a man it were almost presump- 
 tion to expect ; but such a man all-ruling Heaven 
 had provided, and that man was Washington. 
 
 Pre-eminent already in worth, he is summoned by 
 his country to the pre-eminence of toil and of danger. 
 Unallured by the charms of opulence — unappalled 
 by the hazard of a dubious warfare — unmoved by 
 the prospect of being, in the event of failure, the first 
 and most conspicuous victim, he obeys her mandate 
 because he loves his duty. The resolve is firm, for 
 the probation is terrible. His theatre is a world; 
 his charge, a family of nations; the interest staked 
 in his hands, the prosperity of millions unborn in 
 ages to come. His means, under aid from on high, 
 the resources of his own breast, with the raw recruits 
 and irregular supplies of distracted colonies. 
 crisis worthy of such a hero ! Followed by her little 
 bands, her prayers, and her tears, Washington es- 
 pouses the quarrel of his country. As he moves on 
 to the conflict, every heart palpitates and every knee 
 trembles. The foe, alike valiant and veteran, pre- 
 sents no easy conquest, nor aught inviting but to 
 those who had consecrated their blood to the public 
 weal. The Omnipotent, who allots great enjoyment 
 as the meed of great exertion, had ordained that 
 America should be free, but that she should learn to 
 value the blessing by the price of its acquisition. 
 She shall go to a " wealthy place," but her way is 
 " through fire and through water." Many a gene- 
 
JOHN M. MASON. 
 
 583 
 
 rous chief must bleed, and many a gallant youth 
 einlc, at his side, into the surprised grave ; the field 
 must be heaped with slain, the purple torrent must 
 roll, ere tlie angel of peace descend with his olive. 
 It is here, amid devastation, and horror, and death, 
 that Washington must reap his laurels, and engrave 
 his trophies on the shields of immortality. Shall 
 Delaware and Princeton? Shall Monmouth and 
 York ? — But I may not particularize ; far less repeat 
 the tale which babes recite, which poets sing, and 
 Fame has published to a listening world. Every 
 scene of his action was a scene of his triumph. Now 
 he saved the republic by more than Fabian caution ; 
 now he avenged her by more than Carthaginian 
 fierceness; while at every stroke her forests and her 
 hills re-echoed to her shout, " The sword of the Lord 
 and of Washington!" Nor was this the vain ap- 
 plause of partiality and enthusiasm. The blasted 
 schemes of Britain, her broken and her captive hosts, 
 proclaimed the terror of his arms. Skilled were her 
 chiefs, and brave her legions ; but bravery and skill 
 rendered them a conquest more worthy of Washing- 
 ton. True, he suffered in his turn repulse, and even de- 
 feat. It was both natural and needful. Unchequered 
 with reverse, his story would have resembled rather 
 the fictions of romance than the truth of narrative; 
 and had he been neither defeated nor repulsed, we 
 had never seen all the grandeur of his soul. He ar- 
 rayed himself in fresh honors by that which ruins 
 even the great — vicissitude. He could not only 
 subdue an enemy, but, what is infinitely more, he 
 could subdue misfortune. With an equanimity which 
 gave temperance to victory, and cheerfulness to dis- 
 aster, he balanced the fortunes of the state. In the 
 face of hostile prowess; in the midst of mutiny and 
 treason ; surrounded with astonishment, irresolution, 
 and despondence; Washington remained erect, un- 
 moved, invincible. Whatever ills America might 
 endure in maintaining her rights, she exulted that 
 she had nothing to fear from her commander-in- 
 chief. The event justified her most sanguine pre- 
 sages. That invisible hand which girded him at 
 first, continued to guard and to guide him through 
 the successive stages of the revolution. Nor did he 
 account it a weakness to bend the knee in homage 
 to its supremacy, and prayer for its direction. This 
 was the armor of Washington ; this the salvation of 
 bis country. 
 ******** * 
 
 It must ever be difficult to compare the merits of 
 Washington's character, because he always ap- 
 peared greatest in that which he last sustained. 
 Yet if there is a preference, it must be assigned to 
 the Lieutenant-General of the armies of America. 
 Not because the duties of that station were more ar- 
 duous than those which he had often performed, but 
 because it more full}' displayed his magnanimity. 
 While others become great by elevation, Washington 
 becomes greater by condescension. Matchless pa- 
 triot! to stoop, on public motives, to an inferior 
 appointment* after possessing and dignifying the 
 highestorfices ! Thrice favored country, which boasts 
 of such a citizen ! We gaze with astonishment ; we 
 exult that we are Americans. We augur every 
 thing great, and good, and happy. But whence this 
 sudden horror ? What means that cry of agony ? 
 Oh ! 'tis the shriek of America ! The fairy vision is 
 fled : Washington is — no more ! 
 
 How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war 
 perished ! 
 
 Daughters of America, who erst prepared the 
 festal bower and the laurel wreath, plant now the 
 cypress grove, and water it with tears. 
 
 Horn are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war 
 perished! 
 
 The death of Washington, Americans, has revealed 
 the extent of our loss. It has given us the final proof 
 that we never mistook him. Take his affecting tes- 
 tament, and read the secrets of his soul. Read all 
 the power of domestic virtue. Read his strong love 
 of letters and of liberty. Read his fidelity to repub- 
 lican principle, and his jealousy of national character. 
 Read his devotedness to you in his military bequests 
 to near relations. "These swords," they are the 
 words of Washington, " these swords are accom- 
 panied with an injunction not to unsheathe them for 
 the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for self- 
 defence, or in defence of their country and its rights ; 
 and in the latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and 
 prefer falling with them in their hands to the relin- 
 quishment thereof." 
 
 In his acts, Americans, you have seen the man. 
 In the complicated excellence of character he stands 
 alone. Let no future Plutarch attempt the iniquity 
 of parallel. Let no soldier of fortune ; let no usurp- 
 ing conqueror ; let not Alexander or Csesar ; let not 
 Cromwell or Bonaparte ; let none among the dead 
 or the living ; appear in the same picture with 
 Washington ; or let them appear as the shade to his 
 light. 
 
 On this subject, my countrymen, it is for others to 
 speculate, but it is for us to feel. Yet-in propor- 
 tion to the severity of the stroke ought to be our 
 thankfulness that it was not inflicted sooner. Through 
 a long series of years has God preserved our Wash- 
 ington a public blessing ; and now that he has re- 
 moved him for ever, shall we presume to say, Wliat 
 doest thou? Never did the tomb preach more pow- 
 erfully the dependence of all things on the will of 
 the Most High. The greatest of mortals crumble 
 into dust the moment he commands, Return, ye chil- 
 dren of men. Washington was but the instrument 
 of a benignant God. He sickens, he dies, that we 
 may learn not to trust in men, nor to make flesh our 
 arm. But though Washington is dead, Jehovah 
 lives. God of our fathers! be our God, and the God 
 of our children ! Thou art our refuge and our hope ; 
 the pillar of our strength ; the wall of our defence, 
 and our unfading glory ! 
 
 Americans ! This God, who raised up Washington 
 and gave you liberty, exacts from you the duty of 
 cherishing it with a zeal according to knowledge. 
 Never sully, by apathy or by outrage, your fair in- 
 heritance. Risk not, for one moment, on visionary 
 theories, the solid blessings of your lot. To you, 
 particularly, O youth of America ! applies the so- 
 lemn charge. In all the perils of your country 
 remember Washington. The freedom of reason and 
 of right has been handed down to you on the point 
 of the hero's sword. Guard with veneration the 
 sacred deposit. The curse of ages will rest upon 
 you, youth of America ! if ever you surrender to 
 foreign ambition, or domestic lawlessness, the pre- 
 cious liberties for which Washington fought, and 
 your fathers bled. 
 
 I cannot part with you, fellow-citizens, without 
 urging the long remembrance of our present assem- 
 bly. This day we wipe away the reproach of repub- 
 lics, that they know not how to be grateful. In 
 your treatment of living patriots, recall your love 
 and your regret of Washington. Let not future in- 
 consistency charge this day with hypocrisy. Happy 
 America, if she gives an instance of universal prin- 
 ciple in her sorrows for the man, " first in war, first 
 in peace, and first in the affections of his country !" 
 
 JOSEPH HOPKINSON, 
 The author of Hail Columbia, was born at Phila- 
 delphia, November 12, 1770. He was the son 
 
584 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMEEICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of Francis Hopkinson, of whom we have before 
 spoken. He was educated at the University of 
 Pennsylvania, and studied law with Judge Wilson 
 and William Pwawle. He commenced the practice 
 of his profession at Enston; but soon returned to 
 Philadelphia, where he acquired high distinction 
 as a lawyer. He was counsel for Rush in his li- 
 bel suit against Cobbett; and for Judge Chase of 
 the Supreme Court of the United States, on the 
 impeachment of that officer by the Senate. He 
 was a member of the House of Representatives 
 from 1815 to 181 9, where he opposed there-charter 
 of the United States Bank, and maintained a high 
 position as a speaker. 
 
 / 
 
 VZct^ 
 
 After a three years' residence at Bordentown, 
 New Jersey, at the conclusion of his congressional 
 career, he removed again to Philadelphia, where 
 he was appointed in 1828, by President Adams, 
 Judge of the United States District Court, an of- 
 fice held by his grandfather under the British 
 Crown, and to which his father bad been chosen 
 on the organization of the judiciary in 1789. He 
 retained this office until his death, January 15, 
 1842. 
 
 In addition to his professional duties, Judge 
 Hopkinson filled the office of Vice-President of 
 the American Philosophical Society and President 
 of the Philadelphia Academy of the Fine Arts, an 
 institution which owes its foundation to Ins exer- 
 tions. He was a warm friend of education, and 
 delivered several addresses before literary socie- 
 ties. The circumstances under which his famous 
 national song was written, are pleasantly describ- 
 ed by its author in answer to a request for such 
 information made several years after its composi- 
 tion. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE SONG OF HAIL COLUMBIA. 
 
 This Song was written in the summer of 1798, 
 when a war with France was thought to be inevita- 
 ble, Congress being then in session in Philadelphia, 
 deliberating upon that important subject, and acts 
 of hostility having actually occurred. The contest 
 between England and France was raging, and the 
 people of the United States were divided into par- 
 
 ties for the one side or the other ; some thinking that 
 policy and duty required us to take part with re- 
 publican France, as the war was called ; others were 
 for our connecting ourselves with England, under 
 the belief that she was the great preservative power 
 of good principles and safe government. The viola- 
 tion of our rights b} r both belligerents was forcing us 
 from the just and wise policy of President Washington, 
 which was to do equal justice to both, to take part 
 with neither, but to keep a strict and honest neutra- 
 lity between them. The prospect of a rupture with 
 France was exceedingly offensive to the portion of 
 the people which espoused her cause, and the vio- 
 lence of the spirit of party has never risen higher, 
 I think not so high, :is it did at that time on that 
 question. The theatre was then open in our city: 
 a young man belonging to it, whose talent was as a 
 singer, was about to take his benefit. I had known 
 him when he was at school. On this acquaintance, 
 he called on me on Saturday afternoon, his benefit 
 being announced for the following Monday. He 
 said he had twenty boxes taken, and his prospect 
 was that he should suffer a loss instead of receiving 
 a benefit from the perfonnai.ee; but that if he could 
 get a patriotic song adapted to the tune of the " Pre- 
 sident's March," then the popular air, he did not 
 doubt of a full house ; that the poets of the theatrical 
 corps had been trying to accomplish it, but were 
 satisfied that no words could be composed to suit 
 the music of that march. I told him I would try 
 for him. He came the next afternoon, and the song, 
 such as it is, was ready for him. It was announced 
 on Monday morning, and the theatre was crowded 
 to excess, and so continued, night after night, for the 
 rest of the whole season, the song being encored and 
 repeated many times each night, the audience joining 
 in the chorus. It was also sung at night in the 
 streets by large assemblies of citizens, including 
 members of Coi gross. The enthusiasm was general, 
 and the song was heard, I may say, in every part of 
 the United States. 
 
 The object of the author was to get up an Ameri- 
 can spirit, which should be independent of and 
 above the interests, passions, and policy of both bel- 
 ligerents, and look and feel exclusively for our own 
 honour and rights. Rot an allusion is made either 
 to France or England, or the quarrel between them, 
 or to what was the most in fault in their treatment 
 of us. Of course the song found favour with both 
 parties — at least neither could 'disown the senti- 
 ments it inculcated. It was truly American and 
 nothing eke, a.;d the patriotic feelings of every 
 American heart responded to it. 
 
 Such is the history of the soi g, which has endured 
 infinitely be\*ond any expectation of the author, and 
 beyond any merit it can boast of, except that of be- 
 ing truly and exclusively patriotic in its sentiments 
 and spirit. 
 
 The foregoing was written (Aug. 24, 1840), for the 
 " Wyoming Band" at Wilkesbarre, who had request- 
 ed the author to give them an account of the occa- 
 sion for which " Hail Columbia " was composed. 
 
 HAIL COLUMBIA. 
 
 Tune — " President's Jfarch." 
 Hail, Columbia! happy land ! 
 Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band! 
 
 Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, 
 
 Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause. 
 And when the storm of war was gone, 
 Enjoy'd the peace your valour won. 
 
 Let independence be our boast, 
 
 Ever mindful what it cost; 
 
 Ever grateful for the prize, 
 
 Let its altar reach the slues. 
 
WILLIAM MARTIN JOHNSON. 
 
 585 
 
 Firm — united — let us be, 
 Raiding round oar Liberty; 
 As ii band ol brothers joiu'd, 
 Peace and safety we shall find. 
 
 Immortal patriots ! rise once more : 
 Defe.id your rights, defend your shore: 
 
 Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
 
 Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
 | Invade the shrine where sacred lies 
 Of toil and blood the well-earu'd prize. 
 
 Wuile offering peace sincere and just, 
 
 In Heaven we place a manly trust, 
 
 That truth and justice will prevail, 
 
 And every scheme of bondage fail. 
 Firm — united, <fce. 
 
 Sound, sound, the trump of Fame! 
 
 Let Washington's great name 
 
 Ring through the world with loud applause, 
 Ring through the world with loud applause: 
 
 Let every clime to Freedom dear, 
 
 Listen with a joyful ear. 
 
 With equal skill, and godlike power, 
 He goveru'd in the fearful hour 
 Ol horrid war; or glides, with ease, 
 The happier times ot honest peace. 
 Firm — united, &a. 
 
 Behold the chief who now commands, 
 Once more to serve his country, stands — 
 The mek on which the storm will beat; 
 The rock on which the storm will beat. 
 But, arnfd in virtue firm and true, 
 H.s hopes aie fix'd on Heaven and you. 
 When hope was sinking in dismay, 
 And glooms obscured Columbia's day, 
 His stea ly mind, from changes free, 
 Resolved on death or liberty. 
 Firm — united, ifee. 
 
 WILLIAM MARTIN JOHXSON. 
 
 In the village of Wrentham, Mass., there lived 
 about the outbreak of the Revolutionary War a 
 sea-captain, who had retired on a moderate in- 
 come, by the name of Albee, He had no children 
 of his own, and feeling lonesome in his isolation, 
 proposed to a vagabond couple who were oc- 
 casionally beggars at his door, a-; they were at 
 the doors of many a house of many a town of 
 Massachusetts and Connecticut, to adopt a bright 
 looking hoy whom they carried about with them, 
 and called their son. The worthy couple an- 
 swered, in the intervals when they were sober 
 enough to answer anything, to the name of John- 
 eon. They accepted the captain's proposal, the 
 father with great joy, the mother with many 
 tears, visited the boy occasionally afterwards, but 
 finally disappeared. 
 
 The captain was in the main a good guardian, 
 though he was apt also to get drunk, and when 
 drunk apply the rope's end with more vigor than 
 discretion about the person of young Johnson. 
 He, however, taught him all he knew himself, and 
 sent him to school to learn more. In this way ho 
 picked up some Latin and Greek before his six- 
 teenth year, when he was placed in a store in 
 Boston. He did not remain long, however, be- 
 hind the counter, but commenced business on his 
 own account as an itinerant schoolmaster, now 
 and then visiting Wrentham, on one occasion in 
 the garb of a sailor, " bearing," says his bio- 
 grapher, " both in his dress and person, marks of 
 ill-usage at sea." The following scrap of verse 
 
 found among his papers, in his early hand-writing, 
 probably refers to this venture. 
 
 God's miracles I'll praise on shore, 
 
 And there his blessings reap; 
 But from this moment seek no more 
 
 His wonders on the deep. 
 
 In 1790, when about the age of nineteen, he 
 was at the head of the village school of Bridge- 
 hainpton, Long Island. lie saved a little money, 
 and finding his way to East Hampton, six: miles 
 distant, commenced the study of medicine with 
 Dr. Sage, a physician of that place; After his 
 funds were exhausted, he supported himself by 
 working for a cabinet-maker two days in the 
 week, in payment for his board during the entire 
 seven. 
 
 After two years at East Hampton, a good por- 
 tion of which seems to have been spent in verse 
 and love as well as cabinet-making, Johnson came 
 to New York to seek his fortune. He continued 
 the study of medicine after his arrival with Dr. 
 Amasa Dingley, supporting himself as well as 
 lie could as a writer of newspaper paragraphs 
 (which, judging from the meagreness of the papers 
 of that day, must have afforded equally meagre 
 means of sustenance), and as a teacher. During 
 this period, almost of destitution, he was tempted 
 by a publisher's offer to translate one of the infi- 
 del books then in vogue in France, the " Christian- 
 isme Dvoilie" of Bonlanger. He regretted this 
 act afterwards. " I do not believe," he wrote to 
 a friend, " that Boulanger's sentiments c inoernihg 
 the Christian religion are just. I believe the 
 most prominent features of the monster in ques- 
 tion, are sophistry and rancour." " Persuasion 
 and poverty," he says in the same letter, "in- 
 duced me to translate this work of Bonlanger." 
 
 Soon after this having in the meantime nar- 
 rowly escaped death from an attack of yellow 
 fever, he received a proposal from Dr. Robert 
 Brownlield, of Georgetown, S. C, to enter into 
 a medical partnership at that place. He accepted 
 the offer, the more readily as he was desirous of 
 placing himself in a position which would justify 
 him, by providing means of support, in asking 
 the hand of a lady to whom he had become at- 
 tached, and arrived at the place in February, 
 1706. He was successful in the practice of his 
 profe -si on, and seemed on the point of securing 
 Ids wishes, when he was attacked by a fever in 
 the autumn after his arrival. His constitution 
 had been previously impaired by illness, and lie 
 remained an invalid during the winter. In June 
 he was again seized, and at last, yielding to the 
 entreaties of bis friend Dr. Brownfield, made a 
 visit to the North for the benefit of his health. 
 On his arrival at New York in August, he went 
 to Jamaica, Long Island. Here his old friends 
 soon surrounded him. But a short time only 
 remained for the exercise of their affection, hii 
 death occurring on the twenty-first of September 
 following. 
 
 Our knowledge of Johnson is derived from two 
 of a series of articles by John Howard Payne, on 
 " Our Neglected Poets," to which we are also 
 indebted for our specimens of his productions, 
 few of which appear to have attained the honors 
 of newspaper, much less collective publication. 
 They deserve a better fate than the " neglect" 
 
586 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 they have experienced, for they display many 
 beauties of thought and expression. 
 
 ON A 8NOW-FLAKE FALLING ON A LADY'S BBEAST. 
 
 To kiss my Celia's fairer breast, 
 
 The snow forsakes its native skies, 
 But proving an unwelcome guest, 
 
 It grieves, dissolves in tears, and dies. 
 
 Its touch, like mine, but serves to wake 
 Through all her frame a death-like chill, — 
 
 Its tears, like those I shed, to make 
 That icy bosom colder still. 
 
 I blame her not : from Celia's eyes 
 
 A common fate beholders proved — 
 Each swam, each fair one, weeps and dies. — 
 
 With envy these, and those with love ! 
 
 Now grim amidst his gathering glooms, 
 
 Lo ! angry AVinter rushes forth : 
 Destruction with the despot comes, 
 
 And all the tempests of the north. 
 
 What time he thunders o'er the heath, 
 Each scene, that charm'd, in terror flies, 
 
 Creation feels his gelid breath, 
 Affrighted nature shrieks and dies. 
 
 Perplex' d and sad, these scenes among, 
 The pondering soul, with fainting steps. 
 
 Quite sick of being, plods along, 
 And o'er the mighty ruin weeps. 
 
 Or lifts the longing eye, and sighs 
 For milder climes and lovelier meads, 
 
 A vernal hour, that never flies, 
 
 And flowers, that rear immortal heads; 
 
 Where ne'er, unchain'd, the maniac blast 
 
 Scours the bleak heavens, with hideous scream : 
 
 Where skies of sapphire, ne'er o'ercast, 
 Incessant pour the golden beam. 
 
 'Tis May ! no more the huntsman finds 
 
 The lingering snow behind the hill ; 
 Her swelling bosom pregnant earth unbinds, 
 
 And love and joycreation fill. 
 
 Over the glassy streamlet's brink, 
 
 Young verdures peep, themselves to view; 
 
 At noon the tipsied insects sit and drink 
 From flowery cups the honeyed dew. 
 
 Deep crimsoned in the dyes of spring, 
 
 On every side broad orchards rise. 
 Soft waving to the breeze's balmy wing, 
 
 Like dancing lights in northern skies. 
 
 In ditties wild, devoid of thought, 
 
 The robin through the day descants, 
 The pensive whip-poor-will, behind the cot 
 
 Her dirge, at evening, sadly ehaunts. 
 
 Queen of the months, soft blushing May ! 
 
 Forever bright, forever dear, 
 Oh, let our prayers prolong thy little stay, 
 
 And exile winter from the year. 
 
 Life, love, and joy, to thee belong, — 
 
 Thee fly the storm and lurid cloud, 
 Thou givest the heavens their blue, the groves their 
 song, 
 
 Thou com'st, and nature laughs aloud. 
 
 Let prouder swains forsake the cell 
 
 In arms, or arts, to rise and shine, — 
 I blame them not — alas ! I wish them well — 
 
 But May and solitude be mine ! 
 
 Clad with the moss of gathering years, 
 The stone of fame shall moulder down, 
 
 Long dried from soft affection's tears, 
 Its place unheeded and unknown. 
 
 Ah ! who would strive for fame that flies 
 Like forms of mist before the gale? 
 
 Renown but breathes before it dies, — 
 A meteor's path ! an idiot's tale 1 
 
 Beneath retirement's sheltering wing, 
 From mad conflicting crowds remote, 
 
 Beside some grove-encircled spring, 
 Let wisdom build your humble cot : 
 
 There clasp your fair one to your breast, 
 Your eyes impearl'd with transport's tear, 
 
 By turns caressing and carest, — 
 Your infant prattlers sporting near. 
 
 Content your humble board shall dress, 
 And poverty shall guard your door, — 
 
 Of wealth and fame, if you have less 
 Than monarchs, you of bliss have more. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A LADY. 
 
 Here sleep in dust, and wait the Almighty's will, 
 Then rise unehang'd, and be an angel still. 
 
 CHABLES BEOCEDEN BKOWN. 
 
 It is somewhat remarkable that the first of our 
 novelists, as well as the first of our painters, 
 should have sprung from a sect, which in princi- 
 ple and practice manifests a repugnance rather 
 than sympathy with the products of the imagi- 
 nation. Charles Brockden Brown was, like Ben- 
 jamin West, of Quaker lineage, his ancestors 
 having emigrated to Pennsylvania in the same 
 ship which brought William Penn to her shores. 
 He was born in Philadelphia on the seventeenth 
 of January, 1771. His middle name was derived 
 from his uncle, who was settled in this country at 
 an early period, under somewhat peculiar circum- 
 stances. This relative was brought up in Eng- 
 land as a student in the office of a lawyer who 
 was disaffected to the government of the reigning 
 monarch, Charles II. While pursuing his studies 
 he accidentally overheard a conversation between 
 his employer and a number of other persons, in 
 which a plot against thegovernment was broached. 
 At the close of the conference the auditor was 
 discovered. A number urged that he should be 
 put to death, but his life was spared by the law- 
 yer's assertion that the youth was of too feeble 
 intellectual capacity to make use of his knowledge. 
 It was then decided that he should be sent out of 
 the country, but the project was not executed 
 until. some time after, when some circumstances 
 had re-excited the fears of the conspirators. He 
 was shipped to Philadelphia, where he rapidly 
 rose to official eminence. He was the "skilful 
 conveyancer" and "great scrivener" who drew 
 up the articles of agreement of the Philadelphia 
 Librar}- for Benjamin Franklin, who records the 
 fact, in 1731. 
 
 The early years of the future novelist were 
 marked by intellectual precocity and physical 
 weakness. He found food in books for the crav- 
 ings caused by the one, and a solace for the de- 
 privations entailed by the other. When but an 
 infant he could be safely left without other com- 
 panion than a picture-book, which would engross 
 
CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN. 
 
 58T 
 
 his attention so completely as to exclude all ideas 
 of mischief and apprehensions of danger. A few 
 years after he would be found in his stockings 
 (an instance of cautious neatness characteristic of 
 Quaker training) mounted on a table in order to 
 trace out the courses of rivers and mountains, on 
 a large map suspended to the wall. This was so 
 favorite a study with him that at the age of ten 
 he could answer any geographical question started 
 in the family. It was a taste which continued 
 through life; one of the works on which he 
 was employed at the time of his death being a 
 treatise on this same subject. General literature 
 was, however, equally attractive, as he devoured 
 the contents of every book he could lay his 
 hands upon. 
 
 A characteristic anecdote is related of him 
 when at the age of ten years. " Why does he 
 call me boy?" said he, referring to a. visitor, who 
 had just left the room, and had thus addressed 
 him in contemptuous reproof for some question or 
 remark; "does he not know that it is neither size 
 nor age, but understanding, that makes the man? 
 I could ask him an hundred questions, none of 
 which he could answer." 
 
 At the age of eleven he entered the school of 
 Robert Proud, a renowned teacher of those days. 
 He remained here five years, pursuing classical 
 studies with such ardor that his slight physical 
 frame o 'ten broke down under his exertions. His 
 periods of relaxation were not, however, passed in 
 inaction. He followed the good advice of his 
 instructor to turn for a while his back on the city 
 as well as the school, and recruit in the pure coun- 
 try air. The excursions consequently performed 
 were generally pedestrian, and were conducive to 
 mental as well as physical strength ; though, as he 
 was usually without i companion, they served 
 somewhat to confirm bin] in a reserved habit of 
 mind. A passion for verse-making succeeded the 
 regular duties of school. He laid Virgil and 
 Homer on the shelf only to endeavor to rival 
 their labors by his own. lie had three historical 
 poems planned out, one on the Discovery of Ame- 
 rica, another on Oortez, and a third devoted to 
 Pizarro. Epic writing, however, happily proved 
 but a passing fancy with him. 
 
 One of his early poetical attempts met with 
 an amusing mishap. It was an Address to 
 Franklin, hut the printer of the periodical in 
 which it appeared saw fit to insert through- 
 out, in place of the author's hero, the name 
 of Washington. " Washington," he says in his 
 journal, "therefore stands arrayed in awkward 
 colours. Philosophy smiles to behold her darling 
 son; she turns with horror and disgust from 
 those who have won the laurel of victory in the 
 field of battle, to this, her favourite candidate, who 
 had never participated in such bloody glory, and 
 whose fame was derived from the conquests of 
 philosophy alone." We next hear of Brown as a 
 law student in the office of Alexander Wilson, a 
 leading member of the Philadelphia bar. The 
 study was as discordant with his mental as its 
 practice with his personal habits. He appears, 
 however, to have at first taken hold of the pro- 
 fession with ardor as he became a member of a 
 law society, bore a leading part in its foren- 
 sic debates, and was elected its President. This 
 association, however, soon had a rival in the for- 
 
 mation of the " Belles Lettres Club," of which 
 Brown, who was at first averse to the project, 
 soon became the leader. He was conscientiously 
 active in both of these associations, and his deci- 
 sions in the cases brought before the first named 
 association show that his mind waswell fitted for 
 the legal profession. But directly after the com- 
 pletion of one of these decisions, says one of his 
 friends, "he gave vent to his fancy in a poetical 
 effusion, as much distinguished by its wild and 
 eccentric brilliancy as the other composition was 
 for its plain sobriety and gravity of style." This 
 anecdote shows the bias of his tastes, and fore- 
 shadows the determination arrived at on the con- 
 clusion of his studies — the abandonment of law 
 for literature. 
 
 The change was one regretted by his family, 
 who had no fortune on which he could fall back 
 from the hazards of an author's career for sup- 
 port; but it was not the wilful prosecution of a 
 whim on the part of Brown. With a view to 
 the improvement of his style he had for some 
 time past kept a daily record of his thoughts and 
 experiences, in which he copied the letters he 
 wrote to his friends and those which he received 
 in return — a practice somewhat similar to that of 
 the inveterate journalizer, Haydon, the painter, 
 who pasted all the letters addressed to him in the 
 ample pages of his folio records. He had tested 
 his intellectual powers in his club compositions, 
 and in a series of essays under the appropriate 
 title of The Bhapsodist, which were published in 
 1789 in the " Columbus Magazine." Their recep- 
 tion had given him confidence in his intellectual 
 resources. A distrust of his qualifications for the 
 more active legal career was doubtless an equally 
 or more exciting cause of his determination. 
 The decision must, however, be regarded, as it 
 seems to have afterwards been by its author, as 
 an unfortunate one. The demands of a profession 
 were precisely those which he needed to cure his 
 shyness, call him from a too retired mode of life, 
 a constant habit of introspection and revery, 
 which he indulged to an injurious extent, and 
 which an exclusively literary career tended, as 
 I his works prove, to foster rather than combat. 
 
 Hue credit must at the same time be given to 
 him for resolution and bravery. He was not only 
 the first person in America who ventured to pur- 
 sue literature as a profession, but almost the first 
 to make an attempt in the field of imaginative 
 writing, disconnected with the advocacy of any 
 question of national or local interest. 
 
 He sought relief from the doubts and anxieties 
 incident to this change of his plans in a journey 
 to New York to visit his intimate friend Dr. 
 Elihu Hubbard Smith, with whom he had become 
 acquainted while the latter was prosecuting his 
 medical studies at Philadelphia. He was intro- 
 duced by this gentleman to William Dunlap, the 
 painter and author, and to most of the leading 
 literary and scientific men of the city, many of 
 whom met at a weekly reunion under the pleasant 
 title of the "Friendly Club,"* of which Brown, 
 who seems to have deserved the epithet of Dr. 
 Johnson, that of being a " dutiable man," soon 
 became a member. Owing, doubtless, to the at- 
 tractiveness of the choice literary society of these 
 
 Vide ante, p. 570. 
 
588 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 gentlemen, our author's visits to New York were 
 more and more prolonged, and following one .ano- 
 ther at less and less intervals, he virtually became 
 a resident of the city. 
 
 A letter published in the " Literary Magazine" 
 written about this time, descriptive of a journey 
 to Bockaway, contains a pleasant and curious 
 description of that celebrated watering-place, 
 which he speaks of as at that time "a place of 
 fashionable resort." 
 
 He wrote in the fall and winter of 1797 a work 
 which he refers to in his journal as " the dialogue 
 of Alcuin, in which the topic of Marriage is dis- 
 cussed with some degree of subtlety, at least." 
 It was pnl lished in the same year, but its crude 
 and hazardous theories on the subject of divorce 
 and other social topics excited little attention, and 
 were abandoned by the author as he grew wiser 
 and older. He also speaks in his journal of 
 having commenced a novel in a series of letters, 
 which was never completed. 
 
 During the summer of 1798 the yellow fever 
 broke out in New York. Brown, unwilling to 
 lose the society of his friend Smith, in whose 
 house he was then resident, determined to remain 
 in the city, relying for security, as he states in a 
 letter to his brother James, on his mode of living, 
 "from which animal food and spirituous liquors 
 are wholly excluded." He also relied on the re- 
 moteness of his residence from the infected dis- 
 trict. The latter advantage was neutralized by 
 the humane conduct of himself and Dr. Smith in 
 removing the friend of the latter, Seandella, an 
 Italian gentleman, who was attacked by the dis- 
 ease, to their home, where he soon after died. 
 13oth friends caught the infection ; but Smith fell, 
 and Drown recovered. 
 
 His correspondence bears touching evidence of 
 /lis sorrow for the loss of his friend, and his novel 
 of Arthur Mervyn gives a similar testimony of the 
 lasting effect which his experience as an eye- 
 witness of and sufferer from the pestilence here 
 and in his native city in 1793 made upon him. 
 
 We next hear of a magazine projected by 
 Brown. It does not seem to have got out of the 
 limbo of castle-building, although the requisites 
 to insure success are moderate. They are thus 
 stated in a letter to bis brother Arnrit, and aro 
 interesting as an item of literary history: 
 
 " Four hundred subscribers will repay the an- 
 nual expense of sixteen hundred dollars. As 
 60on as this number is obtained, the printers will 
 begin, and trust" to the punctual payment of these 
 for reimbursement. All above four hundred will 
 be clear profit to me; one thousand subscribers 
 will produce four thousand five hundred dollars, 
 and deducting the annual expense will leave two 
 thousand seven hundred." 
 
 We find him in 1798 contributing a series of 
 papers entitled The Man at Home to the "Weekly 
 Magazine,"* a miscellany of some merit. These 
 papers have a connecting thread of story, but are 
 for the most part occupied with reflections on 
 men and society. They extend through the first 
 volume, and are followed in the second by his 
 novel of Arthur Mervyn. 
 
 * The Weekly Magazine of Original Essays. Fndtive Pieces, 
 and Interesting Intelligence. Phila. : James Walters. 8vo. 
 pp. 82. It appears to have been continued a little over a year. 
 
 The projected magazine gave way to a scries of 
 fiu' greater importance, not only to the reputation 
 of the author but to that of the literature of his 
 country. His first step, however, in the career 
 which was to make him famous was arrested by 
 an annoying mishap. The story is worth relating 
 as it shows the obstacles with which authorship 
 in America had to struggle in its infancy. Brown 
 wrote his first novel, bearing the title of Sky 
 Wall; or the Man Unknown to Himself* The 
 printer who had engaged to print the work and 
 look to its sale for his pay, died when his ta^k 
 was nearly completed. His executors refused to 
 fulfil the contract or to sell the printed sheets at 
 the price the author's friends offered for them, 
 and thus " Sky Walk" was denied a terrestrial 
 career. The f.ite of the sheets is unknown. 
 Brown, who, judging from the number of his 
 fragmentary manuscripts as well as the incom- 
 plete nature of his published works, wrote quite 
 as much to please himself as the public, did not 
 probably take the matter to heart, and afterwards 
 incorporated portions of his ill-fated novel in 
 Edgar Huntley. 
 
 In the year 1798 his Wieland appeared. It 
 was published in a duodecimo volume of some 
 throe hundred pages by T. & J. Swords and H. 
 Caritat. Its success was immediate, and so stimu- 
 lating to its author that in the December after its 
 publication he wrote Ormond. The publication of 
 this second novel in New York, 1799, was followed 
 by the first part of that of Arthur Mervyn during 
 the same year in Philadelphia. This was followed 
 in a few months by Edgar Huntley, in 1800 by 
 the second part of Arthur Mervyn, and in the 
 next year by Olara Howard and Jane Talbot. 
 His literary labors at this period seem to have 
 been interrupted only by a short visit to some 
 friends at Middletown, Connecticut, in June, 
 1799 ; by a similar excursion to Princeton, New 
 Jersey, to meet his eldest brother, whose ordinary 
 residence was Charleston, South Carolina, and a 
 
 * The " proposals" for publication appear on the cover of tho 
 Weekly Magazine, published in Philadelphia in 1798. 
 
CHAKLE3 BROCKDEN BROWN. 
 
 589 
 
 tour of a few weeks in the summer of 1801, up 
 the Hudson, through Massachusetts to Northamp- 
 ton, and thence by Hartford and New Haven to 
 New York. 
 
 This rapid succession of fictitious narratives is 
 almost unexampled in literary history, but does 
 not seem to have satisfied the intellectual activity 
 of their author. In the month of April, 1799, 
 he carried out his favorite plan of a periodical by 
 the issue in New York of No. 1 of the Monthly 
 Magazine and American Review. He was the 
 chief contributor to its pages, but it does not 
 seem to have met a success equal to his novels, as 
 it closed with the century in 1800. A second 
 attempt wis more permanent; The Literary 
 Magazine and American Register started in Oc- 
 tober, 1803, in Philadelphia, where its projector 
 was again a resident, having been continued for 
 five years. 
 
 In 1803 he also published the first of several 
 political essays, that on the Cession of Louisiana, 
 to France, in which he advocated the purchase 
 of that region by the United States, and the pro- 
 gressive territorial extension of the Union, in ani- 
 mated and earnest language. In November, 1804, 
 ho married Miss Elizabeth Linn, daughter of the 
 Rev. Dr. William Linn, of New York. 
 
 Brown, whose mind seenn to have been at all 
 times clear and practical with regard to the 
 duties of life, aware, perhaps, of the limited scope 
 of his novels, and finding himself breaking loose 
 from the peculiarities of mental existence to 
 wh'ich they owe their power as well as their indi- 
 viduality, applied himself to graver though less 
 ambitious labor, and devoted himself, after his 
 marriage, with increased energy to his literary 
 career. He projected, and by the aid of Mr. Con- 
 rad, the active publisher of his Magazine, issued 
 in 1806 the first volume of the "American Regis- 
 ter." This was the first publication of its kind 
 which appeared in the country. It contained 
 European and American annal <, Review of Lite- 
 rature, Foreign and American State papers, Mis- 
 cellaneous articles, an American Obituary, and a 
 Chronicle, consisting of a large number of brief 
 articles. The narrative portions are excellent. 
 This series was continued in semi-annual volumes, 
 interrupted only by the death of its author five 
 years afterwards. 
 
 A second political pamphlet appeared about 
 this time on the Jay Treaty, rejected by Jefferson. 
 A third, entitled An Address to the Congress of 
 the United States on the utility and justice of 
 restrictions upon Foreign Commerce, with reflec- 
 tions on Foreign Trade in general and thefalure 
 prospects of America, was published in 1809. 
 
 He also planned a. system of general geography, 
 which, with the exception of the part relating to 
 the United States, was completed at the time of 
 his death. It has never been published, but is 
 said by hi3 biographers to have been admirably 
 executed. He also " made considerable progress 
 in a work on Rome during the Age of the Anto- 
 nines, similar to Anacharsis' Travels in Greece."* 
 
 In addition to these MSS. he left behind him 
 a number of elaborately executed architectural 
 drawings, a study which was always a favorite 
 one with him. 
 
 * Life prefixed to tho edition of his novels, 1S27. 
 
 In reading of such a constant series of impor- 
 tant intellectual productions we are in danger of 
 forgetting that their author was a man weak in 
 body though strong in mind. It was doubtless 
 solely in consequence of the strict regime* of his 
 life that he was enabled to resist the attacks of 
 disease which, as we have seen, had seized upon 
 him almost at his birth, until his thirty-ninth 
 year. " When," says he, in a letter written to a 
 friend about this period, "have I known that 
 lightness and vivacity of mind, which the divine 
 flow of health, even in calamity, produces in some 
 men! Never — scarcely ever. Not longer than 
 half an hour at a time, since I have called myself 
 man." In order to combat the now rapidly ad- 
 vancing strides of consumption he was induced 
 to lay aside his books, as years ago in his school- 
 boy days he had been forced to lay aside tho 
 books of others, for a journey from home. He 
 accordingly made a brief visit to New York, 
 stopping at several points in the state of New 
 Jersey. This was in the summer of 1809. On 
 the tenth of November in the same year he took 
 to his bed " with a violent pain in his side for 
 which he was bled" — -and was confined to his 
 room until his death on the twentj'-second of 
 February following. The gentleness and equa- 
 nimity of his life did not desert him at its close. 
 Though often tortured by disease he conversed 
 cheerfully with his wife and friends, and retained 
 full possession of his faculties to the last. 
 
 Brown describes himself as " mute among 
 strangers." Like many persons of reserved habits 
 he took intense enjoyment in the society of his 
 intimate friends. His stationary mode of life 
 shows that he had little of the spirit of adven- 
 ture. " I would rather," he says, " consort for ever 
 with a ploughman or even an old Bergen market- 
 woman, than expose myself to an hundredth part 
 of the perils which beset the heels of a Ledyard 
 or a Park." He was careless of his money, and 
 slovenly in dress. His description of Mervyn has 
 been well applied by his biographer, Dunlap, to 
 himself. " My existence is a series of thoughts, 
 rather than of motions. Ratiocination and deduc- 
 tion leave my senses unemployed." He appears 
 to have had but little sympathy with the Quakers. 
 " The truth is," he says, " I am no better than an 
 outcast of that unwarlike sect." His religious 
 views were unsettled in the early period- of his 
 life, but in tho preface to his Magazine he empha- 
 tically professes his faith in Christianity. His 
 moral character was unexceptionable. He was 
 much beloved by his friends and relatives, and 
 was liberal notwithstanding his poverty, receiv- 
 ing his sisters-in-law, on their father's death, into 
 his own family. In person, Brown was tall and 
 strongly framed, but extremely thin. His com- 
 plexion was pale and sallow, his hair straight and 
 black. The expression of his face was strongly 
 marked with melancholy. "I saw him," says 
 Sully, the painter, " a little before his death. I 
 had never known him — never heard of him — 
 never read any of his works. He was in a deep 
 decline. It was in the month of November — our 
 
 * Brown was an abstinent from spirituous liquors longbefore 
 th J date of temperance societies, and was equally simple in his 
 diet. In one of his magazines he has written papers on the 
 deleterious effect of intemperance, and of the uso of greasy 
 articles of food. 
 
590 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Indian summer — when the air is full of smoke. 
 Passing a window one day, I was caught by the 
 sight of a man, with a remarkable physiognomy, 
 writing at a table in a dark room. The sun 
 shone direotly upon his head. I never shall for- 
 get it. The dead leaves were falling then — it 
 was Charles Broekden Brown." " Brown lived 
 in Philadelphia," says John Neal, who furnishes 
 this anecdote, "in Eleventh, between Walnut 
 and Chesnut streets, in a low, dirty, two-story 
 brick house, standing a little in from the street 
 — with never a tree nor a shrub near it." 
 His novels, though successful, probably added 
 little to his financial resources. He says in one 
 of his letters to his brother, James Brown, dated 
 New York, April, 1800, " Bookmaking, as you 
 observe, is the dullest of all trades, and the most 
 that any American can look for in his native 
 country is to be reimbursed for his unavoidable 
 expenses. * * The saleability of my works will 
 much depend upon their popularity in England, 
 whither Caritat has carried a considerable num- 
 ber of Wieland, Ormond, and Mervyn." 
 
 The novels were reprinted and well received in 
 England, though we are not aware that the 
 author ever derived any pecuniary advantage 
 from their success. Arthur Mervyn and Edgar 
 Huntley have taken a place in Bentley's Library 
 of Standard Romance. 
 
 Brown entertained a moderate estimate of his 
 own literary powers. In the prospectus to his 
 "Literary Magazine," issued October, 1803, he 
 says — " I shall take no pains to conceal my name. 
 Anybody may know it who chooses to ask me or 
 my publisher. I shall not, however, put it at the 
 bottom of this address. My diffidence, as my 
 friends would call it, and my discretion, as my 
 enemies (if I have any) would term it, hinders 
 me from calling out my name in a crowd. * * 
 I am far from wishing, however, that my readers 
 should judge of my exertions by my former ones. 
 I have written much, but take much blame to 
 myself for something which I have written, and 
 take no praise for anything. I should enjoy a 
 larger share of my own respect, at the present 
 moment, if nothing had ever flowed from my pen, 
 the production of which could be traced to me. 
 A variety of causes induce me to form such a 
 wish, but I am principally influenced by the con- 
 sideration that time can scarcely fail of enlarging 
 and refining the powers of a man ; while the 
 world is sure to judge of his capacities and prin- 
 ciples at fifty from what he has written at fifteen." 
 He was not, however, insensible to the pleasure 
 of success. In a letter to his brother, dated Feb. 
 15, 1799, almost the only one in which he alludes 
 to the success of his literary attempts, he says, 
 " I add somewhat, though not so much as I might 
 if I were so inclined, to the number of my friends. 
 I find to be the writer of Wieland and Ormond is 
 a greater recommendation than I ever imagined 
 it would be." 
 
 Caleb Williams was published in 1794. Wie- 
 land appeared four years later. There is an un- 
 doubted resemblance between this and Brown's 
 other novels and that of Godwin. That Brown 
 admired Caleb Williams is amply proved by his 
 letter to his brother, in which he speaks of its 
 "transcendent merits as compared to the mass of 
 novels." The two authors were alike in their 
 
 earnestness and directness, and in their sombre 
 views of society. They both relied more on the 
 development of a story, the working out of an 
 idea, than on the exhibition of character. There 
 is also some similarity of style. Here, however, 
 the resemblance ceases. Caleb Williams is writ- 
 ten to expose the evils of the social system of 
 England, and of the exaggerated ideas of perso- 
 nal honor derived from the times of chivalry 
 working on a noble but morbidly sensitive hero. 
 Wieland is a fanciful attempt to illustrate the 
 effects which might be produced by the compara- 
 tively trifling agency of ventriloquism. One deals, 
 as its title faithfully promises, with " things as 
 they are" — the other tries to trick us into a belief 
 in the supernatural, though not actually deserting 
 the regions of the real — scenes, incidents, charac- 
 ters, results, are all different. 
 
 In writing Wieland, Brown seems to have 
 taken a lesson from the laboratories of his nume- 
 rous medical friends, rather than from any literary 
 model. He probably derived the opening inci- 
 dent, the destruction of the elder Wieland by 
 spontaneous combustion, from the doctors. As 
 he continues his characters are passive matter in 
 his hands. He troubles himself little if any to 
 individualize. They are nothing apart from the 
 circumstances which surround them. It is only 
 when brought into conjunction in the lonety coun- 
 try-house, like the contents of the crucible, that 
 they show their latent virtues, and like these too 
 they are well nigh absorbed in the result. The 
 incidents of the tale are equally faulty. The 
 supernatural voice whose monitions lead Wieland 
 to immolate wife and children, turns out to be 
 the miserable trickery of the " biloquist" Carwi.i, 
 who, commencing the purposeless annoyance of 
 a family of strangers, has not the courage to 
 avow his tricks until after they have led to this 
 bloody catastrophe. With all its improbabilities, 
 however, the tale enforces the breathless attention 
 of the reader from beginning to end. 
 
 Brown was sensible of the abruptness of the 
 introduction of Carwin, and to mend the matter 
 commenced the memoirs of the early career of 
 this mysterious and disagreeable personage in tho 
 "Literary Magazine." He abandoned the plan 
 after writing a few chapters which have no con- 
 nexion whatever with the story they were in- 
 tended to complete, except in the relation of the 
 manner in which the " biloquist" becomes sensi- 
 ble of his peculiar powers. 
 
 The other novels have a mere real though not 
 less intense interest. They introduce us to a 
 somewhat wider range of characters, men of 
 mixed and complicated natures, not the blind 
 slaves and passive agents of a single idea. They 
 bring us, too, to the city, but it is most often 
 to the city in its plague-stricken agonies, when 
 its streets are almost as desolate as the fron- 
 tier settlement and wooded fastnesses in which 
 the author delights. We have little of the 
 domestic life either of city or country. There is 
 scarcely any dialogue to stay the stern progress 
 of events — the characters are more disposed to 
 soliloquize than to talk. We have few glimpses 
 of indoor comfort in mansion or cottage, no 
 peaceful views of smiling landscape. Brown can 
 depict natural scenery, and does it too with a firm 
 and bold hand, but his pictures have more of Sal- 
 
CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN. 
 
 591 
 
 vator than of Claude. In the -wild scenery of 
 Pennsylvania, in the then wilderness of the Forks 
 of the Delaware, he is as much at home as among 
 the right angles of his native city. In Edgar 
 Huntley ho has given full scope to his love of 
 natural scenery. The strange wild ramble of the 
 somnambulist through cave, forest, and river, is 
 full of fine description, though the varying scene 
 is suggested rather than portrayed. The adven- 
 tures with the cougar and the Indians in the same 
 story are wonderfully animated ; anticipating and 
 foreshadowing the more elaborate efforts of the 
 great successor of the first American novelist. 
 
 FIEST APPEARANCE OP CARWIN — FROM WIELAND. 
 
 One sunny afternoon, I was standing in the door 
 of my house, when I marked a person passing close 
 to the edge of the bank that was in front. His pace 
 was a careless and lingering one, and had none of 
 that gracefulness and case which distinguish a per- 
 son with certain advantages of education from a 
 clown. His gait was rustic and awkward. His 
 form was ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders 
 broad and square, breast sunken, his head drooping, 
 his bod}* of uniform breadth, supported by long and 
 lank legs, were the ingredients of his frame. His 
 garb was not ill adapted to such a figure. A 
 slouched hat, tarnished by the weather, a coat of 
 thick grey cloth, cut and wrought, as it seemed, by 
 a country tailor, blue worsted stockings, and shoes 
 fastened by thongs, and deeply discolored by dust, 
 which brush had never disturbed, constituted his 
 dress. 
 
 There was nothing remarkable in these appear- 
 ances ; they were frequently to be met with on the 
 road, and in the harvest field. I cannot tell why I 
 gazed upon them, on this occasion, with more than 
 ordinary attention, unless it were that such figures 
 were seldom seen by me, except on the road or 
 field. This lawn was only traversedby men whoso 
 views were directed to the pleasures of the walk, or 
 the grandeur of the scenery. 
 
 He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if 
 to examine the prospect more deliberately, but never 
 turning his eye towards the house, so as to allow 
 me a view of his countenance. Presently, he entered 
 a copse at a small distance, and disappeared. My 
 eye followed him while he remained in sight. If 
 his image remained for any duration in my fancy 
 after his departure, it was because no other object 
 occurred sufficient to expel it. 
 
 I continued in the same spot for half an hour, 
 vaguely, and by fits, contemplating the image of 
 this wanderer, and drawing, from outward appear- 
 ances, those inferences, with respe t to the intellec- 
 tual history of this person, which experience affords 
 us. I reflected on the alliance which commonly 
 subsists between ignorance and the practice of agri- 
 culture, and indulged myself in airy speculations as 
 to the influence of progressive knowledge in dissolv- 
 ing this alliance, and embodying the dreams of the 
 poets. I asked why the plough and the hoe might 
 not become the trade of every human being, and 
 how this trade might be made conducive to, or, at 
 least, consistent with the acquisition of wisdom and 
 eloquence. 
 
 Weary with these reflections, I returned to the 
 kitchen to perform some household office. I had 
 usually but one servant, and she was a girl about 
 my own age. I was busy near the chimuey, 
 and she was employed near the door of the apart- 
 ment, when some one knocked. The door was 
 opened by her, and she was immediately addressed 
 with — " Pr'ythee, good girl, canst thou supply a 
 
 thirsty man with a glass of buttermilk V She 
 answered that there was none in the house. "Aye, 
 but there is some in the dairy, yonder. Thou 
 knowest as well as I, though Hermes never taught 
 thee, that though every dairy be a house, every 
 house is not a dairy." To this speech, though she 
 understood only a part of it, she replied by repeat- 
 ing her assurances, that she had none to give. 
 " Well, then," rejoined the stranger, " for charity's 
 sweet sake, hand me forth a cup of cold water." 
 The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch 
 it. ". Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help 
 myself. Neither manacled nor lame, I should merit 
 burial in the maw of carrion crows, if I laid this 
 task upon thee." She gave him the cup, and he 
 turned to go to the spring. 
 
 I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words 
 uttered by the person without, affected me as some- 
 what singular, but what chiefly rendered them re- 
 markable, was the tone that accompanied them. It 
 was wholly new. My brother's voice and Pleyel's 
 were musical and energetic. I had fondly imagined, 
 that, in this respect, they were surpassed by none. 
 Now my mistake was detected. I cannot pretend 
 to communicate the impression that was made upon 
 me by these accents, or to depict the degree in 
 which force and sweetness were blended in them. 
 They were articulated with a distinctness that was 
 unexampled in my experience. But this was not 
 all. The voice was not only mellifluent and clear, 
 but the emphasis was so just, and the modulation so 
 impassioned, that it seemed as if a heart of stone 
 could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to 
 me an emotion altogether involuntary and incon- 
 trollable. When he uttered the words, " for charity's 
 sweet sake," I dropped the cloth that I held in my 
 hand, my heart, overflowed with sympathy, and my 
 eyes with unbidden tears. 
 
 This description will appear to you trifling or 
 incredible. The importance of these circumstances 
 will be manifested in the sequel. The manner in 
 which I was affected on this occasion, was, to my 
 own apprehension, a subject of astonishment. The 
 tones were indeed such as I never heard before; but 
 that they should, in an instant, as it were, dissolve 
 me in tears, will not easily be believed by others, 
 and can scarcely be comprehended by myself. 
 
 It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat 
 inquisitive as to the person and demeanor of our 
 visitant. After a moment's pause, I stepped to the 
 door and looked after him. Judge my surprise, 
 when I beheld the self-same figure that had appeared 
 a half hour before upon the bank. My fancy had 
 conjured up a very different image. A form, and 
 attitude, and garb, were instantly created worthy 
 to accompany such elocution ; but this person was, 
 in all visible respects, the reverse of this phantom. 
 Strange as it may seem, I could not speedily recon- 
 cile myself to this disappointment. Instead of 
 returning to my employment, I threw myself in a 
 chair that was placed opposite the door, and sunk 
 into a fit of musing. 
 
 My attention was, in a few minutes, recalled by 
 the stranger, who returned with the empty cup in 
 his hand. I had not thought of the circumstance, or 
 should certainly have chosen a different seat. Ho 
 no sooner showed himself, than a confused sense of 
 impropriety, added to the suddenness of the inter- 
 view, for which, not having foreseen it, I had made 
 no preparation, threw me into a state of the most 
 painful embarrassment. He brought with him a 
 placid brow ; but no sooner had he cast his eyes upon 
 me than his face was as glowingly suffused as my 
 own. He placed the cup upon the bench, stammered 
 out thanks, and retired. 
 
592 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was 6ome time before I could recover my 
 ■wonted composure. I had snatched a view of the 
 stranger's countenance. The impression that it 
 made was vivid and indelible. His cheeks were 
 pallid and lank, his eyes sunken, his forehead over- 
 shadowed by coarse straggling hairs, his teeth large 
 and irregular, though sound and brilliantly while, 
 and his chin discolored by a tetter. His skin was of 
 coarse grain, and sallow hue. Every feature was 
 wide of beauty, and the outline of his face reminded 
 you of an inverted cone. 
 
 And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would 
 allow it to be seen, his eyes lustrously black, and 
 possessing, in the midst of haggardness, a radiance 
 inexpressibly serene and potent, and something in 
 the rest of his features, which it would be in vain to 
 describe, but which served to betoken a mind of the 
 highest order, were essential ingredients in the por- 
 trait. This, in the effects which immediately flowed 
 from it, I count among the most extraordinary in- 
 cidents of my life. This face, seen for a moment, 
 continued for hours to occupy my fancy, to the 
 exclusion of almost every other image. I had pur- 
 posed to spend the evening with my brother, but I 
 could not resist the inclination of foi-ming a sketch 
 upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether 
 my hand was aided by any peculiar inspiration, or 
 I was deceived by my own fond conceptions, this 
 portrait, though hastily executed, appeared unexcep- 
 tionable to my own taste. 
 
 I placed it at all distances, and in all lights ; my 
 eyes were riveted upon it. Half the night passed 
 away in wakefulness and in contemplation of this 
 picture. So flexible, and yet so stubborn, is the 
 human mind. So obedient to impulses the most 
 transient and brief, and yet so unalterably ob- 
 servant of the direction which is given to it! 
 How little did I then foresee the termination of 
 that chain, of which this may be regarded as the 
 first link ? 
 
 YELLOW FEVEE SCENES IN PHILADELPHIA, 1793 — FEOM AETIIUR 
 HF.EVYN. 
 
 In proportion as I drew near the city, the tokens 
 of its calamitous condition became more apparent. 
 Every farm-house was filled with supernumerary 
 tenants ; fugitives from home ; and haunting the 
 skirts of the road, eager to detain every passenger 
 with inquiries after news. The passengers were 
 numerous; for the tide of emigration was by no 
 means exhausted. Some were on foot, bearing in 
 their countenances the tokens of their recent terror, 
 and filled with mournful reflections on the forlorn- 
 ness of their state. Few had secured to themselves 
 an asylum ; some were without the means of paying 
 for victuals or lodging for the coming night; oihers, 
 who were not thus destitute, 3 7 et knew not whither 
 to apply for entertainment, every house being 
 already overstocked with inhabitants, or barring its 
 inhospitable doors at their approach. 
 
 Families of weeping mothers, and dismayed chil- 
 dren, attended with a few pieces of indispensable 
 furniture, were carried in vehicles of every form. 
 The parent or husband had perished; and the price 
 of some moveable, or the pittance handed forth by 
 public charity, had been expended to purchase the 
 means of retiring from this theatre of disasters; 
 though uncertain and hopeless of accommodation in 
 the neighboring districts. 
 
 Between these and the fugitives whom curiosity 
 had led to the road, dialogues frequently took place, 
 to which I was suffered to listen. From every 
 mouth the tale of sorrow was repeated with new 
 aggravations. Pictures of their own distress, or of 
 tliat of their neighbors, were exhibited in all the 
 
 hues which imagination can annex to pestilence and 
 poverty. 
 
 My preconceptions of the evil now appeared to 
 have fallen short of the truth. The dangers into 
 which I was rushing, seemed more numerous and 
 imminent than I had previously imagined. I wavered 
 not in my purpose. A panic crept to my heart, 
 which more vehement exertions were necessary to 
 subdue or control; but I hai bored not a momentary 
 doubt that the course which 1 had taken was pre- 
 scribed by duty. Theie was no difficulty or reluc- 
 tance in proceeding. All for which my efforts were 
 demanded, was to walk in this path without tumult 
 or alarm. 
 
 Various circumstances had hindered me from set- 
 ting out upon this journey as early as was proper. 
 My frequent pauses to listen to the narratives of 
 travellers, contributed likewise to procrastination. 
 The sun had nearly set before I reached the pre- 
 cincts of the city. I pursued the track which I had 
 j formerly taken, and entered High street after night- 
 | fall. Instead of equipages and a Huong of passen- 
 gers, the voice of levity and glee, which I had for- 
 merly observed, and which the mildness of the 
 season would, at other times, have produced, I 
 found nothing but a dreary solitude. 
 
 The market-place, and each side of this magnifi- 
 cent avenue were illuminated, as before, by lamps; 
 but between the verge of Schuylkill and the heart 
 of the city, I met not more than a dozen figures; 
 and these were ghost-like, wrapt in cloaks, from 
 behind which they cast upon me glances of wonder 
 and suspicion ; and, as I approached, changed their 
 course, to avoid touching me. Their clothes were 
 sprinkled with vinegar; and their nostrils defended 
 from contagion by some powerful perfume. 
 
 I cast a look upon the houses, which I recollected 
 to have formerly been, at this hour, brilliant with 
 lights, resounding with lively voices, and thronged 
 with busy faces. Now they were closed, above and 
 below; dark, and without tokens of being inhabited. 
 From the upper windows of some, a gleam some- 
 times fell upon the pavement I was traversing, and 
 showed that their tenants had not fled, but were 
 secluded or disabled. 
 
 These tokens were new, and awakened all my 
 panics. Death seemed to hover over this scene, and 
 1 dreaded that the floating pestilence had already 
 lighted on my frame. 1 had scarcely overcome 
 these tremors, when I approached a house, the door 
 of which was opened, and before which stood avehi- 
 cle, which I presently recognised to be a hearse. 
 
 The driver was seated on it. I stood still, to 
 mark his visage, and to observe the course which he 
 proposed to take. Presently a coffin, borne by two 
 men, issued from the house. The driver was a 
 negro, but his companions were white. Their fea- 
 tures were marked by ferocious indifference to dan- 
 ger or pity. 
 
 One of them, as he assisted in thrusting the coffin 
 into the cavity provided for it, said, " I'll be damned 
 if I think the poor dog was quite dead. It wasn't 
 the fever that ailed him, but the sight of the girl 
 and her mother on the floor. I wonder how they all 
 got into that room. 'What carried them there?" 
 
 The other surlily muttered, " Their legs, to be 
 sure." 
 
 " But what should they hug together in one room 
 for?" 
 
 " To save us trouble, to be sure." 
 
 " And I thank them with all my heart ; but 
 damn it, it wasn't right to put him in his coffin 
 before the breath was fairly gone. I thought the 
 last look he gave me, told me to stay a few 
 minutes." 
 
CHARLES BUOCKDEN BROWN. 
 
 593 
 
 " Pshaw ! He could not live. The sooner dead 
 the better for him ; as well as for ns. Did you 
 mark how he eyed us, when we carried away his 
 wife and daughter? I never cried in my life, since 
 I was knee-high, but curse me if I ever felt in better 
 tune for the business than just then. Hey I" con- 
 tinued he, looking up, and observing me standing a 
 few paces distant, and listening to their discourse, 
 " what's wanted ? Anybody dead ?" 
 
 I stayed not to answer or parley, but hurried for- 
 ward. My joints trembled, and cold drops stood on 
 my forehead. I was ashamed of my own infirmity ; 
 and by vigorous efforts of my reason, regained some 
 degree of composure. The evening had now ad- 
 vanced, and it behoved me to procure accommoda- 
 tion at some of the inns. 
 
 These were easily distinguished by their siij/is, 
 but many were without inhabitants. At length, I 
 lighted upon one, the hall of which was open, and 
 the windows lifted. After knocking for some time, 
 a young girl appeared, with many marks of distress. 
 In answer to my question, she answered that both 
 her parents were sick, and that they could receive 
 no one. 1 inquired, in vain, for any other tavern at 
 which strangers might be accommodated. She 
 knew of no ie such ; and left me, on some one's call- 
 ing to her from above, in tlie midst of my embarrass- 
 ment. After a moment's pause, I returned, discom- 
 forted and perplexed, to the street. 
 
 I proceeded, in a considerable degree, at random. 
 At length I reached a spacious building in Fourth 
 street, which the sign-post showed me to be an inn. 
 I knocked loudly and often at the door. At length 
 a female opened the window of the second story, 
 and in a tone of peevishness demanded what I 
 wanted? I told her that I wanted lodging. 
 
 " Go hunt font somewhere else," said she; "you'll 
 find none here." I began to expostulate ; but she 
 shut the window with quickness, and left me to my 
 own reflections. 
 
 I began now to feel some regret at the journey I 
 had taken. Never, in the depth of caverns or 
 forests, was I equally conscious of loneliness. I was 
 surrounded by the habitations of men; but I was 
 destitute of associate or friend. I had money, but a 
 horse shelter, or a morsel of food, could not be pur- 
 chased. I came for the purpose of relieving others, 
 but stood in the utmost need myself. Even in health 
 my condition was helpless and forlorn ; but what 
 would become of me, should this fatal malady be 
 contracted. To hope that an asylum would be 
 afforded to a sick man. which was denied to me in 
 health, was unreasonable. 
 
 The first impulse which flowed from these reflec- 
 tions, was to hasten back to Mafaerton ; which, 
 with sufficient diligence, I might hope to regain 
 before the morning light. I could not, methought, 
 return upon my steps witli too much speed. I was 
 prompted to run, as if the pest was rushing upon me, 
 and could be eluded only by the most precipitate 
 flight 
 
 This impulse was quickly counteracted by new 
 ideas. I thought with indignation and shame on 
 the imbecility of my proceeding. I called up the 
 images of Susan Hadwin, and of Wallace. I re- 
 viewed the motives which had led me to the under- 
 taking of this journey. Time had, by no means, 
 diminished their force. I hail, indeed, nearly arrived 
 at the accomplishment of what I had intended. A 
 few steps would carry me to Thetford's habitation. 
 This might be the critical moment, when succour 
 was most needed, and would, be most efficacious. 
 
 I had previously concluded to defer goi ;g thither 
 till the ensuing morning; but why should I allow 
 myself a moment's delay ? I might at least gain an 
 
 vol. i. — 38 
 
 external view of the house, and circumstances might 
 arise, which would absolve me from the obligation 
 of remaining an hour longer in the city. All for 
 which I came might be performed ; the destiny of 
 Wallace be ascertained ; and 1 be once more safe 
 within the precincts of Malverion before the return 
 of day. 
 
 I immediately directed my steps towards the habi- 
 tation of Thetford. Carriages bearing the dead 
 were frequently discovered. A few passengers like- 
 wise occurred, whose hnsty and perturbed steps 
 denoted their participation in the common distress. 
 The house, of which I was in quest, quickly appeared. 
 Light from an upper window indicated that it was 
 still inhabited. 
 
 I paused a moment to reflect in what manner it 
 became me to proceed. To ascertain the existence 
 and condition of Wallace was the purpose of my 
 journey. He had inhabited this house ; and whether 
 he remained in it, was now to be known. I felt 
 repugnance to enter, since my safety might, by 
 entering, be unawares and uselessly endangered. 
 Most of the neighboring houses were apparently 
 deserted. In some there were various tokens of 
 people being within. Might I not inquire, at one 
 of these, respecting the condition of Thetford's 
 family ? Yet why should I disturb them by in- 
 quiries so impertinent, at this unseasonable hour? 
 To knock at Thetford's door, and put my questions 
 to him who should obey the signal, was the obvious 
 method. 
 
 I knocked dubiously and lightly. No one came. 
 I knocked again, and more loudly ; I likewise drew 
 the bell. I distinctly heard its distant peals. If 
 any were within, my signal could not fail to be 
 noticed. I paused, and listened, but neither voice 
 nor footsteps could be heard. The light, though 
 obscured by window curtains, which seemed to be 
 drawn close, was still perceptible. 
 
 I ruminated on the causes that might hinder my 
 summons from being obeyed. I figured to myself 
 nothing but the helplessness of disease, or the insen- 
 sibility of death. These images only urged me to 
 persist in endeavoring to obtain admission. With- 
 out weighing the consequences of my act, I involun- 
 tarily lifted the latch. The door yielded to my 
 hand, and I put my feet within the passage. 
 
 Once more I paused. The passage was of consi- 
 derable extent, and at the end of it I perceived light 
 as from a lamp or candle. This impelled me to go 
 forward, till I reached the foot of a staircase. A 
 candle stood upon the lowest step. 
 
 This was a new proof that the house was not 
 deserted. I struck my heel against the floor with 
 some violence ; but this, like my former signals, was 
 unnoticed. Having proceeded thus far, it would 
 have been absurd to retire with my purpose un- 
 effected. Taking the candle in my hand, I opened 
 a door that was near. It led into a spacious parlor, 
 furnished with profusion and splendor. I walked 
 to and fro, gazing at the objects which presented 
 themselves ; and involved in perplexity, I knocked 
 with my heel louder than ever ; but no less inef- 
 fectually. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lights which I had seen, it 
 was possible that the house was uninhabited. This 1 
 was resolved to ascertain, by proceeding' to the 
 chamber which I had observed, from without, to be 
 illuminated. This chamber, as far as the comparison 
 of circumstances would permit me to decide,, I be- 
 lieved to be the same in which I had passed the 
 first night of my late abode in the city. Now was 
 I, a second time, in almost equal ignorance of my 
 situation, and of the coOscquences which impended, 
 exploring my way to the same recess. 
 
594 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 I mounted the stair. As I approached the door 
 of which I was in search, a vapor, infectious and 
 deadly, assailed my senses. It resembled nothing 
 of which I had ever before been sensible. Many 
 odors had been met with, even since my arrival in 
 the city, less supportable than this. I seemed not 
 bo much to smell as to taste the element that now 
 encompassed me. I felt as if I had inhaled a poison- 
 ous and subtle fluid, whose power instantly bereft 
 my stomach of all vigor. Some fatal influence ap- 
 peared to seize upon my vitals ; and the work of 
 corrosion and decomposition to be busily begun. 
 
 For a moment, I doubted whether imagination 
 had not some share in producing my sensation ; but 
 I had not been previously panic-struck; and even 
 now I attended to my own sensations without men- 
 tal discomposure. That I had imbibed this disease 
 was not to be questioned. So far the chances in 
 my favor were annihilated. The lot of sickness was 
 drawn. 
 
 Whether my ease would be lenient or malignant ; 
 whether I should recover or perish, was to be left 
 to the decision of the future. This incident, instead 
 of appalling me, tended rather to invigorate my 
 courage. The danger which I feared had come. I 
 might enter with indifference on this theatre of 
 pestilence. I might execute without faltering, the 
 duties that my circumstances might create. My 
 state was no longer hazardous; and my destiny 
 would be totally uninfluenced by my future con- 
 duct. 
 
 The pang with which I was first seized, and the 
 momentary inclination to vomit, which it produced, 
 presently subsided. My wholesome feelings, indeed, 
 did not revisit me, but strength to proceed was 
 restored to me. The effluvia became more sensible 
 as I approached the door of the chamber. The 
 door was ajar ; and the light within was perceived. 
 My belief, that those within were dead, was pre- 
 sently confuted by a sound, which I first supposed 
 to be that of steps moving quickly and timorously 
 across the floor. This ceased, and was succeeded by 
 sounds of different, but inexplicable import 
 
 Having entered the apartment, I saw a candle on 
 the hearth. A table was covered with vials and 
 other apparatus < f a sick chamber. A bed stood on 
 one side, the curtain of which was dropped at the 
 foot, so as to conceal, any one within. I fixed my 
 eyes upon this object. There were sufficient tokens 
 that some one lay upon the bed. Breath, drawn at 
 long intervals; mutterings scarcely audible ; and a 
 tremulous motion in the bedstead, were fearful and 
 intelligible indications. 
 
 If my heart faltered, it must not be supposed that 
 my trepidations arose from any selfish considera- 
 tions. Wallace only, the object of my search, was 
 present to my fancy. Pervaded with remembrance 
 of the Had wins; of the agonies which they had 
 already endured ; of the despair which would over- 
 whelm the unhappy Susan, when the death of her 
 lover should be ascertained ; observant of the lonely 
 condition of this house, whence I could only infer 
 that the sick had been denied suitable attendance ; 
 and reminded by the symptoms that appeared, that 
 this being was struggling with the agonies of death ; 
 a sickness of the heart, more insupportable than 
 that which I h:id just experienced, stole upon me. 
 
 My fancy readily depicted the progress and com- 
 pletion of this tragedy. Wallace was the first of 
 the family on whom the pestilence had seized. 
 Thetford had fled from his habitation. Perhaps, as 
 a father and husband, to shun the danger attending 
 his stay, was the injunction of his duty. It was 
 questionless the conduct which selfish regards would 
 dictate. Wallace was left to perish alone; or, per- 
 
 haps, which indeed was a supposition somewhat jus- 
 tified by appearances, lie had been left to the ten- 
 dence of mercenary wretches ; by whom, at this 
 desperate moment he had been abandoned. 
 
 I was not mindless of the possibility that these 
 forebodings, specious as they were, might be false. 
 The dying person might be some other than Wallace. 
 The whispers of my hope were, indeed, faint; but 
 they, at least, prompted me to snatch a look at the 
 expiring man. For this purpose, I advanced and 
 thrust my head within the curtain. 
 
 The features of one whom I had seen so tran- 
 siently as Wallace, may be imagined to be i ot easily 
 recognised, especially when those features were 
 tremulous and deathful. Here, however, the differ- 
 ences were too conspicuous to mislead me. I beheld 
 one in whom I could recollect none that bore resem- 
 blance. Though ghastly and livid, the traces of 
 intelligence and beauty were undefaced. The life 
 of Wallace was of more value to a feeble individual, 
 but surely the being that was stretched before me, 
 and who was hastening to his last breath, was pre- 
 cious to thousands. 
 
 Was he not one in whose place I would willingly 
 have died? The offering was too late. His ex- 
 tremities were already cold. A vapor, noisome and 
 contagious, hovered over him. The flutterings of 
 his pulse had ceased. His existence was about to 
 close amidst convulsion and paugs. 
 
 I withdrew my gaze from this object, and walked 
 to a table. I was nearly unconscious of my move- 
 ments. My thoughts were occupied with contem- 
 plations of the train of horrors and disasters that 
 pursue the race of man. My musings were quickly 
 interrupted by the sight of a small cabinet, the 
 hinges of which were broken and the lid half raised. 
 In the present state of my thoughts, I was prone to 
 suspect the worst. Here were traces of pillage. 
 Some casual or mercenary attendant had not only 
 contributed to hasten the death of the patient, but 
 had rifled his property and fled. 
 
 This suspicion would, perhaps, have yielded to 
 mature reflections, if I had been suffered to reflect. 
 A moment scarcely elapsed, when some appearance 
 in the mirror, which hung over the table, called my 
 attention. It was a human figure, nothing could be 
 briefer than the glance that 1 fixed upon this appa- 
 rition, yet there was room enongh for the vague 
 conception to suggest itself, that the dying man had 
 started from his bed and was approaching me. 
 This belief was, at the same instant, confuted, by 
 the survey of his form and garb. One eye, a scar 
 upon his cheek, a tawny skin, a form grotesquely 
 misproportioned, brawny as Hercules, and habited 
 in livery, composed, as it were, the parts of one 
 view. 
 
 To perceive, to fear, and to confront this appari- 
 tion were blended into one sentiment, I turned 
 towards him with the swiftness of lightning, but my 
 speed was useless to my safety. A blow upon my 
 temple was succeeded by an utter, oblivion of 
 thought and of feeling. I sank upon the floor pros- 
 trate and senseless. 
 
 My insensibility might be mistaken by observers 
 for death, yet some part of this interval was haunte-,* 
 by a fearful dream. I conceived myself lyinp; on 
 the brink of a pit, whose bottom the eye could not 
 reach. My hands and legs were fettered, so as to 
 disable me from resisting two grim and gigantic 
 figures, who stooped to lift me from the earth. 
 Their purpose, metl. ought, was to cast me into this 
 abyss. My terrors were unspeakable, and I strug- 
 gled with such force, that my bonds snapped and I 
 found myself at libery. At this moment my senses 
 returned and I opened my eyes. 
 
THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN. 
 
 50; 
 
 The memory of recent events was, for a time, 
 effaced by my visionary honors. I was conscious 
 of transition from one state of being to another, but 
 my imagination was still filled witli images of dan- 
 ger. The bottomless gulf and my gigantic perse- 
 cutors were still dreaded. I looked up with eager- 
 ness. Beside me I discovered three figures, whose 
 character or office were explained by a coffin of pine 
 boards which lay upon the floor. One stood with 
 hammer and nails in his hand, as ready to replace and 
 fasten the lid of the coffin, as soon as its burthen 
 should be received. 
 
 I attempted to rise from the floor, but my head 
 was dizzy and my sight confused. Perceiving me 
 revive, one of the men assisted me to regain my 
 feet. Tbe mist and confusion presently vanished, so 
 as to allow me to stand unsupported and to move. 
 I once more gazed at my attendants, and recognised 
 the three men, whom I had met in High street, and 
 whose conversation I have mentione 1 that I over- 
 heard. I looked again upon the coffin, A waver- 
 ing recollection of the incidents that led me hither 
 and of the stunning blow which I had received, 
 occurred to me. I saw into what error appearances 
 had misled these men, and shuddered to reflect, by 
 what hairbreadth menus I had escaped being buried 
 alive. 
 
 Before the men had time to interrogate me, or to 
 comment upon my situation, one entered the apart- 
 ment, whose habit and mien tended to encourage 
 me. The stranger was characterized by an aspect 
 full of composure and benignity, a face in which the 
 serious lines of age were blended with the ruddiness 
 and smoothness of youth, and a garb that bespoke 
 that religious profession, witli whose benevolent 
 doctrines the example of Hadwiu had rendered me 
 familiar. 
 
 On observing me on my feet, he betrayed marks 
 of surprise and satisfaction. He addressed me in a 
 tone of mildness. 
 
 " Young man," said he, "what is thy condition? 
 Art thou sick? If thou art, thou must consent to 
 receive the best treatment which the times will 
 afford. These men will convey thee to the hospital 
 at Bush Hill." 
 
 The mention of that contagious and abhorred re- 
 ceptacle, inspired me with some degree of energy. 
 " Wo," said I, " I am not sick, a violent blow reduced 
 me to this situation. I shall presently recover 
 strength enough to leave the spot without assistance." 
 
 He looked at me, with an incredulous but com- 
 passionate air ; " I fear thou dost deceive thyself or 
 me. The necessity of going to the hospital is much 
 to be regretted, but on the whole it is best. Per- 
 haps, indeed, thou hast kindred or friends who will 
 take care of thee." 
 
 "No," said I; "neither kindred nor friends. I 
 am a stranger in the city. I do not even know a 
 single being." 
 
 "Alas!" returned the stranger, with a sigh, " thy 
 state is sorrowful — but how earnest thou hither?" 
 continued he, looking around him, "and whence 
 coinest thou?" 
 
 " I came from the country. I reached the city a 
 few hours ago. I was in search of a friend who 
 lived in this house." 
 
 " Thy undertaking was strangely hazardous and 
 rash ; but who is the friend thou seckest ? Was it 
 he who died in that bed, and whose corpse has just 
 been removed ?" 
 
 The men now betrayed some impatience ; and in- 
 quired of the last comer, whom they called Mr. 
 Estwick, what lliey were to do. He turned to me, 
 and asked if I were willing to be conducted to the 
 hospital ? 
 
 I assured him that I was free from disease, and 
 6tood in no need of assistance ; adding, that my 
 feebleness was owing to a stunning blow received 
 from a ruffian on my temple. The marks of this 
 blow were conspicuous, and after some hesitation he 
 dismissed the men ; who, lifting the empty coffin on 
 their shoulders, disappeared. 
 
 He now invited me to descend into the parlor ; 
 " for," said he, " the air of this room is deadly. I 
 feel already as if I should h^e reason to repent of 
 having entered it." 
 
 He now inquired into the cause of those appear- 
 ances which he had witnessed. I explained my 
 situation as clearly and succinctly as I was able. 
 
 After pondering, in silence, on my story ; — " I see 
 how it is," said he ; " the person whom thou sawest 
 in the agonies of death was a stranger. He was 
 attended by his servant and a hired nurse. His 
 master's death being certain, the nurse was des- 
 patched by the servant to procure a coffin. He pro- 
 bably chose that opportunity to rifle his master's 
 trunk, that stood upon the table. Thy unseasonable 
 entrance interrupted him ; and he designed, by the 
 blow which he gave thee, to secure his retreat 
 before the arrival of a hearse. I know the man, 
 and the apparition thou hast so well described, was 
 his. Thou sayest that a friend of thine lived in his 
 house — thou hast come too late to be of service. 
 The whole family have perished. Not one was suf- 
 fered to escape." 
 
 THOMAS GEEEN FESSENDEN, 
 
 Thojias Gkekn, the son of the Rev. Thomas Fes- 
 senden of that place, author of a volume entitled 
 A Theoretical Explanation of the Science of Sanc- 
 tity, was born at Walpole, New Hampshire, April 
 22, 1771. He completed his course at Dartmouth 
 in 170G, having supported himself while at college 
 by teaching psalmody in the evenings, and keep- 
 ing school during the vacations, and afterwards 
 studied law at Rutland, Vt. While thus occupied, 
 he amused his leisure hours by contributing to 
 the Dartmouth Eagle and the Walpole Farmer's 
 Weekly Museum, a number of humorous poems 
 similar in style to those of Royal Tyler and the 
 other " Walpole Wits." One of these, " The 
 Country Lovers," became very popular. In 1801, 
 he visited London for the purpose of introducing 
 a new hydraulic machine, in which he had, with 
 a number of friends, become interested ; but on 
 subjecting the machine to a more thorough test 
 than it had received in America, it w-as found 
 not to an-uver the purpose. IIU plans thus frus- 
 trated, in tlie hope of still turning his journey 
 to account, he embarked in a project set on 
 foot by a fellow countryman, resident in Lon- 
 don, of constructing a water-mill on the Thames. 
 He invested his means in the purchase of one-fifth 
 of the concern. The project failed. During the 
 season of anxiety occasioned by this disaster, and 
 while a portion of the time confined to his bed 
 by sickness, he made a literary venture, which 
 
 MVW*^ 
 
 proved as successful as his former attempts hat 1 
 disastrous. 
 
596 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 The Terrible Tractoration* was composed as a 
 satire on tha medical profession in general; its 
 special subject being the Metallic Tractors of 
 Perkins,t an application of galvanism to the 
 treatment of disease, in the efficacy of which 
 Fessenden then and afterwards professed himself 
 to be a believer.! It professes to be com- 
 posed by a starving garreteer in the pay of the 
 faculty, to write down the new invention. A i 
 large portion of the volume is occupied by origi- 
 nal notes, satirizing the commentators, which 
 equal in humor the text they illustrate. The j 
 poem was published anonymously, and was va- ] 
 riously attributed to Gifford, Wolcot, the author 
 of " Peter Pindar," and Huddesford, an author to 
 whom we have already had occasion to allude.§ 
 Its success relieved the author's embarrassments, 
 which, according to a story we have heard, had 
 confined him to a jail, where the poem was 
 written. 
 
 The author followed up this hit by a collec- 
 tion of newspaper contributions, with the title 
 Original Poems. 
 
 In 1804 Fessenden returned to America, where 
 both of his volumes had been reprinted with suc- 
 cess, and published in the same year a violent at- 
 tack, in verse, on the Jeffersunians, entitled Demo- 
 cracy Unveiled, or Tyranny stripped of the garb 
 of Patriotism. He next started a periodical, The 
 Weekly Inspector, in New York, which was con- 
 tinued about two years. This was a pleasant 
 miscellany, of a literary rather than political cha- 
 racter, enlivened by Christopher Caustic's verses, 
 as well as his lively prose, but after a trial of two 
 years proved unsuccessful. The editor closes the 
 fifty-second number with a spirited editorial, from 
 which we extract a few passages : — 
 
 " The inevitable hour," which speedily overtakes, 
 in Columbia's " happy land," every publication 
 which aspires to any character for literature, sci- 
 ence, or general information, above that of a com- 
 mon daily advertising newspaper, has put a period 
 to the Weekly Inspector. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Our good men think that an editor must write — 
 write — write well if he can, but :it any rate write. 
 They measure his brains by the yard. He that will 
 turn out the greatest quantity of matter in a given 
 time is the greatest man. No matter whether new 
 or old, hut something which the majority have not 
 seen. * * * * 
 
 Horace's poet, who could write, I forget how 
 many lines, while he could stand on one leg, would 
 
 * Terrible Tractoration ! ! A Poetical Petition against Galva- 
 nising Trumpery, and the Perkinistic Institution, in four can- 
 tos, most respectfully addressed to the P.oval College of Phy- 
 sicians, by Christopher Caustic. MTD., LL.i)., ASS., Fellow of 
 the Eoyal College of Physicians, Aberdeen, and Honorary 
 Member of no less than nineteen very learned societies. First 
 American, from the second London edition, revised and cor- 
 rected by the author, with additional notes. New York : 
 Samuel Stansbury. 1S04 
 
 + Perkins, alter practising his system in London, came to 
 this country "armed with his tractors, and fortified by the 
 credentials of a score of bishops and other dignitaries of the 
 Church of England," and professed to cure yellow fever by his 
 Tractors. He was allowed, in consequence of the sympathy 
 of the Directors of the New York Hospital, to introduce his 
 practice into that institution. He died himself of the yellow 
 fever in 17911, a few months after his arrival, and was buried 
 in the Potter's Field, now the Washington Parade Ground. 
 — Keminiscences of Christopher Colics, by Dr. J. W. Francis, 
 in Knickerbocker Gallery. 
 
 ± Preface to the Modern Philosopher, 1306, p. 11. 
 
 § Ante. p. 2(3. 
 
 be the man, of all men, for nn editor of an American 
 newspaper. Americans look at the quantity and 
 I not the quality. Give us so much of something, 
 and we will call you a great man. Write us sixteen 
 pages a week of original matter, no matter how 
 much was stolen, and we will set you on the top of 
 a liberty pole. 
 
 In 1806 he published The Minute Philosopher, 
 an enlargement of the Terrible Tractoration. A 
 third edition was published towards the close of 
 his life. 
 
 We next hear of him in 1812, as practising 
 law at Bellows Falls, Vermont. Here he married. 
 In 1815 he removSd to Brattleboro', where he 
 edited The Reporter, a political newspaper. He 
 returned to Bellows Falls in thenext year, where 
 he edited a newspaper called The Intelligencer, a 
 position he retained until 1822, publishing in the 
 meantime a volume in verse, The Ladies' Moni- 
 tor. He then removed to Boston, to commence the 
 New England Farmer, a weekly agricultural jour- 
 nal, which attained high rank in its department, 
 in his hands. While conducting this journal, he 
 edited two other periodicals of a similar charac- 
 ter, Tlie Horticultural Register and The Silk 
 Manual, and also prepared a number of treatises 
 on similar subjects. In these pursuits the remain- 
 der of his life was passed. He died of apoplexy 
 at Boston, November 11, 1837. The Massachu- 
 setts Society for Promoting Agriculture, and the 
 Horticultural Society, erected a monument over 
 his remains at Mount Auburn* Nathaniel Haw- 
 thorne, in an article in the American Monthly 
 Magazine, has furnished a pleasant picture of Fes- 
 senden towards the close of his career. 
 
 In January, 1836, I became, and continued for a 
 few months, an inmate of Mr. Fessenden's family. It 
 was my first acquaintance with him. His image is 
 before my mind's eye at this moment ; slowly ap- 
 proaching me with a lamp in his hand, his hair grey, 
 his face solemn and pale, his tall and portly figure 
 bent with heavier infirmity than befitted his years. 
 His dress — thougli he had improved in this particu- 
 lar since middle life — was marked by a truly scho- 
 lastic negligence. He greeted me kindly, and with 
 plain, old-fashioned courtesy ; though I fancied that 
 he somewhat regretted the interruption of his eve- 
 ning studies. After a few moments' talk, he invited 
 me to accompany him to his study, and give my 
 opinion on some passages of satirical verse, which 
 were to be inserted in a new edition of " Terrible 
 Tractoration." Years before I had lighted on an il- 
 lustrated copy of this poem, bestrewn with vene- 
 rable dust, ia a corner of a college library ; and it 
 seemed strange and whimsical that I should find it 
 still in progress of composition, and be consulted 
 about it by Doctor Caustic himself. While Mr. Fes- 
 senden read, I had leisure to glance around at his 
 study, which was very characteristic of the man and 
 his occupations. The table, and great part of the 
 floor, was covered with books and pamphlets on 
 agricultural subjects, newspapers from all quarters, 
 manuscript articles for the New England p'armer, 
 and manuscript stanzas for "Terrible Tractoration." 
 There was such a litter as always gathers round a 
 literary man. It bespoke, at once, Mr. Fesser den's 
 amiable temper and Ins abstracted habits, that seve- 
 ral members of the family, old and young, were sit- 
 
 * Buckingham's Newspaper Reminiscences, ii. 218-220. 
 Preface to the reprint of Terrible Tractoratior.. 
 
THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN. 
 
 r,o: 
 
 ting in the room, and engaged in conversation, appa- 
 rently without giving him the least disturbance. A 
 specimen of Doctor Caustic's inventive genius was 
 seen in the " Patent Steam and Hot-water Stove," 
 which heated the apartment, and kept up a pleasant 
 singing sound, like that of a tea-kettle, — thereby 
 making the fireside more cheerful. It appears to 
 me, that, having no children of flesh and blood, Mr. 
 Fessenden had contracted a fatherly fondness for 
 this stove, as being his mental progeny ; and it must 
 be owned that the stove well deserved his affection, 
 and repaid it with much warmth. 
 
 THE 
 
 COUNTRY LOVERS ; 
 
 OB, 
 
 MR. JONATHAN JOLTHEAD'S 
 Courtship icith Miss Sally Snapper : 
 
 AN EXCELLENT 
 
 NEW SONG, 
 
 SAID TO BE WRITTEN BY ITS AUTHOE \ 
 And really founded on fact. 
 
 Tune—" YANKEE DOODLE." 
 
 THE COUNTRY LOVERS, ET0. 
 
 A merry tale I will rehearse, 
 
 As ever you did hear, sir, 
 How Jonathan set out, so fierce, 
 
 To see his dearest dear, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle,* keep it up, 
 Yankee doodle dandy, 
 
 Mind the music — mind the step, 
 And with the girls be handy. 
 
 His father gave him bran new suit, 
 
 And money, sir, in plenty, 
 Besides a prancing nag to boot, 
 
 When he was one-and-twenty. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <tc. 
 
 Moreover, sir, I'd have you know, 
 That he had got some knowledge, 
 
 Enough for common use, I trow, 
 But had not been at college. 
 
 Yankee doodle, die. 
 
 A hundred he could count, 'tis said, 
 
 And in the bible read, sir, 
 And by good Christian parents bred, 
 
 Could even say the creed, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 He'd been to school to Master Drawl, 
 
 To spell a-bom-in-a-ble, 
 And when he miss'd, he had to crawl, 
 
 Straight under master's table. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 One day his mother said to him, 
 
 " My darling son, come here, 
 Come fix you up, so neat and trim, 
 And go a courting, dear." 
 
 Yankee doodle, tfec. 
 ' WTiy. what the deuce does mother want? 
 I snigs — I daresn't go ; 
 1 shall get funn'd — and then — plague on't 
 Folks will laugh at me so '." ' 
 
 Yankee doodle, <&e. 
 
 * Yankee doodle, a ludicrous musical air, which I believe 
 was first invented by the English, in derision of the Americans, 
 whom they styled " Yankees." The Americans frequently 
 wrote ludicrous songs to this tune. This chorus is quoted 
 £rom a song, written, I believe, in Boston. 
 
 " Pho! pho ! fix up, a courting go, 
 To see the deacon's Sarah, 
 Who'll have a hundred pound, you know, 
 As soon as she does marry." 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fce. 
 
 Then Jonathan, in best array, 
 Mounted his dappled nag, sir ; 
 
 But trembled, sadly, all the way, 
 Lest he should get the bag, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 He mutter'd as he rode along, 
 
 Our Jotham overheard, sir, 
 And if 'twill jingle in my song, 
 
 Til tell you every word, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 " I wonder mother '11 make me go, 
 Since girls I am afraid of; 
 I never know'd, nor want to know, 
 What sort of stuff they're made of. 
 Yankee doodle, ifcc. 
 
 " A wife would make good housen" stuff. 
 If she were downright clever, 
 And Sal would suit me well enough, 
 If she would let me have her. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 " But then, I shan't know what to say,f 
 When we are left together, 
 I'd rather lie in stack of hay, 
 In coldest winter weather." 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 He reach'd the house, as people say, 
 IN ot far from eight o'clock, sir ; 
 
 And Joel hollow'd " in, I say," 
 As soon as he did knock, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, i&c. 
 
 He made of bows, 'twixt two and three. 
 Just as his mother taught him, 
 
 All which were droll enough to see : 
 You'd think the cramp had caught him. 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 At length came in the deacon's Sal 
 From milking at the barn, sir; 
 
 And faith she is as good a yal \ 
 As ever twisted yarn, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 For she knows all about affairs, 
 
 Can wash, and bake, and brew,§ sir, 
 Sing " Now I lay me," say her prayers, 
 
 And make a pudding too, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <Sre. 
 To Boston market she has been 
 
 On horse, and in a wagon, 
 And many pretty things has seen, 
 
 Which every one can't brag on. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 She's courted been, by many a lad, 
 And knows hmv sparking' s done, sir, 
 
 With Jonathan she was right glad, 
 To have a little fun, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fee. 
 
 * Uoitsen is a corruption for household. 
 
 t u A courting I went to my love, 
 
 Who is fairer than roses in May; 
 And when I got to her, by Jove, 
 The devil a word could I say." 
 
 See an old EnijlUh Comedy. 
 % Gal is, in New England, the vulgar pronunciation of 
 the word Girl. 
 
 § Most of the householders in New England have their 
 washing, baking, and brewing done within theirown precincts. 
 A young lady who does not understand these branches of 
 business is considered as not qualified for matrimony. 
 
598 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE. 
 
 The ladies all, as I should guess, 
 
 And many a lady's man, sir, 
 "Would wish to know about her dress ; 
 
 I'll tell them all I can, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 Her wrapper, grey, was not so bad, 
 Her apron eheck'd with blue, sir, 
 
 One stocking on one foot she had, 
 On t'other foot a shoe, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 Now, should a Boston lady read, 
 
 Of Sally's shoe and stocking, 
 She'd say a " monstrous slut, indeed, 
 
 Oh la! — she is quite shocking !" 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 You fine Miss Boston lady, gay, 
 For this your speech, 1 thank ye, 
 
 Call on me, when you come this way, 
 And take a drachm of Yankee* 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 Now Jonathan did scratch his head, 
 When first lie saw his dearest; 
 
 Got up — sat down — and nothing said, 
 But felt about the queerest, 
 
 Yankee doodle, &u. 
 
 Then talk'd with Sally's brother Joe 
 'Bout sheep, and cows, and oxen, 
 
 How wicked folks to church did go, 
 With dirty woollen flocks on. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <to. 
 
 And how a witch, in shape of owl, 
 Did steal her neighbour's geese, sir, 
 
 And turkies too, and other fowl, 
 When people did not please her. 
 
 Yankee doodle-, <fcc. 
 
 And how a man, one dismal night, 
 Shot her with silver bullet,-)-, 
 
 And then she flew straight out of sight, 
 As fast as she could pull it. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 How Widow Wunks was sick next day. 
 
 The parson went to view her, 
 And saw the very place, they say, 
 
 Where foresaid ball went through her ! 
 Yankee doodle, 4c. 
 
 And now the people went to bed : 
 They guess d for what he'd come, sir ; 
 
 But Jonathan was much afraid, 
 And wish'd himself at home, sir. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 At length, says Sal, " they're gone, you Gee, 
 
 And we are left together ;" 
 Say Jonathan, " indeed — they be — 
 
 'Tis mighty pleasant weather!" 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 Sal east a sheep's eye at the dunce, 
 Then turn'd towards the fire ; 
 
 He muster'd courage, all at once, 
 And hiteh'd a little nigher. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 Ye young men all, and lads so smart, 
 Who chance to read these vasscs,^ 
 
 * A glass of whiskey, mixed with molasses, is so called in 
 New England, and is a common beverage with the peasantry. 
 
 + There is a tale among the ghost-hunters in New England, 
 that silver bullets will be fatal to witches, when those of lead 
 would not avail. 
 
 $ Verses are thus pronounced by the rustics in New Eng- 
 laud. 
 
 His next address pray learn by heart, 
 To whisper to the lasses. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fcc. 
 
 " Miss Sal, I's going to say, as how, 
 We'll spark it here to-night, 
 I kind of love you, Sal, I vow, 
 And mother said 1 might." 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 Then Jonathan, as we are told, 
 Did even think to smack her ; 
 
 Sal cock'd her chin, and look'd so bold, 
 He did not dare attack her! 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 " Well done, my man, you've broke the ice, 
 
 • And that with little pother, 
 Now, Jonathan, take my advice, 
 
 And always mind your mother ! 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 " This courting is a kind of job 
 I always did admire, sir, 
 And these two brands, with one dry cob, 
 Will make a courting fire, sir." 
 
 Yankee doodle, ecu. 
 
 " Miss Sal, you are the very she, 
 If you will love me now, 
 That I will marry — then you 6ee, 
 You'll have our brindled cow. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 " Then we will live, both I and you, 
 In father's t'other room, 
 For that will sartain hold us two, 
 When we've mov'd out the loom. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &c. 
 
 " Next Sabbath-day we will be cried, 
 And have a ' taring' wedding, 
 And lads and hisses take a ride, 
 If it should be good sledding. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 " My father has a nice bull calf, 
 
 Which shall be your's, my sweet one; 
 'Twill weigh two hundred and a hah," 
 Says Sal, " well, that's a neat one." 
 Yankee doodle, tic. 
 
 " Your father's full of fun, d'ye see, 
 And faith, I likes his sporting, 
 To 6end his fav'rite calf to me, 
 His nice bull calf a courting." 
 
 Yankee doodle, <£e. 
 
 " Are you the lad who went to town, 
 Put on your streaked trowses,* 
 Then vow'd you could not see the town, 
 There were so many houses?" 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 Our lover hung his under lip, 
 
 He thought she meant to joke him ; 
 
 Like heartless hen that has the pip, 
 His courage all forsook him. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 For he to Boston town had been, 
 
 As matters here are stated ; 
 Came home and told what he had seen. 
 
 As Sally has related. 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 And now he wish'd he could retreat, 
 But dar'd not make a racket ; 
 
 It seem'd as if his heart would beat 
 The buttons off his jacket! 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fec. 
 
 * Vulgar pronunciation of the word trowsera. 
 
HOSEA BALLOU; ELIHU H. SMITH. 
 
 599 
 
 Sal ask'd him " if his heart was whole?" 
 
 His chin began to quiver ; 
 He saiil, lie felt so deuced droll, 
 
 He guess'd he'd lost his liver ! 
 
 Yankee doodle, &a. 
 
 Now Sal was scar'd out of her wits, 
 
 To see his trepidation, 
 She bawl'd " lie's going into fits," 
 
 And seamper'd like the nation! 
 
 Yankee doodle, &e. 
 
 A pail of water she did throw, 
 
 All on her trembling lover, ■ 
 Which wet the lad from top to toe, 
 
 Like drowned rat all over. 
 
 Yankee doodle, <fcc. 
 
 Then Jonathan straight hied him home, 
 And since I've heard him brag, sir, 
 
 That though the jade did wet him some, 
 He didn't get the bag, sir ! 
 
 Yankee doodle, keep it up, 
 
 Yankee doodle dandy, 
 Mind the music, mind the step, 
 
 And with the girls be handy I 
 
 HOSEA BALLOU. 
 
 Hosea, the youngest of the eleven children of the 
 Rev. Maturin Ballon, was born April 30, 1771, at 
 Richmond, New Hampshire. He was brought up 
 by his father, a Baptist clergyman, according to 
 the tenets of that sect, but received few of the 
 advantages of general education, there being no 
 school at his native village, and his time being so 
 fully occupied by the labors of the farm as to give 
 liim but few leisure moments for study. These 
 were, however, well improved, and other difficul- 
 ties arising from the meagreness of the family 
 means were also bravely mastered. He learned 
 to write by forming letters with a cinder on strips 
 of bark by the light of the fire; pen, paper, ink, 
 and candle-light being all too expensive luxuries 
 to be obtained. 
 
 At the age of nineteen he became connected 
 with his father's congregation, but soon after; 
 adopting the views of the Universalists, was ex- 
 pelled from membership. After some instruction 
 in ordinary English branches at the academy at 
 Chesterfield, New Hampshire, he commenced, 
 about the age of twenty, preaching as an itinerant. 
 The novelty of his views, and his ability as an ex- 
 tempore speaker, attracted great attention, and in 
 1794 he received an invitation to a permanent 
 congregation at Dana, Massachusetts. In 1796 
 he married, and five years later accepted a call to 
 Barnard, Vermont. He soon after, in 1804, pub- 
 lished Notes on the Parables, and a Treatise on 
 the Atonement, works in which he maintained the 
 doctrines he had adopted of the non-existence of 
 future punishment, limited or eternal, after death, 
 and of the non-e*istence of the Trinity. After 
 residing for six years at Barnard he removed to 
 Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where he remained 
 for the same period and then resided at Salem, 
 Massachusetts, Here he published a series of let- 
 ters addressed to Aimer Kneeland on the authen- 
 ticity of the Scriptures, On the fifteenth of De- 
 cember, 1817, he was installed a pastor of the 
 Second Universalis Society at Boston, a recently 
 formed association, who had erected a church for 
 
 his reception. In 1819 he commenced a weekly 
 journal, the Unieersalist Magazine, of which he- 
 remained editor for many years. Several of his 
 hymns appeared in its columns. In 1831 he also 
 commenced, with his nephew, the Rev. Hosea 
 Ballou, 2d, a leading clergyman of the same deno- 
 mination, a quarterly publication entitled the 
 Unwersalist Expositor* He edited this periodi- 
 cal for two years, and continued to contribute to 
 the pages of this and the first named journal until 
 his death — an event which occurred after an unin- 
 terrupted mini-try at Boston of thirty-five years, 
 on the seventh of June, 1852. In addition to the 
 works we have mentioned, Ballou published se- 
 veral collections of his sermons and treatises on 
 the doctrines he professed. A volume of his fu- 
 gitive verses consists mostly of hymns, many 
 of which are included in the Universalist collec- 
 tion, by Adams and Chapin.t Of these the fol- 
 lowing may be taken as a specimen. 
 
 BLESSINGS OF CHRIST'S UNIVERSAL REIGH. 
 
 When God descends with men to dwell, 
 And all creation makes anew, 
 - What tongue can half the wonders tell ? 
 What eye the dazzling glories view? 
 
 Zion, the desolate, again 
 
 Shall see her lands with roses bloom ; 
 And Carmel's mount, and Sharon's plain, 
 
 Shall yield their spices and perfume. 
 
 Celestial streams shall gently flow; 
 
 The wilderness shall joyful be; 
 Lilies on parched ground shall grow; 
 
 And gladness spring on every tree; 
 
 The weak be strong, the fearful bold, 
 
 The deaf shall hear, the dumb shall sing, 
 
 The lame shall walk, the blind behold; 
 And joy through all the earth shall ring 
 
 Monarchs and slaves shall meet in love ; 
 
 Old pride shall die, and meekness reign, — 
 When God descends from worlds above, 
 
 To dwell with men on earth again. 
 
 An edition of Ballou's collected writings has been 
 published. 
 
 The Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d, still edits the Uni- 
 versalist Quarterly Review, to which he has con- 
 tributed many valuable articles. He is also the 
 author of the Ancient History of Unhersalism, in 
 which he endeavors to trace that doctrine to the 
 time of the Primitive Church. 
 
 Moses, the son of Hosea Ballon, is the author of 
 77(6 Divine Character Vindicated, a reply to 
 Beecher's Conflict of Ages. Another brother is 
 the editor of Ballou's Pictorial, and the author of 
 several popular tales. Another member of the 
 same family, the Rev. Adin Ballou, is the author 
 of several pamphlets on the Peace movement, of 
 which he is a leading advocate. 
 
 ELIHU H. SMITH. 
 Eliitu Hubbard Smith was born at Litchfield, 
 Conn., Sept. 4, 1771. He was educated at Yale 
 College, and completed his course at so early an 
 
 * Now the Universalist Quarterly Review. 
 
 t Hymns for Christian Devotion; especially adapted to the 
 Universalist i enomination. By J. G. Adams and E. II. Cha- 
 pin. Boston: Abel Tompkins. 1&16. 
 
300 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 age that he was placed hy his father in charge 
 of Dr. Dwight, at Greenfield, to continue his lite- 
 rary studies, until sufficiently matured to com- 
 mence the study of medicine. This he prose- 
 cuted with his father, a physician of eminence, 
 and completed at Philadelphia, where he became 
 acquainted with Charles Brockden Brown. He 
 established himself in New York, keeping bache- 
 lor's hall with his friend William Johnson, the 
 lawyer, in genial and hospitable style, in a house 
 in Pine street, the bead-quarters of the Friendly 
 Club. He wrote a play, a number of sonnets and 
 essays for the magazines of the day, an operatic 
 version of the ballad of Edwin and Angelina, 
 played with indifferent success at the John Street 
 Theatre in 17M, and established in connexion 
 with his friends, Doctors Samuel L. Mitchill and 
 Edward Miller, a professional periodical entitled 
 the Medical Repository. 
 
 Elihu H. Smith. 
 
 In 1793 he edited the first collection ever made 
 of American poetry.* In 1798, during the hor- 
 rors of the yellow fever, he was unremitting in 
 the discharge of the duties of his profession. He 
 escaped the infection for a long time, but finally 
 fell a victim, under circumstances which do honor 
 to his humanity as well as intrepidity. A young 
 Italian, Joseph B. Scandella, who had during his 
 brief sojourn in America endeared himself to all 
 whose acquaintance he had formed, fell sick of the 
 fever, and was removed from the Tontine Coffee- 
 House by Smith to his own apartments. The 
 disease speedily proved fatal, not only to the pa- 
 tient but to the physician, who died Sept. 21, 
 1798. 
 
 Smith prefixed to the American edition of Dar- 
 win's Works an Epistle to the Author of the Bo- 
 tanic Garden, and also wrote an irregular poem, 
 somewhat after the manner of "Gray's Bard," 
 descriptive of Indian character and manners.t It 
 was never printed, and accidentally destroyed, 
 with the author's other manuscripts, after his 
 death. It was pronounced by a competent judge 
 to be the author's best production. 
 
 * Ante, p. 319, note. 
 
 t Everest's Poets of Connecticut, p. 1C6. 
 
 EPISTLE TO THE AUTHOR OF THE BOTANIC GAEOEN. 
 
 For unknown ages, 'mid his wild abode, 
 Speechless and rude the human savage trode; 
 By slow degrees expressive sounds acquired, 
 And simple thoughts in words uncouth attired. 
 As growing wants and varying climes arise, 
 Excite desire and animate surprise, 
 Gradual his mind a wider circuit ranged, 
 His manners softened, and his language changed; 
 And grey experience, wiser than of yore, 
 Bequeathed its strange traditionary lore. 
 
 Again long ages mark the flight of time, 
 And lingering toil evolves the Art divine. 
 Coarse drawings first the imperfect thought revealed; 
 Next, barbarous forms the mystic sense concealed ; 
 Capricious signs the meaning then disclose ; 
 And last, the infant alphabet arose ; 
 From Kilus' banks adventurous Caomus errs, 
 And on his Thebes the peerless boon confers. 
 
 Slow spread the sacred art, its use was slow : 
 Whate'er the improvements later times bestow, 
 Still how restrained, how circumscribed its power! 
 Years raise the fruit an instant may devour. 
 Fond Science wept; the uncertain toil she viewed, 
 And in the evil, half forgot the good. 
 What though the sage, and though the bard inspired, 
 By truth illumined, and by genius fired, 
 In high discourse the theme divine prolong, 
 And pour the glowing tide of lofty song ; 
 To princes limited, to PujTt's' sons, 
 Tyrants of mines and heritors of thrones, 
 The theme, the song, scarce touched the genei-oi 
 
 mind, 
 Lost or secluded from oppressed mankind. 
 Fond Science wept ; how vain her cares she saw, 
 Subject to fortune's ever-varying law. 
 Month after month a single transcript claimed, 
 The style perchance, perchance the story maimed : 
 The guides to truth corrupted or destroyed, 
 A passage fi isted, or a painful void, 
 The work of ignorance, or of fraud more bold, 
 To blast a rival, or a scheme uphold ; 
 Or in the progress of the long review, 
 Th' original perished as the copy grew ; 
 Or, perfect both, while pilgrim bands admire, 
 The instant prey of accidental fire. 
 Fond Science wept ; whate'er of costliest use, 
 The gift and glory of each favoring Muse ; 
 From every land what genius might select; 
 What wealth might purchase, and what power 
 
 protect ; 
 The guides of youth, the comforters of age; 
 Swept by the besom of barbaric rage, — 
 Scarce a few fragments scattered o'er the field 
 Frantic in one sad moment she beheld. 
 " Nor shall such toil my generous sons subdue ; 
 Nor waste like this again distress the view !" 
 She cries : — where Harlem's classic groves 
 Embowering rise, with silent flight she moves ; 
 She marks Laurentius carve the beet-hen rind, 
 And darts a new creation on his mind : 
 A sudden rapture thrills the conscious shades ; 
 The gift remains, the bounteous vision fades. 
 Homeward, entranced, the Belgic sire returns; 
 New hope inspires him and new- ardor burns; 
 Secret he meditates his art by day : 
 By night fair phantoms o'er his fancy stray; 
 With opening morn they rush upon his soul, 
 Nor cares nor duties banish nor control ; 
 Haunt his sequestered path, his social scene, 
 And in his prayers seductive intervene, 
 Till shaped to method, simple, and complete. 
 The filial ear the joyful tidings greet. 
 
STEPHEN ELLIOTT. 
 
 601 
 
 First, their nice hands the temper'd letter frame, 
 Alike in height, in width, in depth, the same; 
 Deep in the matrices secure infold, 
 And fix within, and justify, the mould; 
 The red amalgam from the cauldron take, 
 And flaming pour, and as they pour it, shake; 
 On the hard table spread the type congeal'd, 
 And smooth and polish on its marble field ; 
 While, as his busy fingers either plies, 
 The eiubrion parts of future volumes rise. 
 
 Next, with wise care, the slender plate they choose, 
 Of shining steel, and fit, with hardeu'd screws, 
 The shifting sliders, which the varying line 
 Break into parts, or yet as one confine ; 
 Whence, firmly bound, and fitted for the chase, 
 Imposed, it rests upon the stony base; 
 Tiff, hardly driven, the many figured quoins 
 Convert to forms the accumulated lines. 
 
 Then, with new toil, the upright frame they shape, 
 And strict connect it b3* the solid cap ; 
 The moving head still more the frame combines, 
 The guiding shelf its humbler tribute joins ; 
 While the stout winter erring change restrains, 
 And bears the carriage, and the press sustains : 
 The platen these, and spindle well connect, 
 Four slender bars support it, and direct, 
 As the high handle urging from above, 
 Downwards and forceful bids its pressure move. 
 Beneath, with plank the patent carriage spread, 
 Lifts the smooth marble on its novel bed, 
 Rides on its wheeled spit in rapid state, 
 Nor fears to meet the quick-descending weight. 
 
 Last, the wise sire the ready form supplies, 
 With cautious hands and scrutinizing eyes; 
 Fits the moist tgmpan (while the youth intent, 
 With patting balls, applies the sable paint), 
 Then lowers the frisket, turns the flying rounce, 
 And pulls amain the forceful bar at once ; 
 A second turn, a second pressure, gives, 
 And on the sheet the fair impression lives. 
 Raptured, the youth and reverend sire behold, 
 Press to their lips and to their bosoms fold; 
 Mingle their sighs, ecstatic tears descend, 
 And, face to face, in silent union blend: 
 Fond Science triumphs, and rejoicing Fame, 
 From pole to pole, resounds Laurentius' name. 
 
 Hence, doom'd no more to barbarous zeal a prey, 
 Genius and taste their treasured stores display ; 
 Nor lords, nor monks, alone, the sweets procure, 
 But old and young, the humble and the poor. 
 
 Hence, wide diffused, increasing knowledge flies, 
 And error's shades forsake the jaundiced eyes. 
 Man knows himself for man, and sees, elate, 
 The kinder promise of his future fate ; 
 Nations, ashamed, their ancient hate forego, 
 And find a brother, where they found a foe. 
 
 Hence, o'er the world (what else perchance con- 
 ceal'd, 
 Supprest for ages, or fore'er withheld. 
 To one small town, or shire, or state, confined, 
 In merit's spite to long neglect consigned, 
 The sport or victim of some envious flame, 
 Whence care nor art might rescue nor reclaim), 
 Flies the Botanic Song ; around 
 Successive nations catch the enchanting sound, 
 Glow as they listen, wonder as they gaze. 
 And pay the instructive page with boundless praise : 
 For not to Britain's parent isle alone, 
 Or what the East encircles with her zone, 
 The bounty flows, but spreads to neighboring realms, 
 
 And a new hemisphere with joy o'erwhclms. 
 
 Here, read witli rapture, studied with delight, 
 
 Long shall it charm the taste, the thought excite, 
 
 And youths and maids, the parent and the child, 
 
 Their minds illumined, and their griefs beguiled, 
 
 By all of fancj T , all of reason, moved, 
 
 Rise from the work invigor'd and improved. 
 
 Nor only here, nor only now, enjoy'd : 
 
 Where opes the interior desolate and void ; 
 
 Where Mississippi's turbid waters glide, 
 
 And white Missouri pours its rapid tide ; 
 
 Where vast Superior spreads its inland sea, 
 
 And the pale tribes near icy confines stray ; 
 
 " Where now Alaska lifts its forests rude, 
 
 And Nootka rolls her solitary flood ;"* 
 
 Where the fierce sun with ray severer rains 
 
 His floods of light o'er Amazonian plains; 
 
 Where, land of horrors I roam the giant brood 
 
 On the bleak margin of the antarctic flood; 
 
 In future years, in ages long to come — 
 
 When radiant justice finds again her home ; 
 
 Known, honor'd, studied, graced with nobler fame, 
 
 Its charms unfaded, and its worth tiie same, 
 
 To vaster schemes shall light the kindling view, 
 
 And lift to heights no earlier era knew, 
 
 Some ardent youth, some Fair whose beauties shine, 
 
 In mind, as person, only not divine ; — 
 
 In halls where Montezuma erst sat throned, 
 
 Whom thirty princes as their sovereign own'd, 
 
 In bowers where Manco labor'd for Peru, 
 
 While the white thread his blest Oella drew, — 
 
 Where Ataliba met a tyrant's rage, — 
 
 Entranced, shall ponder o'er the various page; 
 
 Or, where Oregon foams along the West, 
 
 And seeks the fond Pacific's tranquil breast; 
 
 With kindred spirit strike the sacred lyre, 
 
 And bid the nations listen and admire. 
 
 Hence keen incitement prompts the prying mind 
 By treacherous fears, nor palsied, nor confined ; 
 Ite curious search embrace the sea, and shore, 
 And mine and ocean, earth and air, explore. 
 
 Thus shall the years proceed — till growing time 
 Unfold the treasures of eacli differing clime ; 
 Till one vast brotherhood mankind unite 
 In equal bands of knowledge and of right. 
 Then the proud column, to the smiling skies, 
 In simple majesty sublime shall rise, 
 O'er Ignorance foil'd, their triumph loud proclaim, 
 And bear inscrib'd, immortal Darwin's name. 
 
 New York, March, 1798. ' 
 
 STEPHEN ELLIOTT 
 
 Was born at Beaufort, S. C, on the 11th Novem- 
 ber, 1771. He was the son of William Elliott, 
 married to Miss Mary Barnwell in 1760. The 
 father died wliile Stephen was a child, but his 
 elder brother William took good care of his edu- 
 cation. After the preliminary studies he entered 
 Yale College in the sixteenth year of his age, 
 and graduated in 1791. He then delivered an 
 English Oration on " the Supposed Degeneracy of 
 Animated Nature," and took one of the highest 
 honors in his class. Among his college com- 
 panions were Chancellor Jones, Samuel Miles 
 Hopkins of New York, and Judge Gould of Litch- 
 field, Conn. 
 
 * This couplet is from an unpublished poem of my friend, 
 Mr. Eicliard Alsop; a poet who. Were his ambition equal to 
 his. talents, would appear amoug the poets of his time velui 
 
 inter iynes Itmu miuores. 
 
602 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1796 Stephen Elliott married Miss Esther 
 Habersham, of Georgia, and was elected a dele- 
 
 gate to the State Legislature, in which he con- 
 tinued to serve until the establishment of the 
 " Bank of the State" in 1812, of which he was 
 elected President. He then removed with his 
 family to Charleston. All his leisure hours had 
 for many years been devoted to literary pursuits, 
 to natural science, and to botany in particular. 
 Mr. Elliott was here considered the leader in all 
 associations for their advancement. He was the 
 founder of the Literary and Philosophical Society 
 in 1813, and commenced it by inviting to his own 
 house, at stated periods, such gentlemen as were 
 most likely to concur in this his favorite object. 
 In 1814 he delivered the first Anniversary Ad- 
 dress to that institution, remarkable alike for its 
 elegance of diction, and the capacity of his mind, 
 which could embrace such various pursuits of 
 science. His object was not only to explain their 
 relations to each other as branches of literature, 
 but to encourage the members to add zeal to 
 knowledge, and perseverance to enterprise. He 
 took the lead in what he recommended, and de- 
 livered a course of lectures on botany gratuitously, 
 to a large class of ladies and gentlemen. He like- 
 wise, in conjunction with Hugh S. Legare, be- 
 came editor of the " Southern Review," and him- 
 self wrote ten of its articles, viz., in No. 1 on 
 Napoleon Bonaparte. In No. 2 on the Constitu- 
 tion of the United States. In No. 3, three papers, 
 on Irving'a Columbus, Travels in Russia, and Na- 
 poleon Bonaparte. In No. 4 the Views of Nature, 
 and Internal Improvement. In No. 5 Walsh's 
 Narrative. In No. 6 the Manufacture of Sugar. 
 In No. 7 Education in German}-. In No. 8 Cuba, 
 and Classification of Plants. In No. 10 Bour- 
 'rienne's Memoirs. 
 
 Mr. Elliott was one of the earlie-t and warmest 
 advoca.es for the establishment of the Medical 
 College in 1S25, and was elected one of the 
 Faculty, and Professor of Natund History and 
 Botany. His most elaborate and valuable work, 
 his Botany of South Carolina and Georgia, was 
 compiled and published in the midst of these 
 laborious engagements, financial and scientific; the 
 first volume appeared in the year 1821, and the 
 second in 1821.* This accumulation of business, 
 mental and bodily, was too great for him to sus- 
 
 * In the preparation of this work on Botany. Elliott was 
 gTeatly agisted by Dr. James M'Bride, particularly in the 
 notices of the medicinal properties of many indigenous plants. 
 M'Bride was a native of South Carolina, born in the Williams- 
 burg District. April 17. 17S4. Left an oiphan at an early aire, 
 and with hnmble means, he devoted himself earnestly to his 
 college studies at Yale, at a time when Bishop Giadsden, 
 Grinike. and Calhoun were his companions there, economizing 
 his resources by his superior industry in pa- sirg rapidly through 
 the college studies. His love of natural science led him to the 
 study of medicine, which he pursued with the same ardor and 
 economy of time and money. He settled as a physician in 
 Pineville, S. C. aDd communicated artie'es on the botany of the 
 region to the scientific and medical societies of the day. He 
 died young, September 21. 1S17. from fatisrue and exposure 
 in his efforts to alleviate the yellow fever of that year at 
 Charleston. 
 
 tain; he died suddenly in 1830, struck down by 
 apoplexy. 
 
 Mr. Elliott has left a family emulous in good 
 works. Among them, his oldest son, the Rt. Rev. 
 Stephen Elliott, is the Bishop of Georgia; his 
 youngest, James H. Elliott, is the favorite assist- 
 ant minister of St. Michael's, Charleston; and his 
 daughter is the wife of Bishop Boone, the dis- 
 tinguished head of the China Mission. 
 
 CHAEXES CALDWELL, 
 
 A physician of Philadelphia, whose career may 
 be traced with interest through the pages of his 
 autobiography, was a writer of industry and 
 ability, and of original powers of reflection. He 
 was the son of an Irish lieutenant, who, on his 
 emigration to America, settled in Delaware, and 
 6ubsei|uently removed to North Carolina, and 
 established himself " in a region which but a 
 short time previously had been the home of the 
 savage, whose haunts and hunting grounds were 
 still but a short distance remote from it, in 
 Orange, now Caswell County, on Moon's Creek, 
 a small branch of Dan River, about twenty miles 
 south of the southern border of Virginia." There 
 our author was born, May 14, 1772. His early 
 education in that ill-furnished district was picked 
 up more by his own sagacity and perseverance, 
 than through the assistance of others. In his 
 boyhood he assisted in building a small log-bonse 
 near his father's crowded home, that he might 
 have an opportunity of studying by himself. His 
 father removing to the southern portion of the 
 State, he there fell in with better opportunities 
 of instruction, being taught by an estimable 
 schoolmaster named Harris, "who subsequently 
 became Tutor in the College of New Jersey, and 
 of whose eccentric appearance Caldwell has left 
 an account in his autobiography. With some 
 slight additional preparation at an "academy," 
 the latter became himself a teacher, taking charge 
 at first of the Snow Creek Seminary, " situated 
 on a stream of that name, not far from the foot 
 of the Bushy Mountains in North Carolina," and 
 afterwards of the Centre Institute in the same 
 State. Still pursuing his own studies, his taste was 
 directed to topics of scientific study by meeting 
 with Samuel Stanhope Smith's Essay on the 
 Variety of Color in the Human Race, to the 
 positions of which he became thus early an an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 In the choice of a profession, after meditating 
 the Presbyterian pulpit and the law, he chose 
 medicine, and pursued the study for a time with 
 the inefficient aid of a practitioner at Salisbury, 
 in his native state. In 1792 he arrived at Phila- 
 delphia, and engaged witK the medical classes of 
 the University, which at that time were sustained 
 by Shippen and Wistar in Anatomy and Surgery, 
 and Rush in the Institutes of Medicine. He en- 
 gaged with ardor in the study, aud enjoyed the 
 personal friendship of Rush aud others, while 
 he devoted himself assiduously to his profession 
 during the arduous yellow fever season of 1793. 
 On the breaking out of the Whiskey Insurrection, 
 he received the appointment of surgeon to a 
 brigade, and proceeded with the forces to the 
 neighborhood of Pittsburgh, when the difficulty 
 was declared to be terminated, aud the troops 
 
CHARLES CALDWELL. 
 
 603 
 
 retired. In the military banquet which followed, 
 the management of the affair was assigned to 
 Caldwell, whose address on the occasion drew 
 forth a liberal compliment from Hamilton. 
 
 In 1795, he commenced his literary career by 
 translating Blumenbach's Elements of Physiology 
 from the Latin, followed within a few years by a 
 number of medical treatises, on the Epidemic of 
 the city, the vitality of the blood, physiognomy, 
 quarantine?, and other subjects of a speculative 
 and practical character. \ In 1814-, he became the 
 editor of the Port Folio, succeeding Nicholas Bid- 
 die in the management of the work, to winch he 
 gave new efficiency by his ready pen and activity 
 of mind, covering a great variety of subjects and 
 securing immediate succes j by the introduction of 
 original material relating to the conduct and 
 heroes of the war with England, which had then 
 just commenced. He secured the last by his inti- 
 macy and correspondence with the officers. " So 
 earnest and determined," he tells us, " was Gene- 
 ral Brown in the scheme, that he asserted, in one 
 of his letters, that ho reported himself and order- 
 ed his officers to report themselves, in their con- 
 nexion with all interesting events of the army, as 
 regularly to the editor of the Port Folio as they 
 did to him, or as he did to the Secretary of War.' - 
 The articles in the Port Folio by Caldwell were 
 chiefly biographical, or reviews of the prominent 
 books of poetry of the day. In 1816, at the sug- 
 gestion of Dr. Chapman, he edited Cnllen's Prac- 
 tice of Physic, and the same year wrote most of 
 the biography in Delaplaine's Repository. He 
 was also at this time professor of Natural History 
 in the University of Pennsylvania. In 1819, he 
 published his Life and Campaigns of General 
 Greene, the most important in extent of his bio- 
 graphical studies. In 1819, he removed to Ken- 
 tucky, to take charge of a medical department in 
 the Transylvania University at Lexington. His 
 place was that of the Institutes of Medicine and 
 Clinical Practice. Besides the immediate duties 
 of instruction, Dr. Caldwell had to interest the 
 state legislature in the school, and create a pres- 
 tige for Western medical education throughout 
 that whole region. He succeeded in securing 
 funds from the state, and by his journeys a fa- 
 vorable public opinion towards the enterprise. 
 In 1820, be set out on an eight months' tour to 
 Europe, for the purpose of purchasing books and 
 materials for the institution. His notices of the 
 celebrities of London and Paris on this tour 
 sketched in his autobiography, include among 
 others Sir Astley Cooper, Abernethy whose oddi- 
 ty he fairly mastered by his decision and self- 
 possession, Mrs. Somerville whose remarkable 
 attainments put the doctor's universality to a test . 
 in a conversation running over criticism and the 
 sciences. 
 
 After eighteen years' devotion to the Transyl- 
 vania University, rinding a new site for the school 
 desirable and the trustees offering to make a 
 change of locality which had been contemplated, 
 he withdrew from that institution in 1837 to es- 
 tablish in the neighboring city the " Louisville 
 Medical Institute." He encountered the labors of 
 this new enterprise with resolution, procuring 
 funds and securing professors. After six years' 
 devotion to this arduous work, difficulties aro-e 
 between Dr. Caldwell and the trustees, and in 
 
 1849, when he was on the eve of closing his con- 
 nexion with the institute, he was removed by the 
 Board. The remainder of his life was passed in 
 retirement at Louisville till his death at that place 
 July 9, 1853. He occupied himself during these 
 la ;t years with the composition of his Au'ohiogra- 
 phy, which was published in 1855, with a brief con- 
 clusion by the editress, Harriot W. Warner. It 
 affords abundant indication of the abilities of the 
 man, and of the sources of opposition which he 
 frequently encountered. Of bold, vigorous pow- 
 ers, his egotism and self-assertion appear constant- 
 ly on the alert. The activity and energy of his 
 mind are remarkable; but a certain uneasiness of 
 temper lessens the force of bis abilities. The 
 style of the autobiography is diffuse and impeded 
 by cumbrous expressions; while it contains much 
 written with strength and insight which will con- 
 tinue to be of interest, both for the idiosyncrasy of 
 tlu author and the important people with whom he 
 was brought into relation. The closing chapter 
 enumerating the author's " published writings 
 and translations" from 1794 to 1851, embraces a 
 catalogue of more than two hundred items, in- 
 cluding magazine articles and pamphlets, but 
 many large works as well. Among the latter, in 
 addition to those which we have noticed, may be 
 mentioned a volume of Memoirs of the lieu. Dr. 
 Eornce Holly ; B ichtiir Jfauteh, or the Boyd 
 Foundling, a Persian Story, translated from the 
 Arabic ; and various publications of medical and 
 physical memoirs, growing out of his advocacy of 
 Phrenology, with which he was greatly identified, 
 and his more immediate professional pursuits. 
 
 SKETCH OF THE REV. JAMES HALL, OF NORTH CAROLINA.* 
 
 An early acquaintance, of whom it is peculiarly 
 pleasing to me to speak (though lie was advanced in 
 years when I was but a boy), was the Rev. James Hall, 
 D.D., of Iredell County. In piety he was peculiarly 
 signalized; and his aspect was more vegetable and 
 apostolic than that of any other man I have ever 
 beheld. His intellect was also of a high order, espe- 
 cially in mathematics, astronomy, and mechanics ; 
 and, in the power and majesty of pulpit eloquence, 
 he had no superior. 
 
 In mathematical and astronomical science he gave 
 me my earliest and most instructive lessons. And 
 lie was certainly one of the first, if not himself the 
 very first constructor of a steamboat. And the inven- 
 tion was original with him, not derivative. I wit- 
 nessed myself the movement of his first model (a 
 structure five or six feet long), over a small pond 
 on his own plantation. But he was too deeply en- 
 grossed by his clerical labours to pursue his inven- 
 tion to any useful effect. 
 
 I have said that Dr. Hall was a man of great and 
 moving pulpit eloquence. Of the truth of this, the 
 following occurrence gives ample proof: — 
 
 On a sacramental occasion, in Poplar-tent congre- 
 gation, in Cabarrus County, the assemblage of people 
 was far too great to be contained in the meeting- 
 house. The time being summer, suitable arrange- 
 ments were made, and the multitude were seated 
 beneath the shade of a dense forest of ancient oaks; 
 and Dr. Hall addressed them from a temporary 
 stage erected for the purpose. In the course of his 
 sermon, which, from beginning to end, was bold and 
 fervent, he took occasion to liken the condition of a 
 heedless and reckless sinner to that of a wild and 
 
 * From tile Autobiography. 
 
604 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE. 
 
 unthinking youth, crossing, in a slight batteau, a 
 deep and rapid river, a short distance above a lofty 
 and frightful waterfall. 
 
 On each bank of the stream were members of the 
 famity and friends of the young man eyeing, in wild 
 distraction and horror, the perils of his situation, 
 and loudly calling to him, in screams of terror, to 
 ply his oars and press for the shore. But he either 
 hears them not, or disregards their supplication ; 
 and in perfect negligence and apparent security, 
 giving only with his oars an occasional stroke, gazes 
 on the beauties of the landscape around him, the 
 azure of the heavens, the birds disporting in air 
 above him, his faithful, but terrified dog, crouching 
 by his side, and looking him affectionately and im- 
 ploringly in the face ; he gazes, in fact, upon every- 
 thing visible, except the waterfall, near to him, and 
 the gulf beneath it, towards which, with fearful 
 power and rapidity, the current is sweeping him. 
 But, suddenly, at length awakened from his revery, 
 he hears the distracted and piercing calls of his 
 friends, sees their bent bodies and extended arms, as 
 if outstretched to save him ; beholds the cataract, 
 over whose awful brink he is impending, and, horror- 
 stricken at the sight, starting up and convulsively 
 reaching out his wide-spread hands, as if imploring 
 a rescue, and uttering an unearthly shriek of 
 despair, is headlong plunged and swallowed up in 
 the boiling gulf that awaits him. 
 
 So completely had the words of the orator ar- 
 rested and enthralled the minds of his audience, so 
 vivid and engrossing was the scene he had pictured 
 to their imaginations, and so perfectly, for his pur- 
 pose, had he converted fiction into reality, that, 
 when he brought his victim to shoot the cataract, a 
 scream was uttered by several women, two or three 
 were stricken down by their emotion, and a large 
 portion of the assembled multitude made an involun- 
 tary start, as if, by instinct, impelled to an effort to 
 redeem the lost one, and restore him to his friends. 
 
 Never did I, in any other instance, except one, 
 witness an effort of oratory so powerful and bewitch- 
 ing ; and, in that one, I myself was materially con- 
 cerned, and in it a two-fold source of influence was 
 employed — impassioned eloquence and scenic show. 
 It occurred very many years ago, in the Chestnut 
 Street Theatre, in Philadelphia, during the perform- 
 ance of "Alexander the Great." The " Rival 
 Queens" were personated ; Statira, by Mrs. Wignel, 
 afterwards, by another marriage, Sirs. Warren, and 
 Roxana by Mrs. Whitlock, the sister of Mrs. Siddon3. 
 In the murder scene, so completely successful were 
 those two accomplished actresses, that, in my fasci- 
 nated view of the matter, playful fiction had given 
 place to vindictive reabty, and, when Roxana drew 
 her glittering dagger, preparatory to the murderous 
 act she meditated, I (being seated in the stage-box) 
 sprang to my feet, and would have disarmed her in 
 a moment, had I not been prevented by a gentleman 
 in the box. "Whether any person but myself now 
 remembers the event, I know not; but its effect at 
 that time was memorable and ludicrous. It drew 
 from pit, box, and gallery, directed towards myself, 
 a round or two of hearty laughter and applause, and 
 utterly spoiled the after part of the play, by chang- 
 ing it from tragedy into comedy or farce. 
 
 Still further to evince the versatility and value of 
 the powers, both bodily and mental, of the Rev. Br. 
 Hall, at the most unpromising period of our revo- 
 lutionary war, in the South, when thick clouds were 
 gathering on the horizon of freedom, when the hopes 
 of the most sanguine and the hearts of the bravest 
 seemed ready to fail, and every service of every 
 patriot was called for in the contest — at that period 
 of gloom and incipient despondency, the equally 
 
 brave and venerable Hall, to the sword of the Spirit, 
 which he had long and successfully wielded, added 
 that of the secular arm, by soliciting and readily 
 obtaining, on two conditions, proposed by himself, a 
 captaincy in a regiment of volunteer dragoons, to 
 continue in service for at least a year, unless sooner 
 disbanded by the termination of the war. And the 
 conditions were, that his company should be raised 
 by himself, and that he should act as chaplain, with- 
 out pay, to the regiment to which he might belong. 
 Whether he received pav as captain I do not remem- 
 ber, but believe he did not. 
 
 On these terms, he was soon at the head of a full 
 and noble-looking company, on his march to the seat 
 of war, where, as often as a suitable opportunity 
 presented itself, lie never failed to distinguish him- 
 self by his gallantry and firmness. An excellent 
 rider, personally almost Herculean, possessed of a 
 very long and flexible arm, and taking, as he did, 
 daily lessons from a skilful teacher of the art, he be- 
 came, in a short time, one of the best swordsmen in 
 the cavalry of the South. Beii g found, moreover, 
 to be as judicious in council as he was formidable in 
 action, he received the sobriquet of the Ulysses of 
 his regiment. 
 
 On the capture of Lord Cornwallis, believing the 
 war to be on the verge of its termination, and per- 
 suaded that he could now more effectually serve his 
 country in a civil than in a military capacity, hav- 
 ing declined the acceptance of a proffered majority 
 in a regiment of select cavalry about to be formed, 
 he resigned his commission, and returned to the 
 duties of the clerical profession. 
 
 It was long after this that I became, for a time, 
 his private pupil in mathematics and astronomy. 
 And, notwithstanding his previous stern and for- 
 midable qualities as a soldier, he was now one of the 
 mildest and meekest of men. After a Iap>se of more, 
 perhaps, than twenty years from the period of my 
 pupillage under him, I saw him for the last time, in 
 the city of Philadelphia, as a delegate to the General 
 Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, and had the 
 high gratification of affording him relief from a 
 troublesome complaint, produced by fatigue and 
 exposure in travelling. 
 
 From the superior size of his person, the form and 
 grandeur of his head and countenance, the snowy 
 whiteness of his hair, of but little of which he had 
 been shorn by the hand of time, and from the sur- 
 passing venerableness of his whole appearance, he 
 was by far the most attractive and admired person- 
 age in the reverend body of which be was a mem- 
 ber. He was instinctively regarded, by all who 
 beheld him, as the rightful Nestor and ornament of 
 the Assembly. He died, not long afterward, at the 
 advanced age of about ninety years, bequeathing to 
 posterity a reputation rarely equalled, and never, 
 as I verily believe, surpassed, in moral rectitude, 
 pure, fervent, and practical piety, and usefulness in 
 the wide sphere of his diversified labors in the 
 Christian ministry, by any individual our country 
 has produced. 
 
 "WILLIAM CLIFFTON, 
 
 Ax author of fine poetical powers, among the 
 early writers of the country, was a native of 
 Philadelphia, born in 1772. He was of a Quaker 
 family, and his father was a wealthy mechanic. 
 The constitution of the son was delicate, with a 
 tendency to consumption, which excited the early 
 exercise of his faculties. At the age of nineteen, 
 the rupture of a blood-vessel led to his abandon- 
 ment of any notions he may have entertained of 
 active life ; when he found consolation and em- 
 
WILLIAM CLIFFTON. 
 
 G05 
 
 ployment in literature. His tastes soon led him 
 to relinquish the Quaker dress, and he became a 
 proficient in the accomplishments of music and 
 drawing. He was also especially fond of field 
 sports. When Jay's treaty brought out much un- 
 worthy opposition to the government, Oliffton 
 exercised his pen in support of the administra- 
 tion in satires, published in the newspapers, in 
 prose and verse on the demagogues. The longest 
 of these satirical productions was entitled The 
 Group, in which various mechanics and trades- 
 men, Solon Verges a carpenter, Nat Fnttoek a 
 shipwright, Gobbo Finis a coffin-maker, John 
 Stripe a schoolmaster, with others, are repre- 
 sented as meeting for discussion on topics beyond 
 their reach, respecting politics and the state. 
 The coarse and vulgar material of low Jacobinism, 
 which is not at all disguised in the poem, is oc- 
 casionally elevated by the polish of the author's 
 verses. This is the melancholy conclusion — 
 
 The hour is hastening, when on equal feet, 
 Exalted Virtue, and low Vice shall meet ; 
 When Envy, Faction, Indolence shall rage, 
 In one wild tempest, thro' the troubled age; 
 Then human dignity shall meet its doom ; 
 Devotion perish, Reason, Worth, a tomb, 
 In the rude wastes of Ignorance, shall find, 
 And true Equality shall bless mankind. 
 So when the Kamsin of the Desert flies 
 'Twixt ardent sands, and summer kindled skies. 
 The gasping trav'ler meets the arid death, 
 And, prostrate in the dust, resigns his breath. 
 Then shall no pedant priest, with learned pride, 
 Point out the sacred volume for our guide ; 
 No more the civil law, or moral page, 
 The arm shall fetter, or the soul encage ; 
 But pile on pile the File of Arts shall raise, 
 And all the knowledge of all ages blaze. 
 As when the gothic conflagration hurl'd, 
 Its smoky volumes round the sleeping world : 
 The Fiend of Ruin, with demoniac yell, 
 Flits round the flame, directs the work of hell, 
 With sheets of sulphur wing- the driving gale, 
 And shakes destruction from his dragon tnil. 
 Yet, not as then : the once extinguished ray 
 Shall ne'er resuscitate another day; 
 Here, Science, thy last stage of being lies, 
 No other Phoenix from thy dust shall rise, 
 And no sad vestige shall remain to tell. 
 The temple's basis, where thoulov'dst to dwell. 
 
 •Mi 
 
 ttJiCueff7S,SC 
 
 William Cliffton. 
 
 .1 Rhapsody on the Times in Hudihrastic mea- 
 
 sure, and the unfinished poem the Chimeriad, 
 give vent to similar complaints. The humor of 
 opposition to France, and the cry of war, are 
 carried to an extreme. Cliffton was member of 
 an association called the Anchor Club, which is 
 described in the preface to his poems, as com- 
 bining social purposes with the object of " pro- 
 ducing a disposition in the public mind towards 
 war with France." A paper in both prose and 
 verse, which he read to this circle, is one of the best 
 of his satirical effusions. It appears in the volume 
 of the poems: — Some Account of a Manuscript 
 found among the papers of a French Emigrant 
 in London, entitled TalleyramVs Descent into 
 Hell. The arch French intriguer, in imitation of 
 Ulysses and other heroes of antiquity, visits the 
 infernal regions. His initiatory interview with 
 Charou is thus described — 
 
 With what species of " diplomatic skill " Talley- 
 rand prevailed on Charon to ferry him over the 
 sable waters, is not known ; for, where the letters 
 again begin to brighten into form, we find the Mi- 
 nister and Cerberus about to commence a negotia- 
 tion. This part seems so charmingly managed by 
 the poet (for here he is a poet), that we shall tran- 
 scribe it for the amusement of our readers. 
 
 The triple monster from his hellish bed, 
 Rous'd as he heard the limping hero's tread, 
 Rush'd to his kennel door, to take his stand, 
 Shook his three heads, and growl'd this stern de- 
 mand: 
 Whence and what art thou, execrable fool ? 
 What boatman brought thee o'er the Stygian pool? 
 Where is thy passport? where thy golden bough ? 
 What climate breeds such crooked things as thou ?• 
 
 To these interrogations Talleyrand could not listen 
 without emotion ; lie felt the blood withdraw itself 
 from his extremities, and flow all cold aud curling 
 into the very centre of his heart. Some time elapsed 
 before the work retrieved its locomotive faculty ; 
 but at length the petrifaction began to dissolve, and 
 his tongue was again loosened from its fear-bound 
 captivity. His " diplomatic skill," that powerful 
 charm which had unnerved so many nations, he had 
 taken care to bear about him, and now, when perils 
 crowded on him, he began to shake it up for use. He 
 thus addressed the Porter of Hell : — 
 
 Ah ! Cerberus, I love thee from my heart; 
 So kind and gentle in thy way thou art! 
 How meek thy mien, and musical thy voice 1 
 Thy tail 'tis true — but then a tail's thy choice. 
 It kills my heart to see a beast so brave, 
 Witli many heads, and every one a slave. 
 When shall I see your lady-bitch, good now? 
 (The breed's a most prodigious breed I vow ; 
 And e'er to t'other world I journey up, 
 Methinks I'll ask the devil for a pup. 
 In " peace and safety" might my masters snore 
 With such a dog to guard their palace door) — aside. 
 
 He is treated to a painful view of the acts of 
 his revolutionary coadjutors, after which he is 
 carried to the scenes of Elysium, where we are 
 presented with tins pleasing picture of old France 
 under its beloved monarchical rule. 
 
 The time has been, ere scribbling knaves began 
 To claim more rights than God designed for man; 
 To teach mankind that passion never strays; 
 That human nature's just in all her waj'S; 
 That Christian laws are ludicrously nice, 
 And sweet, oh ! sweet's the downy bed of vice ; — 
 Ere convict thieves, at their own fate amazed, 
 
606 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Were from the gallows to the pulpit raised ; 
 
 Ere, in the face of guilt-annoying day, 
 
 The mother play'd to show her child the way ; 
 
 Ere the son pluck'd the hoary father's beard, 
 
 Ere beggars reign'd, and beggars' trulls were fear'd; 
 
 While Paris, yet, could plead her virtuous ten, 
 
 And prayers sincere were mutter'd now and then; 
 
 The time has been, that gave the rustic throng, 
 
 Their evening ballet, and their morning sot.g, 
 
 E'en Paris, then, her harmless joys could boast; 
 
 Who was most upright, then, was honor'd most ; 
 
 And no vile blush our grateful cheeks o'erspread 
 
 To ask a blessing on our monarch's head. 
 
 In those good days it was not strange to bend, 
 
 With cordial friendship, o'er a bleeding friend; 
 
 To see a foe in cureless anguish lay, 
 
 And smooth'd his pillow as he passed away. 
 
 Then, want was furnish'd with the means to live, 
 
 For men had hearts to feel, and hands to give ; 
 
 Then wealth dispensed what happiness it could, 
 
 To taste the luxury of doing good ; 
 
 Then beauty wept at sympathy's command, 
 
 And love was then no stranger in the land. 
 
 Tell me, false Autun, what lias France obtaiii'd 
 
 In lieu of these; what great advantage gaiu'd. 
 
 With all your new illumination fired. 
 
 With licence bless'd, with sacrilege inspired ; 
 
 With venerable piles in ruin laid. 
 
 By village tales the wood god's dwellings made ; 
 
 With all the hamlet's sweet delights o'erthrown ; 
 
 With flocks undone, and pious pastors flown ; 
 
 With knaves carousing where the poor were fed, 
 
 With every gen'rotis, social virtue dead ; 
 
 Witli all these blessings added to your store, — 
 
 Say, are you better, happier than before ? 
 
 When Gifford's " B.iviad and Mseviad" was re- 
 published in Philadelphia, Cliifton contributed a 
 prefatory poetical epistle to the author, which 
 opens with his complaint — 
 
 In these coll shades, beneath these shifting skies, 
 Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies. 
 
 His death occurred in December, 1799, in the 
 twenty-seventh year of his age. His poems were 
 collected in a volume, published in New York the 
 following year.* 
 
 These " occasional poems" display the poetic 
 culture of the scholar, and an original fancy 
 which had marked out a path for itself, which it 
 is to be regretted was closed by so early a dis- 
 solution. 
 
 EPISTLE TO W. GIFFOKD, E8Q. 
 Written at the request of Mr. Cobbett, and prefixed to his 
 edition of that genUematCe elegant poem, " T/tejSaviad and 
 Maviad" 
 
 In the-e cold shades, beneath these shifting skies, 
 Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies; 
 
 * Poems, chiefly occasional, by the late Mr. Cliffton. To 
 wiiicli aie prefixed, Introductory Notices of the Lite. Charac- 
 ter, and Writings of tlie Author, and an Engraved Likeness. 
 
 Quis desiderio sit pudor ant modus 
 Tarn car] capitis? Precipe lugubrca 
 Cautus, Melpomene, cui iiquidam pater 
 
 Vocem cum Cithara dedit. 
 Ergo Qnintilinm perpetuus sopor 
 Urget? cui Pudor, et Justitia* soror 
 Incorrupta Fides, uudaque Veritas 
 
 Quando ullum invenient parem ? 
 Mujtis ille bonis flebilis oocidit ? 
 Null! flcbilior qnam tibi, Virgili. 
 Durum : sed levins tit patientia 
 
 Quicqnid corrigere est nefas. 
 
 New York : Printed for J. W. Fenno, by G. and E. Waite. 
 1800. 
 
 Where few and feeble are the Muse's strains, 
 And no fine frenzy riots in the veins, 
 There still are found a few to whom belong 
 The fire of virtue and the soul of song ; 
 Whose kindling ardour still can wake the strings 
 When learning triumphs, and when Gilford sings. 
 To thee the lowliest bard his tribute pays, 
 His little wild-flower to thy wreath conveys; 
 Pleas'd, if permitted round thy name to bloom, 
 To boast one effort resc.ed from the tomb. 
 
 While this delirious age enchanted seems 
 With hectic fancy desultory dreams ; 
 While wearing fast away is every trace 
 Of Grecian vigour, and of Roman grace, 
 With fond delight, we yet one bard behold, 
 As Horace polish'd, and as Persius bold, 
 Reclaim the art, assert the muse divine, 
 And drive obtrusive dulness from the shrine. 
 Since that great day which saw the tablet rise, 
 A thinking block, and whisper to the eyes, 
 No time lias been that touch'd the muse so near, 
 No age when learning had so much to fear, 
 As now, when love-lorn ladies light verse frame, 
 And every rebus-weaver talks of fame. 
 
 When truth in classic majesty appenr'd, 
 And Greece, on high, the dome of science rear'd, 
 Patience and perseverance, care and pain 
 Alone the steep, the rough ascent could gain : 
 None but the great the sun-clad summit sound ; 
 The weak were baffled, and the strong were erown'd. 
 The tardy transcript's high-wrought page confin'd 
 To one pursuit the undivided mind. 
 No venal critic fatten'd on the trade, 
 Books for delight, and not for sale were made; 
 Then shone, superior, in the realms of thought, 
 The chief who govern'd, and the sage who taught. 
 The drama then with deathless buj-s was wreath'd, 
 The statue quicken'd, and the canvass bieath'd. 
 The poet, then, with unresisted art, 
 Sway'd every impulse of the captive heart, 
 Touch'd with a beam of heaven's creative mind, 
 His spirit kindled, and his taste refin'd ; 
 Incessant toil inform'd his rising youth ; 
 Thought grew to thought, and truth attracted truth, 
 Till, all complete, his perfect soul di- play'd 
 Some bloom of genius which could never fade. 
 So the sage oak, to nature's mandate true, 
 Advauc'd but slow, and strengllien'd as it grew I 
 But when at lei gih (full many a season o'er), 
 Its virile head, in pride, aloft it bore ; 
 When steadfast were its roots, and sound its heart, 
 It bade defiance to the insect's art, 
 And, storm and time resisting, still remains 
 The never dying glory of the plains. . 
 
 Then, if some thoughtless Bavins dared appear, 
 Short was his date, and limited his spheie ; 
 He could but please the changeling mob a day, 
 Then, like his noxious labours pass away ; 
 So near a forest tall, some worthless flower, 
 Enjoys the triumph of its gaudy hour, 
 Scatters its little poison thro' the skies, 
 Then droops its empty, hated head, and dies. 
 
 Still, as from fam'd Ilyssus' classic shore, 
 To Mincius' banks, the muse her laurel bore, 
 The sacred plant to hands divine was given, 
 And deathless ilaro nursed the boon of heaven. 
 Exalted bard ! to hear thy gentler voice, 
 The vallies listen, and their swains rejoice; 
 But when, on some wild mountain's awful form, 
 We hear thy spirit chaunting to the storm, 
 Of battling chiefs, and armies laid in gore, 
 We rage, we sigh, we wonder and adore. 
 Thus Rome, with Greece, in rival splendour shone, 
 
WILLIAM CLIFFTON. 
 
 607 
 
 But claimed immortal satire for her own ; 
 While Horace piere'J, full oft, the wanton breast 
 With sportive censure, and resistless jest ; 
 And that Etrurian, whose indignant lay 
 Thy kindred genius can so well display, 
 With many a well aim'd thought, and pointed line, 
 Drove the bold villain from his black design. 
 For, as those mighty masters of the lyre, 
 With temper'd dignity, or quenchless ire, 
 Through all the various paths of science trod, 
 Their school was Nature, a:id their teacher God. 
 Nor did the muse decline till, o'er her head. 
 The savage tempest of the north was spread ; 
 Till ai'm'd with desolation's bolt it came, 
 And wrapp'd her temple in funereal flame. 
 
 But soon the arts, once more, a dawn diffuse, 
 And Dante hail'd it with his morning muse; 
 Petrarch and Boccace join'd the choral lay, 
 And Arno glisteu'd with returning day. 
 Thus science rose; and all her troubles past: 
 She hop'd a steady, tranquil reign at last; 
 But Fanstus came (indulge the painful thought) ; 
 Were not his countless volumes dearly bought? 
 For, while to every clime and class they flew, 
 Their worth diminish'd and their numbers grew. 
 Some pressman, rich in Homer's glowing page, 
 Could give ten epics to one wondering age ; 
 A single thought supplied the great design, 
 And clouds of Iliads spread from every line. 
 Nor Homer's glowing page, nor Virgil's fire. 
 Could one lone breast, with equal flame, inspire, 
 But lost in books, irregular and wild, 
 Then poet wonder'd, and the critic smil'd: 
 The friendly smile, a bulkier work repays; 
 For fools will print, while greater fools will praise. 
 
 Tonch'd with the mania, now, what millions rage 
 To shine the laureat blockheads of the age. 
 The dire contagion creeps thro' every grade, 
 Girls, coxcombs, peers, and patriots drive the trade : 
 And e'en the hind, his fruitful fields forgot, 
 For rhyme and misery leave his wife and cot. 
 Ere, to his breast, the watchful mischief spread, 
 Conte it and plenty eheer'd his little shed' 
 And while no thoughts of state perplex'd his mind, 
 His harvests ripening, and Pastora kind, 
 He laugh'd at toil, with health and vigour bless'd; 
 For davs of labor brought their nights of rest: 
 But now in rags, ambitious for a name, 
 The fool of faction, and the dupe of fame, 
 His conscience haunts him with his guilty life, 
 His starving children, and his ruin'd wife. 
 Thus swarming wits, of all materials made. 
 Their Gothic hands on social quiet, laid, 
 And, as they rave, unmindful of the storm, 
 Call lust refinement, anarchy reform. 
 
 No love to foster, no dear friend to wrong, 
 Wild as the mountain flood, they drive along, 
 Anil sweep, remorseless, every social bloom 
 To the dark level of an endless tomb. 
 
 By arms nssail'd, we still can arms oppose, 
 And rescue learning from her brutal foes ; 
 But when those foes to friendship make pretence, 
 And tempt the judgment with the baits of sense, 
 Carouse with passion, laugh at God's controul, 
 And sack the little empire of the soul, 
 What warning voice can save ? Alas ! 'tis o'er, 
 The age of virtue will return no more ; 
 The doating world, its manly vigor flown. 
 Wanders in mind, and dreams on folly's throne. 
 Come then, sweet bard, again the cause defend, 
 Be still the muses' and religion's friend ; 
 Again the banner of thy wrath display, 
 
 And save the world from Darwin's tinsel lay, 
 A soul like thine no listless pause should know ; 
 Truth bids thee strike, and virtue guides the blow. 
 From every conquest still more dreadful come, 
 Till dulness fly, and folly's self be dumb. 
 Philadelphia, May 13, 1799. 
 
 TO A ROCTN. 
 
 From winter so dreary and long, 
 
 Escap'd, ah ! how welcome the day, 
 Sweet Bob with his innocent song, 
 
 Is return'd to his favourite spray. 
 When the voice of the tempest was heard, 
 
 As o'er the bleak mountain it pass'd, 
 He hied to the thicket, poor bird I 
 
 And shrank from the pitiless blast. 
 By the maid of the valley survey'd, 
 
 Did she melt at thy comfortless lot? 
 Her hand, was it stretcli'd to thy aid, 
 
 As thou pick'dst at the door of her cot? 
 She did ; and the wintry wind, 
 
 May it howl not around her green grove; 
 Be a bosom so gentle and kind, 
 
 Only fann'd by the breathings of love. 
 She did ; and the kiss of her swain, 
 
 With rapture, the deed shall requite, 
 That gave to my window again, 
 
 Poor Bob and his song of delight. 
 
 TO FANCY. 
 
 Airy traveller, Queen of Song, 
 Sweetest Fancy, ever young, 
 I to thee my soul resign ; 
 All my future life be thine : 
 Rich or beggar'd, chaiu'd or free, 
 Let me live and laugh with thee. 
 
 ' Pride perhaps may knock, and say, 
 " Rise thou slugg ird, come away :" 
 But can he thy joy impart, 
 Will he crown my leaping heart? 
 If I banish hence thy smile, 
 Will he make it worth my while ? 
 
 Is my lonely pittance past, 
 Fleeting good too light to last, 
 Lifts my friend the latch no more, 
 Fancy, thou canst all restore ; 
 Thou canst, with thy airy shell, 
 To a palace raise my cell. 
 
 At night while stretch'd on lowly bed, 
 When tyrant tempest shakes my shed, 
 And pipes aloud; how bless'd am I, 
 All cheerii g nymph, if thou art by, 
 If thou art by to snatch my soul 
 Where billows rage and thunders roll. 
 From cloud, o'er-peering mountain's brow 
 We'll mark the mighty coil below, 
 While round us innocently play 
 The light'ning's flash, and meteor's ray. 
 And, all so sad, some spectre form, 
 Is heard to moan amid the storm. 
 With thee to guide my steps I'll creep 
 In some old haunted nook to sleep, 
 Lull'd by the dreary night-bird's scream, 
 That flits along the wizard stream, 
 And there, till morning 'gins appear, 
 The tales of troubled spirits hear. 
 
 Sweet's the dawn's ambiguous light, 
 Quiet pause 'tween day and night, 
 When, afar, the mellow horn, 
 Chides the tardy gdted morn, 
 And asleep is yet the gale 
 On sea-beat mount, and rivcr'd vale. 
 
608 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 But the morn, tho' sweet and fair, 
 Sweeter is when thou art there; 
 Hymning stars successive fade, 
 Fairies hurtle thro' the shade, 
 Love-lorn flowers I weeping see, 
 If the scene is touch'd by thee. 
 
 When unclouded shines the day, 
 When my spirits dance and play, 
 To some sunny bank we'll go, 
 "Where the fairest roses blow, 
 And in gamesome vein prepare 
 Chaplets for thy spangled hair. 
 
 Thus through life with thee 111 glide, 
 Happy still whate'er betide, 
 And while plodding sots complain, 
 Of ceaseless toil and slender gain, 
 Every passing hour shall be 
 Worth a golden age to me. 
 
 Then lead on, delightful power, 
 Lead, oh! lead me to thy bower: 
 I to thee my soul resign, 
 All my future life be thine. 
 Rich or beggar'd, chain'd or free, 
 Let me live and laugh with thee. 
 
 IL PENSEEOSO. 
 
 I hate this spungy world, with all its 6tore, 
 Tliis bustling, noisy, nothingness of life, 
 
 This treacherous herd of friends with hollow core, 
 This vale of sorrow, and this field of strife. 
 
 Me, shall some little tranquil thatch receive, 
 Some settled low content, remote from care, 
 
 There will I pipe away the sober eve, 
 
 And laugh all day at Lady Fortune there. 
 
 Why should I mingle in the mazy ring, 
 Of drunken folly at the shrine of chance? 
 
 Where insect pleasure flits on burnished wing, 
 Eludes our wishes, and keeps up the dance. 
 
 When in the quiet of an humble home, 
 Beside the fountain, or upon the hill, 
 
 Where strife and care and sorrow never come, 
 I may be free and happy, if I will. 
 
 BONG. 
 
 Boy, shut to the door, and bid trouble begone, 
 If sorrow approach, turn the key, 
 Our comfort this night from the glass shall be drawn, 
 And mirth our companion shall be. 
 
 Who would not with pleasure the moments prolong. 
 When tempted with Friendship, Love, Wine, and a 
 Song. 
 
 What art thou, kind power, that soft'nest me so, 
 That kindlest this love-boding sigh, 
 'that bid'st with affection, mv bosom o'erflow, 
 And send'st the fond tear to my eye. 
 
 I know thee ! for ever thy visit prolong, 
 
 Sweet spirit of Friendship. Love, Wine, and a Song. 
 
 See the joy-waking influence rapidly fly, 
 And spirit with spirit entwine, 
 The effulgence of rapture enamels each eye, 
 Each soul rides triumphant like mine. 
 
 On a sea of good humour floats gayly along, 
 Surrounded with Friendship, Love, Wine, and a 
 Song. 
 
 And now to the regions of Fancy we soar, 
 Thro' scenes of enchantment we stray, 
 We revel in transports untasted before, 
 Or loiter with love on the way. 
 
 Resolv'd like good fellows the time to prolong, 
 That cheers us with Friendship, Love, Wine, and 
 Song. 
 
 For Friendship, the solace of mortals below, 
 In the thicket of life, loves a rose, 
 Good wine can content on misfortune bestow, 
 And a song's not amiss I suppose. 
 
 Then fill, my good fellows, the moment prolong, 
 With a bumper to Friendship, Love, Wine, and 
 Song. 
 
 A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 
 
 For lonely shades, and rustic bed, 
 
 Let philosophic spirits sigh ; 
 I ask no melancholy shed, 
 
 No hermit's dreary cave, not L 
 
 But where, to skirt some pleasant vale, 
 Ascends the rude uncultur'd hill, 
 
 Where 'midst its cliffs to every gale, 
 Young echo mocks the passing rill : 
 
 Where spring thro' every merry year, 
 Delighted trips her earliest round ; 
 
 Sees all her varied tints appear, 
 And all her fragrant soul abound. 
 
 There let my little villa rise, 
 
 In beauty's simple plumage drest, 
 
 And greet with songs the morning skies, 
 Sweet bird of art, in nature's nest ! 
 
 Descending there, on golden wing, 
 Shall fancy, with her bounties roam ; 
 
 And every laurell'd art shall bring 
 An offering fair to deck my home. 
 
 Green beds of moss, in dusky cells, 
 
 When twilight sleeps from year to year. 
 
 And fringed plats, where Flora dwells, 
 With the wild wood shall neighbour near. 
 
 The fairies thro' my walks shall roam, 
 And sylphs inhabit every tree; 
 
 Come Ariel, subtlest spirit, come, 
 I'll find a blossom there for thee. 
 
 Extended wide, the diverse scene. 
 My happy casement shall command, 
 
 The busy farm, the pasture green, 
 
 And tufts where shelter'd hamlets stand. 
 
 Some dingle oft shall court my eye 
 To dance among the flow'rets there, 
 
 And here a lucid lake shall lie, 
 Eniboss'd with many an islet fair. 
 
 From crag to crag, with devious sweep, 
 Some frantic flood shall headlong go, 
 
 And, bursting o'er the dizzy steep, 
 Shall slumber in the lake below. 
 
 In breezy isles and forests near, 
 
 The sylvaus oft their haunts shall leave, 
 
 And oft the torrent pause to hear, 
 The lake-nymph's song, at silent eve. 
 
 There shall the moon with half-shut eye, 
 Delirious, hear her vocal beam, 
 
 To fingering sounds, responsive sigh, 
 And bless the hermit's midnight dream. 
 
 No magic weed nor poison fell, 
 
 Shall tremble there ; nor drug uncouth. 
 
 To round the mutt' ring wizard's spell, 
 Or bathe with death the serpent's tooth. 
 
 No crusted ditch nor festering fen, 
 
 With plagues shall teem, a deadly brood 
 
 No monster leave his nightly den 
 To lap the 'wilder'd pilgrim's blood. 
 
WILLIAM RAY; JOSIAH QUINCY. 
 
 609 
 
 But on the rose's dewy brink, 
 
 Each prismy tear shall catch the gleam, 
 
 And give the infant buds to drink, 
 The colours of the morning beam. 
 
 The waters sweet, from whispering wells, 
 Shall loiter 'neath the flowery brake; 
 
 Shall visit oft the Naiads' cells, 
 And hie them to the silver lake. 
 
 The muse shall hail, at peep of dawn, 
 
 Melodiously, the coming day ; 
 At eve her song shall soothe the lawn, 
 
 And with the mountain echoes play. 
 
 There spring shall laugh at winter's frown, 
 There summer blush for gamesome spring, 
 
 And autumn, prauk'd in wheaten crown, 
 His stores to hungry winter bring. 
 
 Tis mine ! 'tis mine ! this sacred grove, 
 Where truth and beauty may recline, 
 
 The sweet resort of many a love ; 
 Monimia come and make it thine. 
 
 For thee, the bursting buds are ripe, 
 The whistling robin calls thee here, 
 
 To thee complains the woodland pipe ; 
 Will not my lov'd Monimia hear ? 
 
 A fawn I'll bring thee, gentle maid, 
 To gamble round thy pleasant door ; 
 
 I'll cull thee wreaths that ne'er shall fade, 
 What shall 1 say to tempt thee more ? 
 
 The blush that warms thy maiden cheek, 
 Thy morning eye's sequester'd tear, 
 
 For me, thy kindling passion speak, 
 And chain this subtle vision here. 
 
 Spots of delight, and many a day 
 Of summer love for me shall shine ; 
 
 In truth my beating heart is gay, 
 At sight of that fond smile of thine. 
 
 Come, come my love away with me, 
 The morn of life is hast'ning by, 
 
 To this dear scene we'll gaily flee, 
 And sport us 'neath the peaceful sky. 
 
 And when that awful day shall rise, 
 
 That sees thy cheek with age grow pale, 
 
 And the soul fading in thine eyes, 
 
 We'll sigh and quit the weeping vale. 
 
 WILLIAM EAT. 
 
 William Rat, one of the "Algerine Captives," 
 was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, about 1772. 
 His father was a fanner in moderate circum- 
 stances, and removing soon after his son's birth to 
 a then unsettled part of the state of New York, 
 the latter had few advantages of early education. 
 After experimenting as a schoolmaster and coun- 
 try shopkeeper, and getting married, having lost, 
 by arriving too late at Philadelphia, what lie calls 
 "a flattering prospect of finding a situation as an 
 editor, at thirty dollars a month," he shipped, July 
 3, 1803, "in a low capacity" on board the U. S. 
 frigate Philadelphia, Captain Bainbridge. On 
 the 31st of October the vessel ran aground off 
 Tripoli, was attacked by a single gun-boat, and 
 struck her colors. The next morning the ship 
 was afloat, but her officers and crew were ashore 
 as prisoners. They were treated with great se- 
 verity, badly fed and lodged, and set to work in 
 December at raising an old wreck buried in the 
 sand, which they had to shovel from under her 
 and carry in baskets to the shore, working almost 
 naked with the water up to their armpits. They 
 vol. i. — 39 
 
 had afterwards, in March, to drag a heavy wagon 
 " five or six miles into the country over the burn- 
 ing sands, barefoot and shirtless, and back again 
 loaded with timber, before they had anything to 
 eat, except perhaps a few raw carrots." They 
 were imprisoned until June 3, 1805, when articles 
 of peace were signed and the prisoners shipped 
 for home the next day. Ray was made captain's 
 clerk of the Essex, and laureate for the next fourth 
 of July, when the following song by him "was 
 sung at table by consul Lear, and encored three 
 or four times." 
 
 Hail Independence ! hail once morel 
 To meet thee on a foreign shore, 
 
 Our hearts and souls rejoice ; 
 To see thy sons assembled here, 
 Thy name is rendered doubly dear — 
 
 More charming is thy voice. 
 
 A host of heroes bright with fame, 
 A Preble and Decatur's name, 
 
 Our grateful songs demand; 
 And let our voices loudly rise, 
 At Eaton's daring enterprise, 
 
 And red victorious hand. 
 
 That recreant horde of barb'rous foe.!, 
 Our deathless heroes bled t' oppose, 
 
 Can never stand the test, 
 When grappled with our dauntless tars. 
 Their crescent wanes beside our stars, 
 
 And quickly sinks to reft. 
 
 Thy spirit, born in darkest times, 
 Illumes the world's remotest climes, 
 
 Where'er thy champions tread 
 
 Like lightning flash'd on Barb'ry's plains — 
 Dissolv'd the groaning captive's chains, 
 
 And struck the oppressor dead. 
 
 Hail Independence ! glorious day, 
 Which chased the clouds of night away. 
 
 That o'er our country hung ; 
 Re-tune the voice, and let us hear 
 The song encore — a louder cheer 
 
 Resound from every tongue. 
 
 Huzza! may freedom's banners wave, 
 Those banners that have freed the slave 
 
 With new all-conqu'ring charms; 
 Till nature's works in death shall rest 
 And never may the Tar be press' d 
 
 But in his fair ones arms. 
 
 The Essex, after a cruise in the Mediterranean, 
 reached home August, 1806. Her poet published 
 an account of his adventures a few months after. 
 He served in the militia at Plattsburg in 1812, 
 and after several removes settled down with his 
 family in the village of Onondaga Court-House. 
 In 1821 he published at Auburn a small volume 
 of " Poems on various subjects, religious, moral, 
 sentimental, and humorous," with a sketch of his 
 life. 
 
 JOSIAH QUINCY. 
 The will of Josiah Quincy, Jr., contained the fol- 
 lowing bequest: "I give to my son, when he 
 shall arrive to the age of fifteen years, Algernon 
 Sidney's works, John Locke's works, Lord Bacon's 
 works, Gordon's Tacitus, and Cato's Letters. 
 May the spirit of liberty rest upon him!" The 
 son has entered upon the full fruition and has 
 made good use of this legacy. His long life has 
 been devoted to the dissemination of knowledge, 
 
610 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 to the instruction of others in the good doctrines 
 those pood hooks have taught, while the " spirit of 
 liberty" now rests like a sunset halo on that aged 
 head. "Whenever we read of an assemblage in 
 his native city, convened by the rallying call of 
 liberty, we find a portion of its record earnest 
 words, which he has come forth from his retire- 
 ment to utter. Even those who differ from him 
 widely in opinion, as in domicile, must, or should, 
 respect the energy and good intent of the old 
 statesman and scholar. 
 
 Z7ZUZ/LJL 
 
 C>i--4st<f11 
 
 '1*0 
 
 Josiah Quincy was born in 1772, prepared for 
 college at the Phillips Academy in Andover, and 
 graduated at Harvard in 1790. His Commence- 
 ment oration was on the " Ideal Superiority of the 
 present age in Literature and Politics." He studied 
 law with the Hon. Judge Tudor, and in 1797 
 married Eliza, daughter of John Morton, a mer- 
 chant of New York. In 1804 he was elected to 
 the State Senate, and in 1805 to Congress, where 
 he remained until 1813. He was warmly opposed 
 to the purchase of Louisiana, and prophesied • a 
 dissolution of the Union as the result of an en- 
 largement of the Confederacy beyond its limits at 
 the time of the formation of the Constitution, 
 ne was also an opponent of the Embargo. One 
 of his speeches on this topic contains an eloquent 
 though somewhat ornate passage. 
 
 They who introduced it abjured it. They who 
 advocated it did not wish, and scarcely knew, its 
 use. And now that it is said to be extended over us, 
 r.o man in this nation, who values his reputation, 
 will take his Bible oath that it is in effectual and 
 legal operation. There is an old riddle, on a coffin, 
 (said Mr. Quincy,) which I presume we all learnt 
 when we were boys, that is as perfect a representa- 
 tion of the origin, progress, and present state of this 
 thing called non-intercourse, as is possible to be 
 conceived: 
 
 There was a man bespoke a thine-. 
 Which, when the maker home did bring, 
 That same maker did refuse it, — 
 The man that spoke for it did not use it, — 
 And he who had it did not know 
 Whether he had it, yea or DO. 
 
 True it is, that if this non-intercourse shall ever be, 
 in reality, subtended over us, the similitude will fail, 
 in a material point. The poor tenant of the coffin 
 is ignorant of his state. But the poor people of the 
 United States will be literally buried alive in non- 
 intercourse, and realize the grave closing on them- 
 selves and their hopes, with a full and cruel con- 
 sciousness of all the horrors of their condition. 
 
 His speech on the influence of government pa- 
 tronage, delivered January 1, 1811, attracted 
 much attention. "It ought," said John Quincy 
 Adams, " to be hung up in every office of every 
 office-holder in the Union." He describes the 
 office hunters. 
 
 Let now, one of your great office-holders — a col- 
 lector of the customs, a marshal, a commissioner of 
 loans, a post-master in one of your cities, or any of- 
 ficer, agent, or factor, for your territories, or public 
 
 lanc|s, or person holding a place of minor distinction, 
 but of considerable profit — be called upon to pay the 
 last great debt of nature, 'the \ oor man shall hardly 
 , be dead, — he shall not be cold, — long before the 
 corpse is in the coffin, the mail shall be crowded to 
 ! repletion with letters, certificates, recommendations, 
 and representations, and every species of sturdy, 
 sycophantic solicitation, by which obtrusive men- 
 dicity seeks charity or invites compassion: Why, 
 sir, we hear the clamor of the craving animals at the 
 treasury -trough here in this capitol. Such running, 
 such jostling, such wriggling, such clambering over 
 I one another's backs, such squealing because the tub 
 I is so narrow and the company so crowded! No, sir; 
 \ let us not talk of stoical apathy towards the things 
 ; of the national treasury either in this people, or in 
 the representatives, or senators. 
 
 ****■**•*.»# 
 
 Without meaning, in this place, to cast any par- 
 ticular reflections upon this, or upon any other 
 executive, this I will say, that if r.o additional 
 guards are provided, and now, after the spirit of 
 party has brought into so full activity the spirit of 
 ; patronage, there never will be a president of these 
 United states, elected by means now in use, who, if 
 he deals honestly with himself, will not be able, on 
 quitting, to address his presidential chair as John 
 Falstaff addressed Prince Hal: "Before I knew thee 
 I knew nothii g, and now I am but little better than 
 one of the wicked." The possession of that station, 
 | under the reign of party, will make a man so ac- 
 quainte 1 with the corrupt principles of human con- 
 duct, — he will behold our nature in s'o hu: gry, and 
 | shiverii g, and craving a state, and be compelled so 
 i constantly to observe the solid rewards daily de- 
 | manded by way of compensation for outrageous pa- 
 triotism, — that, if he escape out of that atmosphere 
 without partaking of its corruption, he must be below 
 or above the ordinary condition of mortal nature. 
 Is it possible, sir, that he should remain altogether 
 uninfected ? 
 
 Mr. Quincy was an opponent of the war of 
 1812, and soon after his election to the Senate of 
 his state, June, 1813, gave a decided proof of his 
 opposition by offering the following preamble and 
 resolution in reference to the gallant conduct of 
 Captain Lawrence in the destruction of the Bri- 
 tish ship of war Peacock by the sloop Hornet. 
 
 Whereas, It has been found that former resolu- 
 tions of this kind, passed on similar occasions, relative 
 to other officers engaged in similar service, have 
 given great discontent to manv T of the good people 
 of this commonwealth, it beii g considered by them 
 I as an encouragement and excitement to the eounte- 
 ; nance of the present unjust, unnecessary, and ini- 
 i quitous war; and, on this account, the Senate of 
 i Massachusetts have deemed it their duty to refrain 
 | from acting on the said proposition. And whereas, 
 ] this detetunnation of the Senate may, without ex- 
 planation, be misconstrued into an intentional slight 
 of Capt. Lawrence, and a denial of his particular 
 merits, the Senate therefore deem it their duty to 
 declare that they have a high sense of the naval skill 
 and military and civil virtues of Capt. James Law- 
 rence; and they have been withheld from acting on 
 said pi-oposition solely from considerations relative 
 to the nature and principle of the present war : and, 
 to the end that all misapprehension on this subject 
 may be obviated, Resolved, as the sense of the Senate 
 of Massachusetts, that, in a war like the present, 
 waged without justifiable cause, and prosecuted in a 
 manner which indicates that conquest and ambition 
 are its real motives, it is not becoming a moral and 
 religious people to express any approbation of mili- 
 
JOHN LATHEOP. 
 
 611 
 
 tary or naval exploits which are not immediately 
 connected with the defence of our sea-coast and soil. 
 
 Both were afterwards, January 23, 1824, by a 
 vote of the body expunged from its records. 
 
 Mr. Qui i icy remained in the Senate until 1821, 
 and in 1822-3 was a member of the House. In 
 1822 he was appointed Judge of the Municipal 
 Court, but resigned the office on his election as 
 Mayor of Boston in 1823. He held the office 
 until he declined a re-election in December, 1828. 
 The House of Industry, the House for the Refor- 
 mation of Juvenile Offenders, the admirable mar- 
 ket-house which bears his name, the efficient Fire 
 Department of the city, and numerous important 
 streets and avenues, are some of the monuments 
 o' his vigorous administration. He was to be 
 seen throughout his mayoralty traversing the 
 streets and lanes at daybreak on horseback, per- 
 sonally inspecting their condition, and in every 
 ot'ier department of duty was equally active. 
 
 In January, 182!), Mr. Quincy, to use his own 
 expression, was called from the "dust and clamor 
 of the capitol" to the presidency of Harvard Uni- 
 versity. He was as much surprised at the a] >point- 
 meiit, he said, "as if he had received a call to the 
 pastoral charge of the Old South Church." He 
 delivered his inaugural address in Latin on the 
 second of June, and retained the office until his 
 resignation in 1845, his academic rule being 
 marked by the same zeal and prosperity which 
 had attended his civic sway. During its course 
 debts were paid, endowments secured, buildings 
 renovated, and the general, efficiency of the an- 
 cient institution largely promoted. 
 
 Since his retirement from Harvard Mr. Quincy 
 lias not held any public office. He is often, how- 
 ever, called upon to preside at assemblages of his 
 fellow-citizens, and is always ready to lend the 
 great influence which a long life of honorable 
 public service has added to the ancestral honors 
 of his name in the furtherance of measures which 
 lie deems of national benefit. He is often present 
 on occasions of public festivity, enjoying a well 
 deserved reputation as an after dinner speaker and 
 wit. One of bis happy epigrams is recorded in 
 the diary of the Rev. Joseph S. Buckminster. 
 
 President Nott preached in Brattle Street Church ; 
 the fullest audience ever known Iherc, except on or- 
 dination-day. Epigram made on by Josiali Quincy. 
 
 Delight and instruction have people, I wot, 
 "Who iu seeing nut see, and iu hearing hear not. 
 
 At a dinner given soon after the completion of 
 the Quincy market, Judge Story gave the toast, 
 "May the fame of our honored Mayor prove as 
 durable as the material of which the beautiful 
 market-house is constructed." Quincy instantly 
 responded, "That stupendous monument of the 
 wisdom of our forefathers, the Supreme Court of 
 the United States; In the event of a vacancy may 
 it be raised one Story higher." The same distin- 
 guished name was used iu a still happier maimer 
 at a Phi Beta Kappa dinner, after the institution 
 of the Story Association, when Mr. Quincy pro- 
 posed "The Members of the Bar; Let them rise 
 as high as they may they can never rise higher 
 than one Story." He once remarked of his college, 
 "May it, like the royal mail packets, distribute 
 good letters over our laud." 
 
 When Wirt visited Boston in 1829 he was re- 
 ceived by Quincy, who, in the course of conver- 
 sation, asked him in which college he had gradu- 
 ated. Wirt in a letter at the time tells the 
 sequel. " I was obliged to admit that I had never 
 been a student of any college. A shade of em- 
 barrassment, scarcely perceptible, just flitted across 
 his countenance ; but he recovered in an instant, 
 and added most gracefully, ' upon my word you 
 furnish a very strong argument against the utility 
 of a college education.' Was not this neatly said, 
 and very much in the style of Bishop Madison?"* 
 
 Mr. Quincy, in addition to bis other public ser- 
 vices, is the author of several important volumes. 
 His Memoir of Jo.-iah Quincy, Jr., published in 
 1825, we have already had occasion to express our 
 obligations to in writing an account of that dis- 
 tinguished patriot. It is an admirable monument 
 of filial reverence. His History of Harvard^ 
 has rendered a similar service to our article on 
 that University. His Centennial Address on the 
 Two Hundredth Anniversary of the Settlement 
 of Boston, 1830, and History of the Boston Athe- 
 ■na'urn, with Biographical Notites of its devoted 
 Founders.X are equally valuable contributions to 
 civic and literary history .§ 
 
 JOHN LATHEOP, 
 Trra son of a minister at Boston, of the same 
 name, || was born in that city in January, 1772 ; 
 was a graduate of Harvard in 1783 ; studied law 
 iu the office of Christopher Gore ; commenced 
 the practice of the profession, and in 1797 re- 
 moved to Dedhain. The society of Fisher Ames 
 and the appointment of clerk of Norfolk county 
 did not long retain him there. He returned to 
 Boston, and lived among the wits, Robert Treat 
 Paine, Jr., Charles Prentiss,1T and others, con- 
 
 * Kennedy's Memoirs of Wirt, ii. 275. 
 
 t Cambridge, 1841). 
 
 t Cambridge, 1SB1. 
 
 § Loring's Hundred TSoston Orators, pp. 25S-278. 
 I John Lathrnp, 174.'-1816, was born in Norwich, Ct; 
 studied at Princeton ; assisted Wheelock in his Indian school, 
 at Lebanon; was ordained and became pastor of the Second 
 Church in Boston. He published a number of ordination aud 
 occasional discourses, amongst others an Historical Discourse 
 at the commencement of the Nineteenth Century, which aro 
 enumerated bv Allen. .Joseph Lathrop, another divine of the 
 family, 1781-1821, was also born at Norwich ; studied at Taio, 
 anil was pastor of the church in West Springfield, Mass. His 
 ministerial life extended over sixty-three years. His pub- 
 lished sermons form a large collection, a portion of which were 
 issued in seven volumes; one of them, a posthumous publi- 
 cation, containing his Autobiography, "a production," says 
 Allen, " remarkable for its simplicity and candor.' 1 
 
 ^ Buckingham, in his Newspaper Reminiscences, has traced 
 the career of Prentiss through a series of journals with which 
 he was conmc cd. lie was born in 1774, the son of the P.ev. 
 Caleb Prentiss, minister of Beading, Mass.; studied at Har- 
 vard, and upon leaving college, edited, in 1795, the Rural Re- 
 pository, at Leominster, Mass.. a weekly paper of a literary 
 character, and "short lived." One of his sportive effusions iu 
 tins journal was a ''will" in verse, written in emulation of a 
 similar college production of the wit Biglow. The humor 
 turns upon ii custom of Harvard, of the transmission of a jack- 
 knife from the uttliest member of one senior class to the ugli- 
 est member of tiie next. The verses may be found in Buck- 
 ingham, ii. 209. A Collection of Fugitive Essays, in. Prose 
 and Verse, was published bv Prentiss at Leominster, in 1797 
 —a pleasant volume. Whe'n the Repository expired. Prentiss 
 published The Political Fa.:u>i at the same, place; afterwards, 
 The Washington Federalist, at Georgetown, D.C. ; the Anti- 
 Democrat at' Baltimore, and in the same city a literary paper, 
 The Child of Pallas. This was at the beginning of the cen- 
 tury. In 1S04 he visited England. In 1809 he published Tits 
 Thistle, a theatrical paper of a brief existence. After 1810 he re- 
 ported the Congressional proceedings at Washington, and edited 
 the Independent American. In 1818, a Life or General Eaton 
 from his pen was published at Brooktield. In 1817 and 1818 he 
 edited the Virginia Patriot, at Richmond. He died in Brim- 
 
612 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 tributing, with them, to the Federal Boston Ga- 
 zette. Samuel L. Knapp, who was subsequently 
 connected with that journal, and who has fur- 
 nished a genial account of Lathrop, says, that a 
 difference of taste led to an encounter between 
 ■ the young authors : — " Lathrop was modest, 
 learned, and poetical, but had much less of the 
 ardor of genius and the sparkling of wit than 
 Paine, but more chastity of style and more me- 
 thod in his compositions and conversations. Pren- 
 tiss was easy, familiar, good-natured, and poeti- 
 cal, and amused himself at the parade of learn- 
 ing in Paine, and laughed at the sentimental so- 
 lemnity of Lathrop." Such contests might en- 
 liven the Boston newspapers, but they would not 
 assist to wealth and eminence at the bar. Dis- 
 couraged in this field, Lathrop, in 1799, embarked 
 to try his fortunes in British India, where he 
 established a school at Calcutta. Knapp relates 
 a proposition which he made to the government 
 there, and its reception. " In the ardor of his 
 zeal for instructing the rising generation of Cal- 
 cutta, he presented to the Governor-General, the 
 Marquis of Wellesley, a plan of an institution at 
 which the youths of India might receive an edu- 
 cation, without going to England for that pur- 
 pose. In an interview with his lordship, Lathrop 
 urged, with great fervency and eloquence, the 
 advantages that he believed would flow from a 
 seminary well endowed and properly patronized 
 by the government, on such a plan as he recom- 
 mended ; but his lordship opposed the plan, and 
 in his decided and vehement manner replied : ' No, 
 no, sir, India is and ever ought to be a colonj* of 
 Great Britain'; the seeds of independence must 
 not be sown here. Establishing a seminary in 
 New England at so early a period of time has- 
 tened your revolution half a century.' " Besides 
 his occupations as a teacher, Lathrop wrote for 
 the Calcutta papers the Hircnrrah and the Post, 
 but he found the newspaper system under the 
 government censorship as restricted as the edu- 
 cational. 
 
 He returned to America in 1819, projected 
 " a literary journal on an extensive plan," but did 
 not carry it into execution. He then brought his 
 stock of literary resources into use as teacher of 
 a school in Boston ;" " wrote in the papers ; deli- 
 vered lectures on natural philosophy, and gave the 
 public several songs and orations for festive and 
 masonic purposes." Tired of this unsatisfactory 
 career he passed to the South, where he took up 
 his residence in the District of Columbia, pursuing 
 his old occupations as a teacher, writer, and lec- 
 turer, and securing an employment in the post- 
 office. He died at Georgetown. January SO, 
 1820. 
 
 The writings of Lathrop have never been col- 
 lected. They consist of his philosophical lectures, 
 several orations, a number of occasional poems, 
 and one of greater scope, which he wrote on the 
 voyage to India, and which was first published at 
 Calcutta in 1802, and reprinted in Boston the 
 
 field, in Hampden County, Mass., Oct. 20, 1820. Buckingham 
 adds to these items the remark — " Mr. Prentiss was a scholar, 
 a good, writer, a judicious critic; he studied no profession, and 
 relied entirely on the exercise of his pen for support. Had he 
 lived half a century later, he might have seen his literary off- 
 spring dressed in scarlet and gold, and died, leaviDg his copy- 
 right to his heirs." 
 
 following year. This was entitled the Speech of 
 Caunonieus, or an Indian Tradition* It is de- 
 dicated " to his Excellency the most noble Rich- 
 ard, Marquis Wellesley, K.P." The author fur- 
 nishes the " argument " of the poem. " Caunoni- 
 eus, Sachem of the Narraghansetts, having reached 
 his eighty-fourth year at a time a little anterior 
 to the landing of the Pilgrims, and finding his 
 infirmities duly increasing, assembled his people 
 round the council fire, and previous to the act of 
 resigning his authority to his nephew, delivered 
 an address, in which he informed them of their 
 nature, origin, and approaching fate." The hero 
 is introduced with dignity, amidst the council of 
 chiefs, at the senate lire. 
 
 At length — serene, Caunonieus arose, 
 The patriot Sachem of the rude domain. 
 
 He recounts the blessings of his reign : — 
 If aught my years have added to your store, 
 Of martial prowess or of useful lore, 
 
 ******** 
 If mine has been a mild, propitious sway, 
 And light your task to follow and obey, 
 Return to God your thanks ! My time is past ;— 
 I sink before the cold and wintry blast. 
 
 ******** 
 To fertile realms I haste, 
 Compared with which your gardens are a waste: 
 There, in full bloom eternal Spring abides, 
 And swarming fishes glide through azure tides. 
 
 The origin of " the Pagan Pantheon " is thus 
 disclosed, how a spirit was placed in the sun and 
 another in the sea, and in the fire, with a succes- 
 sion of river gods, when beasts and fishes were 
 formed, and the gigantic mammoth, with whom 
 the primeval deity has a struggle. 
 
 Creation groan'd when with laborious birth, 
 Mammoth was born to rule his parent earth, — 
 Mammoth ! I tremble while my voice recounts, 
 His size that tower' d o'er all our misty mounts, — 
 His weight a balance for yon pine-crowned hills, 
 On whose broad front half heaven in dew distils ; — 
 His motions forced the starry spheres to shake, 
 The sea to roar — the solid land to quake. 
 His breath a whirlwind. From his angry eye, 
 Flash'd flames like fires that light the northern sky; 
 The noblest river scarce supplied him drink, — 
 Nor food, the herds that giazed along its brink ; — 
 Trampling through forests would the monster pass, 
 Breasting the stoutest oaks like blades of grass ! 
 
 Creation finished, God a Sabbath kept, 
 And twice two hundred moons profoundly slept; 
 At length from calm and undisturbed repose, 
 With kind intent the sire of nature rose ; — 
 Northward he bent his course, with parent care, 
 To view his creatures and his love declare, 
 To bless the works his wisdom erst had plann'd, 
 And with fresh bounties fill the grateful land. 
 Hoar Paumpagussit swell'd with conscious pride, 
 And bore the Almighty o'er each looming tide ; 
 Sweet flowering bushes sprang where'er he trod, 
 And groves, and vales, and mountains, hail'd their 
 ' God ; 
 
 * The Speech of Caunonieus, or an Indian Tradition: a 
 Poem, with explanatory notes. 
 
 Hi ceptis 
 Adspirate meis ; primaqne ah origine mnndi 
 Ad mea perpetuum deducite tempora carmen. — Ovtd. 
 
 By John Lathrop, A.M. Calcutta: Printed by Thomas Hol- 
 lingbery, Hircarrah Press. 1802. 4to. pp. 42. 
 
JOHN LATHROP. 
 
 613 
 
 With more effulgent beams Keesuekquand shone, 
 And lent to night a splendor like his own. 
 Thus moved the deity. But vengeful wrath, 
 Soon gather'd awful glooms around his path, 
 Approaching near to Mammoth's wide domain, 
 He view'd the ravage of the tyrant's reign. 
 Not the gaunt wolf, nor cougar fierce and wild, 
 Escaped the tusks that all the fields despoil'd , 
 No beast that ranged the valley, plain or wood, 
 Was spared by earth's fell chief and his insatiate 
 brood. 
 
 Nor did just anger rest. Behold, a storm 
 Of sable horrors clothe the eternal's form. 
 Loud thunders burst while forked lightnings dart, 
 And each red bolt transfix'd a Mammoth's heart, 
 Tall cedars crash'd beneath them falling prone, 
 And heaven rebellow'd with their dying groan. 
 So, undermined by inward fires, or time. 
 Some craggy mount that long has tower'd sublime, 
 Tumbles in ruins with tremendous sound. 
 And spreads a horrible destruction round ; 
 The trembling land through all its caverns roars, 
 And ocean hoarsely draws his billows from the 
 shores. 
 
 Mammoth, meanwhile, opposed his maily hide, 
 And shagged front, that thunderbolts defied ; 
 Celestial arms from his rough head he shook, 
 And trampling with his hoofs, the blunted weapons 
 broke. 
 
 At length, one shaft discharged with happier aim, 
 Pierced his huge side and wrapp'd his bulk in 
 
 flame. 
 Mad with the anguish of the burning wound, 
 With furious speed he raged along the ground, 
 And pass'd Ohio's billows with a bound, — 
 Thence, o'er Wabasli and Illinois he flew, — 
 Deep to their beds the river gods withdrew 
 Affrighted nature trembled as he fled, 
 And God alone, continued free from dread. 
 Mammoth in terrors — awfully sublime, 
 Like sonic vast comet, blazing from our clime, 
 Impetuous rush'd. O'er Allegany's brow 
 He leap'd, and howling plung'd to wilds below ; 
 There, in immortal anguish he remains, 
 No peace he knows ; — no balm can ease his pains ; 
 And oft his voice appals the chieftain's breast, 
 Like hollow thunders murmuring from the west, — 
 To every Sachem dreadful truths reveals, 
 And monarchs shudder at its solemn peals. 
 Such is the punishment, by righteous fate, 
 The dread avenger of each injured state, 
 Reserved for tyrant chiefs, who madly dare 
 Oppress the tribes committed to their care. 
 Almighty wrath pursues them for their deeds, — 
 They stab their souls in every wretch that bleeds, 
 The hideous wound eternal shall endure, — 
 Remorse, despair, — alas, what skill can cure ! 
 ****** ** 
 
 Mammoth being thus overpowered, man and 
 woman are then brought on the scene : 
 
 There God retired, elate, from Mammoth's death, 
 
 Form'd man of oak, and quickened him with breath, 
 
 Moulding the wood according to his will, 
 
 Nine moons his plastic hands employed their skill. 
 
 Life's vital fount within the breast he plac'd, 
 
 And Reason's seat the brain's nice fabric grae'd, 
 
 Superior wisdom beaming from his face, 
 
 Proclaim'd the lord of earth and all its race. 
 
 Erect and tall the new Commander strode, 
 
 In shape and motion noble as a god. 
 
 His eye the spirit intellectual fir'd, 
 
 His ample heart no vulgar joys desir'd, 
 
 For there, though chief, unrivall'd and alone, 
 
 Had emulation fix'd her blazing throne. 
 
 Next to complete th' Eternal's glorious plan, 
 Sweet woman rose, the sole compeer of man, 
 Her voice was soft as Philomela's note, 
 When Evening's shades o'er flowery vallies float ; 
 Her lips breath'd fragrance, like the breeze of morn, 
 And her eyes sparkled as the spangled thorn, 
 Ere glist'ning dews, by heat exhaled away, 
 Yield their mild splendors to intenser day : — 
 And silken skin adoru'd her waving form, 
 Whose glossing texture touch'd, — so smooth, so 
 
 warm, 
 Through the thrill'd breast diffused a rapt'rous 
 
 glow, 
 And bade the blood with amorous phrenzy flow. 
 She, like the skies, which gazing tribes adore, 
 Two beauteous orbs upon her bosom bore, 
 Whose charms united, bless'd continual view, 
 While heaven's lights singly deck'd the expansive 
 
 blue, 
 Giving all seasons of man's life to prove, 
 The bliss of constant and unfading love ; 
 Perfect she shone, the fairest and the best — 
 Of all God's works the paragon contest. 
 This pair, the parents of our race design'd, 
 The solemn rite6 of holy wedlock joined ; 
 From their embraces, sprang forth at a birth, 
 Of different sex, two more to people earth, 
 Thence, still proceeding, num'rous children smil'd, 
 And gladden'd with their sports the shady wild. 
 Till Paugautemisk held paternal reign, 
 O'er the throng'd forest and the busy plain. 
 
 An Indian legend of Oswego follows, and the 
 poem closes with a prophecy of the coming 
 Empire. 
 
 Lathrop's several addresses and orations were : 
 on the Fourth of July, 1796, for the town author- 
 ities of Boston; on the same anniversary, in 1798, 
 at Dedham ; a Masonic Address at Charlestown, 
 Mass., June 24, 1811; an Address before the 
 Associated Instructors of Youth, in Boston and 
 vicinity, on the First Anniversary of the Institu- 
 tion, August 19, 1813 ; Monody Sacred to the 
 Memory of John L. Abbot, who died Oct. 17, 
 1814. He also published the Pocket Register 
 and Free Mason's Anthology, in 1813.* Of his 
 occasional verses, Knapp quotes the following 
 
 ODE FOR THE TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE MASSA- 
 CHUSETTS CHARITABLE EIRE SOCIETY. 
 
 If on the haughty warrior's brow, 
 
 Is plac'd the crown of deathless fame ; 
 And earth's applauding lords bestow, 
 
 Their proudest titles on his name ; 
 Oh say, shall glory's partial hand, 
 
 Withhold the meed to pity due, 
 When plaintive sorrow's grateful band 
 
 For wreaths to deck their patrons sue. 
 
 A tear-enamelled chaplet weave, 
 
 Round Bowdoin's venerated urn, 
 Where all the patriot virtues grieve, 
 
 And votive lamps of science burn ; 
 Sweet charity on Russell's tomb, 
 
 A shower of vernal ilow'rets throws ; — 
 And bays of fadeless verdure bloom 
 
 O'er classic Minot's calm repose. 
 
 New England's worthies grace the pyre, 
 Where Belknap soar'd for ever blest I 
 
 Religion lights her hallow'd fire, 
 Where pious Stillman's relics rest, — 
 
 * Knapp's American Bintrraphy. LoriDg's Boston Orators, 
 pp. 255-7. Alloa's Biog. Diet. 
 
614 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 Why mourns the Muse with tearful eyes, 
 While pondering o'er the roll of death ! 
 
 Afresh her keenest sorrows rise, 
 With Emerson's departed breath ! 
 
 All ! Heaven again demands its own, 
 
 Another fatrd shaft is sped, 
 And genius, friendship, learning, mourn 
 
 Their Buekminstcr among the dead ! 
 To Eliot's tomb, ye Muses, bring 
 
 Fresh roses from the bieathi, g wild, 
 Wet with the tears of dewy Spring, 
 
 For lie was virtue's gentlest ehiid ! 
 
 Ye sainted spirits of the just. 
 
 Departed friends, we raise our eyes, 
 From humbler scenes of mould'ring dust, 
 
 To brighter mansions in the skies. — 
 Where faith and hope, their trials past, 
 
 Shall smile in endless joy secure, 
 And charity's blest reign shall last, 
 
 While Heaven's eternal courts endure. 
 
 AECniBALD ALEXAXDEE. 
 This head of a family eminent for its theological 
 services in the professor's chair and the pulpit, 
 was born in Rockbridge county, Virginia, April 
 17, 1772. His grandfather, an emigrant from 
 Ireland of the Scottish race, was one of tin* first 
 settlers in that region, about the year 1 738 — a man 
 of courage and mental activity, who raised a com- 
 pany of men for military duty on the Kenhawa, 
 and gave lessons to the young of his neighborhood 
 at home. His son William was a trader and farm- 
 er. The early years of Archibald Alexander were 
 passed in country associations with such educa- 
 tion as the time and place offered — asan instance 
 of which, we may note that the future eminent 
 divine was taught by a convict from London, who 
 had been bought by his father at Baltimore, and 
 turned to account in this way, as he had some 
 Latin and Greek education, in a log school-house 
 set up for that purpose. The name of this youth 
 was Reardon. lie enlisted in the war, and was 
 cut down in a skirmish in North Carolina by 
 Tarleton's men, and left for dead upon the field, 
 lie survived, however, to get back to his school- 
 keeping. 
 
 The instructions of the Rev. William Graham 
 and of his assistant, James Priestly, in the school 
 near Lexington — names to be held in respect in the 
 early annals of American education — shaped the 
 studies of Alexander. He had hardly, at the age of 
 seventeen, completed them, when his father pro- 
 cured him an engagement as a tutor in the family 
 of General John Posey, of the Wilderness, a hun- 
 dred and forty miles from his home, across the 
 Blue Ridge in Spotsylvania county, where he pars- 
 ed a year instructing the sons and a daughter in 
 Latin, and educating himself. On his return home, 
 he was influenced by the religious movements then 
 taking place in the country, to think seriously of 
 divinity — a study which he prosecuted witli Ids 
 preceptor Graham, reading the works of Edwards 
 and Owen. He was licensed in 17'Jl at Winches- 
 ter, after which he made a missionary tour 
 through the southern counties of the state ; his 
 memoranda of which; published in his life by his 
 son, are interesting contributions to the history of 
 the times. In one of Ids journeys in 1794, he 
 heard Patrick Henry on a jury murder case, and 
 his testimony of his eloquence is an addition to 
 
 the many warm and seemingly extravagant eulo- 
 logies collected by Wirt. In 1707, Alexander 
 was called to the presidency of Hampden Sidney 
 College, an institution established as a Presbyte- 
 rian theological seminary, which had received its 
 charter as a college in 1783. Samuel Stanhope 
 Smith was its first president. Alexander occupied 
 this office till 1801, when he visited New York 
 and New England. His reminiscences of the jour- 
 ney and of the chief clergymen of the day possess 
 distinctness and spirit. He was at Dartmouth 
 College when Daniel Web>ter pronounced his 
 Commencementspeech. On his arrival at Boston, 
 the geographer Morse was mystified by his intro- 
 duction as president of " Camden" Sidney College, 
 lie had never heard of the institution, and when 
 the error was corrected it was hardly more com- 
 plimentary, for Morse had given a melancholy ac- 
 count in his book of the veritable Hampden Sid- 
 ney it- elf. Alexander met on this tour such 
 celebrities as Samuel Hopkins, Emmons, Pre ident 
 Wheelock,and the magnates of UnrvardandPrince- 
 ton, under the presidencies of Willard and Smith. 
 On his return to Virginia in 1802, he married 
 Janetta Waddell, (he dmght^r of the eloquent 
 blind preacher, celebrated by Wirt in the British 
 Spy — a lady whose affections he had engaged on 
 a casual visit to her father in Louisa county, on 
 his horseback journey from the college the pre- 
 vious year. This union, a very happy one, la-ted 
 during his life, his widow surviving him a short 
 time. In 1807, he took charge of a congregation 
 in Philadelphia, where he remained till the or- 
 ganization of the Theological Seminary at Prince- 
 ton by the General Assembly of the Presbyterian 
 church in 1812, when he became its first professor, 
 with charge of the various branches of theologi- 
 cal education, a range of duty which finally settled 
 down, as the demands and resources of the institu- 
 tion increased, and he was relieved by the labors 
 of others into a distinct professorship of pastoral 
 and polemic theology. Be was at tins time forty 
 years old, and held this position till his death, 
 almost as long a period after, in his seventy-ninth 
 year — an event which occurred at Princeton, Oc- 
 tober 22, 1851. 
 
 The reputation of Dr. Alexander fur learning 
 and authorship dates from his residence at Prince- 
 ton. Be was a thorough and accomplished stu- 
 dent, a critic and interpreter of the Greek and 
 Hebrew scriptures ; in the latter of which he was 
 one of the earliest American proficients. Through 
 his later years he would read a chapter of the 
 Old Testament daily in the original, for which he 
 had a reverential regard, and could be heard at 
 times chanting to himself portions of the Hebrew 
 psalter. He held the German and Dutch Pro- 
 testant divines of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries, in great estimation ; and brought a largo 
 Collection of them together to the library of the 
 seminary. 
 
 Be did not begin to publish, if we except seve- 
 ral occasional sermons, till Ins fifty-second year, 
 when his Brief Outline of the Evidences of ', the 
 Christian Religion appeared, a work which is 
 held in regard as a text-book in botli England and 
 America. Bis contributions to the Biblical Re- 
 pertory and Princeton Review were thereafter 
 frequent in articles in wiiieh he guarded and de- 
 fined the principles of morals and theology. His 
 
ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. 
 
 G15 
 
 edd&tmtfai 
 
 Introductory Lectures on the opening of the terms 
 of study, seventeen in number, which are still in 
 manuscript, embrace many points of practical and 
 speculative divinity — what may be called the 
 moral philosophy of Divinity. One of these dis- 
 course-: had for its subject, The Use and Abuse of 
 Books. In 1816, he published in a large octavo 
 volume, a History of Colonization on the West- 
 ern. Coast of Africa. His History of the Israel- 
 itish Nation, from their origin to their dispersion 
 at the destruction of Jerusalem hy the Romans, 
 appeared in Philadelphia in 1832. He also wrote 
 many tracts and several biographical abridg- 
 ments for the Presbyterian Board of Publication 
 and the American Tract Society. 
 
 As a preacher, Dr. Alexander was greatly 
 admired. His discourses were "experimental, 
 casuistical, practical, consolatory," and are noticed 
 as having but little of the mannerisms and phrases 
 of any particular school. His conversational pow- 
 ers were very happy, and were freely exercised 
 among his family and friends. His habits as a 
 student kept him much among his books, so that 
 for a great portion of his life his only exercise 
 was in passing the few steps from his library to 
 his lecture-room. He would get relief from one 
 grave study in another as grave of a different turn. 
 His personal appearance, in a piercing eye, a high 
 forehead and delicate features, with a transparent 
 complexion, was expressive of the refined and 
 penetrating mind within. 
 
 Of the sons of Dr. Alexander, his biographer, 
 . Dr. James W. Alexander, the pastor of the Presby- 
 terian Church on the Fifth Avenue,is the author of 
 several works of value and intere-t. One of the ear- 
 liest of these is a collection of essays, entitled the 
 American Mechanic and Workingman, of a prac- 
 tical ingenious turn, in which, with good humorand 
 good sense, the moral and intellectual capabilities 
 of the calling are insisted upon and enlarged. He 
 has published also a volume of sermons, entitled 
 
 Consolation; in Discourses on Select Topics, ad- 
 dressed to the suffering people of God ; Thoughts 
 on Family Worship, and Plain Words to a Young 
 Communicant. His love of literature, and activity 
 as a thinker and student, have been shown in 
 numerous contributions to the Biblical Reper- 
 tory, in various brief essays which have ap- 
 peared in the Newark Daily Advertiser and The 
 Literary World, under the title of Gesariensis, 
 As a scholar, he is one of the most exact and 
 finished men of the day. 
 
 The " Biblical Repertory and Princeton Re- 
 vie w,"such being its final title, is the ol, lest of exist- 
 ing American theological quarterlies, having now 
 reached its thirty-first volume. It was begun by 
 Professor Hodge in 1825, and has, with small in- 
 tervals, remained under bis able hand till the pre- 
 sent time. It lias been regarded as the accredited 
 organ of the Westminster Oalvinists and Presby- 
 terians, and has exercised a formidable influence; 
 but its tone in regard to Slavery has made it espe- 
 cially unsavory to the abolitionists. In the " Bri- 
 tish Foreign Theological Review," of Edinburgh, 
 for 1 So 1-2, more than a dozen of the articles re- 
 published are from the Princeton Review. For 
 many years together it was the vehicle for the 
 most elaborate dissertations of Miller, Brecken- 
 ridge, Dod, Hodge, the Alexanders, and other 
 well known Presbyterians. 
 
 The Rev. Albert B. Dod, D.D., was one of the 
 most brilliant writers for this work, though he 
 did not live to accomplish that authorship for 
 which be was so well prepared. He was for some 
 years professor of Mathematics in Princeton Col- 
 lege, where he shared the intimacy and the fame 
 of such men as Henry, now of the Smithsonian In- 
 stitution, andTorrey, the great botanist of America. 
 Dod was a man of letters as well as science, a keen 
 metaphysician, pious divine, an eloquent preacher, 
 a captivating converser. and a writer of equal argu- 
 mentative and sarcastic power. He died unex- 
 pectedly in the spring-tide of a great reputation, 
 in the year 184(5. Some of Dr. Dod's admirable 
 productions have been collected in a volume enti- 
 tled "Princeton Essays." 
 
 Professor Joseph A. Alexander, of the Theologi- 
 cal Seminary at Princeton, is the author of a valua- 
 ble Commentary on the Psalms, following the cx- 
 positionofHangstenberg ;* a Critical Commentary 
 on the Prophecies of Isaiah ; and an abridgment of 
 the same, with a volume on Primitive Church Go- 
 vernment. 
 
 NATUT.AL SCENERY SEEN BY TUB YOUTFI AND TIIE MAN. 
 
 Whether the scenery with which our senses are 
 conversant in early life 1ms any considerable effect 
 o:i the character of the mind, is a question not easily 
 determined. It would be easy to theorize on the 
 subject; ami formerly I indulged in many lucubra 
 tions, which at the time seemed plausible, all tend 
 ing to the conclusion that minds developed under the 
 constant view and impression of grand or pictur- 
 esque scenery must in vigour and fertility of imagi- 
 nation be greatly superior to those who spend their 
 youth in dark alleys, or in the crowded streets of a 
 large city, where the only objects which constantly 
 meet the senses are stone and brick walls, and dirty 
 and offensive gutters. The child of the mountains, 
 
 * The Psalms. Translated and Explained by J. A. AleAan- 
 der, DD. 3 vols. Scribner, 1350-51. 
 
616 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 who cannot open his eyes without seeing sublime 
 peaks, penetrating beyond the clouds, stupendous 
 rocks, and deep and dark caverns, enclosed by fright- 
 ful precipices, thought I, must possess a vivid im- 
 pression of the scenes of nature, by which he will be 
 distinguished from those born and brought up in the 
 city, or in the dull, monotonous plain, where there 
 is neither grandeur nor variety. Perhaps there might 
 be a little vanity mingled with these speculations, as 
 it was my lot to draw the first breath of life at the 
 foot of a lofty mountain, and on the bank of a roar- 
 ing mountain torrent ; where the startling reveille 
 was often the hideous howling of hungry wolves. 
 But when I attempted to recollect whether I had, in 
 the days of childhood, ever experienced any sensible 
 impression from the grandeur of surrounding objects, 
 or had ever been led to contemplate these objects of 
 nature with any strong emotion, I could not satisfy 
 myself that any thing of this sort had ever occurred. 
 The only reminiscence was of impressions made by 
 the novelty of some object, not before seen ; or some 
 fancied resemblance to something with which I was 
 . familiar. Two mountains, somewhat remarkable, 
 were frequently surveyed by me with delight ; the 
 House Mountain, and the Jump Mountain ; both ap- 
 pertaining to a ridge, called in the valley the North 
 Mountain. The first of these is a beautiful mountain 
 which stands out at some distance from the main 
 ridge, and from the middle of the valley exhibits 
 something of the shape and appearance of a house. 
 From Lexington and its vicinity, the view of this 
 mountain is pleasant and imposing. The idea of its 
 resemblance to a house took strong hold of my ima- 
 gination ; and especially because at the western end 
 there was the resemblance of a shed, which corres- 
 ponded with such an appendage to the house in 
 which my childhood was spent. And now, when I 
 revisit the place of my nativity, whilst almost every 
 thing else is changed, the House Mountain remains 
 the same, and I gaze upon it with that peculiar emo- 
 tion which attends the calling up in a lively manner 
 the thoughts and impressions of infancy. The idea 
 of a perfect resemblance to a house was so deeply 
 imprinted on my mind, in relation to this mountain, 
 that I was greatly discomposed and disturbed in my 
 thoughts, when a boy, by having occasion to travel 
 a few miles towards the east end of the mountain, 
 and finding that every resemblance of a house was 
 gone ; and when instead of one beautiful, uniform 
 mountain, as smooth and steep as the roof of a house, 
 I now beheld two rough-looking spurs, separated at 
 a considerable distance from each other. This obli- 
 teration of a pleasing idea from the mind was pain- 
 ful; and whenever I was in a situation to see the 
 mountain under this aspect, the unpleasant impres- 
 sion was renewed. Every traveller among moun- 
 tains must have noticed how remarkably they vary 
 their appearances, as he changes his position; and 
 not only so, but from the same site a prominent 
 mountain exhibits a wonderful variety of aspects ac- 
 cording to the state of the atmosphere. This I be- 
 lieve is what is called looming, and was much noticed 
 by Mr. Jefferson from Montieello, particularly in re- 
 lation to that remarkable isolated mountain, called 
 Willis's, which elevates its head to a considerable 
 height, at a great distance from any other mountain 
 or hill. 
 
 But to return to my favourite, the House Moun- 
 tain. In the days of my childhood — and perhaps it 
 is still the case — this mountain was commonly burnt 
 over every year; that is, the dry leaves on the 
 ground were burnt. When the fire extended in a 
 long crooked string along the side of the mountain, 
 and especially when near the top, the appearance 
 was grand and beautiful in a very dark night. It 
 
 had all the appearance of a zigzag fire in the sky ; 
 and whenever it occurred, greatly attracted and de- 
 lighted the boys. It was in those days held as a 
 maxim among boys, that no one ever had ascended, 
 or could ascend to the ridge or summit of the House 
 Mountain ; but since that time I understand that not 
 only men, but women, have been successful in reach- 
 ing the top ; and have thence surveyed the varied 
 and delightful landscape of the valley, with its vil- 
 lages, and its farms, its rivers and smaller streams. 
 I can scarcely conceive of a pleasanter prospect than 
 that which might be enjoyed from the summit of the 
 House Mountain. 
 
 As to the Jump Mountain, it was only occasionally 
 that I got a view of it; and although the descent is 
 very abrupt on the north side, so that the top of the 
 mountain actually seems to project, my mind would 
 have received a slighter impression from it, had not 
 the first view of it been associated with a story told 
 me by an older boy, that the reason why it was call- 
 ed the Jump Mountain, was because, at a certain 
 time, a man had actually jumped off the top of the 
 mountain, and fallen dead at its foot. This made a 
 deep impression on my mind, and although I have 
 seen the mountain hundreds of times since, I believe 
 I never saw it without thinking of the man who took 
 such an awful leap. When that species of taste is 
 developed which delight:- in landscapes, I have not 
 been able, with any precision, to ascertain. As far 
 as my own experience goes, or rather as far as me- 
 mory furnishes me with facts,. I think that while a 
 boy at school, I had no consciousness of the exercise 
 of any such faculty. The love of novelty is almost 
 coeval with our existence ; but the love of the beau- 
 ties of nature is slow in its development, and when 
 there is no culture, it is often scarcely observable in 
 mature age. Some men cast their eye over a lovely 
 landscape with as little emotion as is experienced by 
 the horses on which they ride. The only thought 
 perhaps is, how rich the land? how many barrels of 
 corn, or hogsheads of tobacco, or bushels of wheat, 
 might be raised here to the acre ? And even the 
 horse will experience an emotion as elevated as his 
 rider's, if there Bhould happen to be a good clover 
 field in sight. As it relates to objects of sublimity, 
 I have found it, except in a few cases, difficult to dis- 
 tinguish this emotion from mere wonder, or admira- 
 tion. But in this same valley, and not very remote 
 from the objects of which I have spoken, there is one 
 which, I think, produces the feeling which is deno- 
 minated the sublime, more definitely and sensibly 
 than any that I have ever seen. I refer to the Na- 
 tural Bridge, from which the county takes its name. 
 It is not my object to describe this extraordinary 
 lusus naturw, as it may be ealled. In fact, no re- 
 presentation which can be given by the pen or pen- 
 cil can convey any adequate idea of the object, or 
 one that will have the least tendency to produce the 
 emotion excited by a view of the object itself. There 
 are some things, then, which the traveller, however 
 eloquent, cannot communicate to his readers. All I 
 intend is, to mention the effect produced by a sight 
 of the Natural Bridge on my own mind. When a 
 boy of fourteen or fifteen, I first visited this curiosi- 
 ty. Having stood on the top, and looked down into 
 the deep chasm above and below the bridge, without 
 any new or very strong emotions, as the scene bore 
 a resemblance to many which are common to tha^ 
 country, I descended by the usual circuitous path to 
 the bottom, and came upon the stream or brook some 
 distance below the bridge. The first view which I 
 obtained of the beautiful and elevated blue limestone 
 arch, springing up to the cloudB, produced an emotion 
 entirely new ; the feeling was as though something 
 within sprung up to a great height by a kindof sudden 
 
WILLIAM WIRT. 
 
 617 
 
 impulse. That was the animal sensation which ac- 
 companied the genuine emotion of the sublime. 
 Many years afterwards, I again visited the bridge. 
 I entertained the belief, that I had preserved in my 
 mind, all along, the idea of the object, ; and that now 
 I should see it without emotion. But the fact was 
 not so. The view, at this time, produced a revival 
 of the original emotion, with the conscious feeling 
 that the idea of the object had faded away, and be- 
 come both obscure and diminutive, but was now re- 
 stored, in an instant, to its original vividness and 
 magnitude. The emotion produced by any object of 
 true sublimity, as it is very vivid, so it is very short 
 in its continuance. It seems, then, that novelty must 
 be added to other qualities in the object, to produce 
 this emotion distinctly. A person living near the 
 bridge, who should see it every day, might be pleased 
 with the object, but would experience, after awhile, 
 nothing of the vivid emotion of the sublime. Thus, 
 I think, it must be accounted for, that the starry 
 heavens, or the sun shining in his strength, are view- 
 ed with little emotion of this kind, although mucli 
 the sublimeit objects in our view ; we have been ac- 
 customed to view them daily, from our infancy. But 
 a bright coloured rainbow, spanning a large arch in 
 the heavens, strikes all classes of persons with a min- 
 gled emotion of the sublime and beautiful ; to which 
 a sufficient degree of novelty is added, to render the 
 impression vivid, as often as it occurs. I have re- 
 flected on the reason why the Natural Bridge pro- 
 duces the emotion of the sublime, so well defined 
 and so vivid ; but I have arrived at nothing satisfac- 
 tory. It must be resolved into an ultimate law of 
 our nature, that a novel object of that elevation and 
 form will produce such an effect. Any attempt at 
 analysing objects of beauty and sublimity only tends 
 to produce confusion in our ideas. To artists, such 
 analysis may be useful ; not to increase the emotion, 
 but to enable them to imitate more effectually the 
 objects of nature by which it is produced. Although 
 I have conversed with many thousands who had seen 
 the Natural Bridge ; and although the liveliness of 
 the emotion is very different in different persons ; 
 yet I never saw one, of any class, who did not view 
 the object with considerable emotion. And none 
 have ever expressed disappointment from having had 
 their expectations raised too high, by the description 
 previously received. Indeed, no previous descrip- 
 tion communicates any just conception of the object 
 as it appears ; and the attempts to represent it by 
 the pencil, as far as I have seen them, are pitiful. 
 Painters would show their wisdom by omitting to 
 represent some of the objects of nature, such as a 
 volcano in actual ebullition, the sea in a storm, the 
 conflagration of a great city, or the scene of a bat- 
 tle-field. The imitation must be 90 faint and feeble, 
 that the attempt, however Bkilfully executed, is apt 
 to produce disgust, instead of admiration." 
 
 WILLIAM WIHT. 
 
 William Wirt, the eloquent lawyer and amiable 
 biographer of Patrick Henry, was born at Bla- 
 deusburg in Maryland, November 8, 1772, in the 
 first descent from a European parentage — his 
 father being a native of Switzerland and his 
 mother of Germany. His father was an inn- 
 keeper of the place. He died shortly after his 
 son's birth, and the mother did not long survive. 
 At eight years of age, William was an orphan 
 under the care of his uncle. His education was 
 well provided for at the school of James Hunt, in 
 Montgomery county, a Presbyterian clergyman, 
 in whose house his pupil resided, and where a well 
 
 stored library was kindly seconded in its influ- 
 ences by the frank maimers and instructions of 
 its owner. To this library Wirt owed the germ 
 of that love of reading which bore luxuriant fruit 
 in his later writings. Josephus, Guy of Warwick, 
 Peregrine Pickle, Pope, and Home's Elements of 
 Criticism, were the mixed company of these early 
 literary acquaintances. When he became an adept 
 in the rigorous studies of the law, Wirt looked 
 back with dismay upon this miscellaneous reading 
 as injurious to the training of his faculties ; 
 though, as his biographer Kennedy wisely sug- 
 gests, probably without cause. If gonitis is some- 
 times oppressed by the abundance of material, it 
 may be as often at a loss for its own proper nutri- 
 ment, which a wider field would have afforded. 
 At fifteen, Wirt had qualified himself to become 
 a private tutor in the family of his schoolmate, 
 Ninian Edwards, who, on his return home, had 
 sounded the praises of his companion to his 
 father. This gentleman, Benjamin Edwards, was 
 a man of character, education, and political posi- 
 tion, whose society and personal encouragement 
 led his young friend onward in his course to the 
 bar, which he finally reached — after preliminary 
 studies with two practitioners, one of whom was 
 the son of his old teacher Hunt — in 1792, his 
 twentieth year. The library with which he com- 
 menced practice consisted of "a copy of Black- 
 stone, two volumes of Don Quixote, and a volume 
 of Tristram Shandy." Three years after, he mar- 
 ried the daughter of a gentleman of distinction in 
 Albemarle, Virginia— Doctor George Gilmer, a 
 physician, residing at Pen Park, near Charlottes- 
 ville, at whose well furnished house, rich in books 
 and society, Wirt, again fortunate in home asso- 
 ciations, took up his residence. His happy career 
 at this place, in which he participated freely in the 
 hearty life of old Virginia, was terminated by the 
 death of his wife in 1799, when he removed to 
 Richmond. He entered upon public life as Clerk 
 to the House of Delegates, and passed rapidly 
 through various stages of legal success, discharg- 
 ing for a while the duties of Chancellor of the 
 eastern shore of Virginia, and after his second 
 marriage, in 1802, with the daughter of Colonel 
 Robert Gamble, practising law during a residence 
 at Norfolk, and subsequently establishing himself 
 in Richmond, till in 1817, in the Presidency of 
 Monroe, he became Attorney-General of the 
 United States, an office which he filled for twelve 
 years. His practice in the Supreme Court gained 
 him great reputation, where he frequently met 
 his legal antagonist Pinkney. His speech in the 
 prosecution of Burr at Richmond, in 1807, in 
 which he sketched in glowing colors the home of 
 Blennerhasset on the Ohio, will always be asso- 
 ciated with' that beautiful locality. It has been 
 a popular recitation with schoolboys as one of 
 the " beauties" of American eloquence. 
 
 On his retirement from the Attorney-General- 
 ship in 1829, Wirt left Washington and took up 
 his permanent residence at Baltimore, where he 
 became actively engaged for the few remaining 
 years of his life in the practice of the law. 
 
 Wirt died at Washington, whither he had gone 
 in attendance on the Supreme Court, of an at- 
 tack of erysipelas, February 18, 1834. His health, 
 which had been for some time enfeebled, suddenly 
 gave way. It is cheerful to see, in his corres- 
 
618 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 pondence, how his constitutional vivacity and 
 hearty .sensibility kept him company to the last. 
 The acuteness of mind and feeling' which gave 
 poignancy to his sufferings in the loss of his 
 famih — ion and two daughters — and the decline 
 of health, enabled him also at times to rise supe- 
 rior to these woes, and from the moments of hap- 
 piness to extract a keener and purer enjoyment 
 than is known to those who get through life with 
 fewer pains and duller pleasures. The southern 
 temperament lives in Wirt's writings; luxuriant, 
 prodigal, self-reproachful for its uncertain pursuit 
 of advantages, imperfect because its own standard 
 is high — but colored with a warm flush of feeling. 
 Of these literary productions, the earliest was 
 his Letters of the British Spy, published in the 
 autumn of 1803 in the Argus, a daily newspaper, 
 at Richmond. They were ten in number, written 
 under the mask of papers left by a travelling 
 member of the British Parliament in the bed- 
 chamber of his inn, at a seaport town of Vir- 
 ginia, and their purpose was simply literary 
 recreation. There are some local descriptions and 
 some scientific speculation in the manner of Jef- 
 Jerson's Notes on Virginia, but the papers are 
 mainly occupied with the writer's studies of elo- 
 quence and observation of the leading public 
 speakers of the country. The sketch of the ser- 
 mon in the woods by the blind preacher, James 
 Waddell, has entered into the common currency 
 of American literature. The book was very suc- 
 cessful on its publication, deriving its interest 
 from its notices of individuals in a classical form. 
 It passed through a number of editions.* 
 
 * The tenth was published by Harper & Brothers in 1K4F, 
 with, a Biographical Sketch of the Author, by his friend Peter 
 Hoffman Cruse, of Baltimore. An English copy before us, 
 published in London in 1S12, has a preface which shows the 
 general estimation in which American literature was held at 
 that recent period, in the Great Metropolis. It says: "The 
 people of the United States of America have so very small a 
 claim on the world for any particular mark of distinction for 
 honours gained in the field of literature, that it is feared the 
 
 In 1804, "Wirt further gave vent to his literary 
 inclinations by the publication of some essays in 
 the Richmond Enquirer, with the title of The 
 Rainbow, which were afterwards collected into a 
 volume. His Old Bachelor, commenced in 1810, 
 was an undertaking ot a similar character, a series 
 of essays on the model of the Spectator, which 
 ran through thirty-three numbers of the same 
 journal. The friends who contributed to this 
 joint affair, which sustained something < f a dra- 
 matic character, were Dabney Carr, whose letter 
 from Squaretoes was much admired in the Vir- 
 ginia circle; Dr. Frank Carr, the Galen ; Richard 
 E. Parker, the Alfred ; Dr. Girardin, the Mel- 
 moth, of the plan, with other contributions by 
 Judge Tucker, David Watson, and Mr. George 
 Tucker. The papers were published in two 
 volumes in 1812, and were favorably received, 
 reaching a third edition in 1818. In the scarcity 
 of American productions at that day, a work of 
 this character was set in bolder relief than it 
 would be at present. 
 
 The topics discussed are the old grievances of 
 the contemptuous reports of English travellers 
 in the country, and the unjust criticism thereupon 
 in the foreign reviews ; female character and edu- 
 cation, with pleasant glimpses of the old Bache- 
 lor's niece, Rosalie ; sketches of the manners and 
 thoughts of Virginia, and, above all, a discussion 
 of the line arts, their means of development and 
 influences, particular)) - in relation to oratory — 
 always a favorite topic with Wirt — of the bar, the 
 senate, or the pulpit. 
 
 The Sketches of the Life and Character of 
 Patrick Henry, the most important in its sub- 
 ject and interest of Wirt's literary productions, 
 had been commenced in 1804, under the stimulus 
 of the praise awarded to the author's personal 
 sketches in the British Spy. The difficulties of 
 the undertaking, in the first place, to get the 
 material, and in the next to master it in a sober, 
 historical style, are pleasantly recounted by him 
 in a letter to Judge Carr in 1815, when the work 
 was nearly completed.* From hearing so much 
 of the speeches of Henry, and finding so few of 
 them recorded, he thought at one time of writing 
 them out from invention, in the style of Iiottaand 
 the ancient historians. As it was his work did 
 not pass without a jest from his friend Jefferson, 
 who contributed to it. 
 
 The life of Henry appeared at last in 1817. It 
 took at once its position as one of the most ani- 
 mated biographical works in our history, though 
 the warmth of its coloring has been objected 
 to, not without some reason, by the critics. 
 The sober narrative of the historian sometimes 
 breaks into the canter of the jury-addressing 
 lawyer or the stump-speaking politician. There 
 is an appearance of eking out the somewhat 
 scanty material by rhetorical effect. It is not 
 
 present demand on the "English reader may be considered more 
 as a call on British courtesy and beuevolenee than one of right 
 and equity. In whatever point of view this may appear, the 
 Header may rely, that the publishers have been induced, from 
 a conviction of the merit of the work, to furnish an impression 
 of the British Spy. They have been enabled to do this by the 
 recent arrival of a gentleman from Baltimore, who brought 
 with him a copy of ihe work, with the assurance, that no ori- 
 ginal American literary production had ever obtained so rapid 
 and extensive a circulation : it having, in a very short space of 
 time, passed through four editions." * 
 
 * Memoir by Kennedy, i. 357-90. 
 
WILLIAM WIRT. 
 
 619 
 
 likely, however, that the latter has injured its 
 popular reception. The work glows with the 
 southern heart of the writer, and in spite of all 
 defects continues to charm the reader; It has 
 dramatic power, witli insight into character; and 
 has certainly done much to stamp the permanent 
 impression on the popular heart and mind of its 
 illustrious subject. Fortunately for the writer's 
 own memory, Ins biography has found a congenial 
 pen in the ample narrative and affectionate zeal 
 of his friend Kennedy. 
 
 In 1826, on the nineteenth of October, the 
 anniversary of the surrender at York and of the 
 birthday of Adams, ho delivered in the Hall of 
 Representatives, in the capitol, his Eulogy on 
 Adams and Jefferson, which was characterized by 
 his usual fervor. 
 
 In 1830, Wirt delivered an admirable address 
 before the literary Societies of Rutgers College, 
 in which he exhibited, with eloquence and feel- 
 ing, the final absolute condition of education being 
 a work of self-culture, and urged upon his young 
 hearers the necessity of a zealous labor, a purpose 
 and disposition in harmony with the country, 
 decision of character, and a manly, high-toned 
 ambition. 
 
 In the same year he pronounced a discourse at 
 Baltimore, on the 28th October, on occasion of a 
 public celebration of the French Revolution of 
 that date. 
 
 At one time Wir' — is what American author 
 has not? — neditated a production in the drama, a 
 sentimental comedy, which lie had promised to 
 the daughter of the actor Greene, a young lady 
 who perished at the burning of the Richmond 
 Theatre in 1811. The play was written, and is 
 still in manuscript, entitled The Path of Pleasure 
 In doubt whether he should publish it or not, the 
 author onnsultad his friends. A letter of Judge 
 Tucker in reply is preserved. 
 
 It would lie doing injustice to Wirt's literary 
 activity to pass over the extensive series of 
 letters preserved in the Memoirs of Kennedy. 
 He wai a diligent and painstaking correspondent; 
 his letters containing passages of description, cri- 
 ticism, humor, and sentiment equal to the best in 
 his writings. They are written to members of 
 his family, his wife, his daughters, and his old 
 friends, Francis W. Gilmer, Dabney Can*, William 
 Pope, and his law student S. Teackle Wallis, to 
 whom he addressed an admirable letter on read- 
 ing and habits of study.* 
 
 Wirt was deeply affected by the death of his 
 daughter Agnes, at the age of sixteen, in 1831, 
 ami gave expression to Ids feelings in a memoir 
 of her, of which Mr. Kennedy, bis biographer, 
 gives this most tenderly touched passage : — 
 " Young as she was, she seemed to he the seal 
 and connecting bond of the whole family. Iler 
 voice, her smile, her animated graceful move- 
 ments, her countless little acts and expressions of 
 kindness and of love, those ' small sweet cour- 
 tesies of life,' which she was so' continually ren- 
 dering to all around her, and with such exquisite 
 grace of manner, had made her neee sary to the 
 individual happiness of every member of the 
 household. When she was lost to us, it was as 
 
 * It is printed in Kennedy's Memoirs, ii. O. 
 
 if the keystone of the arch had been removed. 
 There was a healthfulness in the glow of her 
 fresh and young affections, which animated the 
 rigid nerves of age, and a pleasantness and beauty 
 in the play of her innocent thoughts and feelings, 
 which could smoothe the brow ot care, and light 
 up a sniiie even in the face of sorrow. To meshe 
 was not oulj' the companion of my studies, but 
 the sweetener of my toils. The painter, it is said, 
 relieved his aching eyes by looking on a curtain 
 of green. My mind, in its hour of deepest fatigue, 
 required no other refreshment than one glance at 
 my beloved child as she sat beside me." Mr. 
 Kenned}- compares this expression of feeling with 
 a similar tribute on a like occasion in John 
 Evelyn's Diary. 
 
 In his personal qualities Wirt was most happily 
 constituted of a warm genial temperament, sus- 
 ceptible alike to humor and sentiment, of strong 
 devotional feeling, devoted to his friends and 
 family, anil with the orator's gifts for the public, 
 of a manly countenance, a fine musical voice, and 
 a graceful gesture. He was a good classical 
 scholar, well versed in English literature, a hearty 
 reader. At the bar, his eminent professional 
 reputation is preserved with the annals of our 
 highest courts, and in some of their most impor- 
 tant causes. 
 
 JAMES WADDELL, THE DLIND PTTBACHEB — FROM THE BRITISH 
 SPY. 
 
 Richmond, Oct. 10. 
 
 I have been, my dear P , on an excursion 
 
 through the countries which lie along the eastern 
 side of the Blue Ridge. A general description of 
 that country and its inhabitants may form the sub- 
 ject of a future letter. For the present, I must 
 entertain you with an aceou .t of a most singular 
 and interesting adventure, which I met with, i.i the 
 course of the tour. 
 
 It was one Sunday, as I travelled through the 
 county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a 
 cluster of horses tied near a ruinous, oil, wooden 
 house, in the forest, not far from the road side. 
 Having frequently seen such objects before, in 
 travelling through these states, I had no difficulty 
 in understanding that this was a place of religious 
 worship. 
 
 Devotion alone should have stopped me, to join in 
 the duties of the congregation ; but I must confess, 
 that curiosity, to hear the preacher of such a wilder- 
 ness, was not the least of my motives. On entering, 
 I was struck with his preternatural appearance, ho 
 was a tall and very spare old man ; his head, which 
 was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled 
 hands, and his voice, we e all shaking under the in- 
 fluence of a palsy ; and a few moments ascertained 
 to me that he was perfectly blind. 
 
 The first emotions which touched my breast, were 
 those of mi gled pity and veneration. Rut ah! 
 sacred God! how soon were all my feelings changed! 
 The lips of Plato were never more worthy of a 
 prognostic swarm of bees, than were the lips of this 
 holy man ! It was a day of the administration of 
 the sacrament; and his subject, of course, was the 
 
 passion or our Saviour. 
 
 I had heard the s.b'ect 
 
 handled a thousand times: I had thought it ex- 
 hausted long ago. Little did I suppose, that i:i the 
 wild woods of America, I was to meet with a man 
 whose eloquence woul 1 give to this topic a new and 
 more sublime pathos, than I had ever before wit- 
 nessed. 
 As ho descended from the pulpit, to distribute tb" 
 
620 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 mystic symbols, there was a peculiar, a more than 
 human solemnity in his air and manner which made 
 my blood run cold, and my whole frame shiver. 
 
 He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our 
 Saviour ; his trial before Pilate ; his ascent up Cal- 
 vary ; his crucifixion, and Ins death. I knew the 
 whole history ; but never, until then, had I heard 
 the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so co- 
 loured ! It was all new : and I seemed to have 
 heard it for the first time in my life. His enuncia- 
 tion was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on 
 every syllable ; and every heart in the assembly 
 trembled in unison. His peculiar phrases had that 
 force of description that the original scene appeared 
 to be, at that moment, acting before our eyes. We 
 saw the very faces of the Jews : the staring, fright- 
 ful distortions of malice and rage. ' We saw the 
 buffet ; my soul kindled with a flame of indignation ; 
 and my hands were involuntarily and convulsively 
 clinched. 
 
 But when he came to touch on the patience, the 
 forgiving meekness of our Saviour ; when he drew, 
 to the life, his blessed eyes streaming in tears to 
 heaven ; his voice breathing to Ood, a soft and 
 gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, " Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what they do" — 
 the voice of the preacher, which had all along fal- 
 tered, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance 
 being entirely obstructed by the force of his feel- 
 ings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and 
 burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. 
 The effect is inconceivable. The whole house re- 
 sounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and 
 shrieks of the congregation. 
 
 It was some time before the tumult had sub- 
 sided, so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, 
 judging by the usual, but fallacious standard of my 
 own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the 
 situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive, 
 how he would be able to let his audience down 
 from the height to which he had wound them, 
 without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his 
 subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abrupt- 
 ness of the fall. But — no ; the descent was as beau- 
 tiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
 The first sentence, with which he broke the awful 
 silence, was a quotation from Rousseau, " Socrates 
 died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a 
 God 1" 
 
 I despair of giving you any idea of the effect pro- 
 duced by this short sentence, unless you could per- 
 fectly conceive the whole manner of the man, as 
 well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never 
 before did I completely understand what Demos- 
 thenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. 
 You are to bring before you the venerable figure of 
 the preacher ; his blindness, constantly recalling to 
 your recollection old Homer, Ossian and Milton, 
 and associating with his performance, the melan- 
 choly grandeur of their geniuses ; you are to ima- 
 gine that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented 
 enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling 
 melody ; you are to remember the pitch of passion 
 and enthusiasm to which the congregation were 
 raised ; and then, the few minutes of portentous, 
 death-like silence which reigned throughout the 
 house ; the preacher removing his white handker- 
 chief from his aged face, (even yet wet from the 
 recent torrent of his tears,) and slowly stretching 
 forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the 
 sentence, " Socrates died like a philosopher" — then 
 pausing, raising his other hand, pressing .them both 
 clasped together, with warmth and energy to his 
 breast, lifting his " sightlesB balls" to heaven, and 
 
 pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice — 
 " but Jesus Christ — like a God I" If he had been 
 indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect 
 could scarcely have been more divine. 
 
 Whatever I had been able to conceive of the sub- 
 limity of Massillon, or the force of Bourdaloue, had 
 fallen far short of the power which I felt from the 
 delivery of this simple sentence. The blood, which 
 just before had rushed in a hurricane upon my 
 brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feel- 
 ings, had held my whole system in suspense, now 
 ran back into my heart, with a sensation which I 
 cannot describe — a kind of shuddering delicious 
 horror! The paroxysm of blended pity and indig- 
 nation, to which I had been transported, subsided 
 into the deepest self-abasement, humility and adora- 
 tion. I had just been lacerated and dissolved by 
 sympathy, for our Saviour as a fellow creature ; but 
 now, with fear and trembling, I adored him as — " a 
 God !" _ 
 
 If this description give you the impression, that 
 this incomparable minister had anything of shallow, 
 theatrical trick in his manner, it does him great in- 
 justice. I have never seen, in any other orator, 
 such a union of simplicity and majesty. He has not 
 a gesture, an attitude or an accent, to which he does 
 not seem forced, by the sentiment which he is ex- 
 pressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too 
 solicitous, and, at the same time, too dignified, to 
 stoop to artifice. Although as far removed from 
 ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear from the 
 train, the' style and substance of his thoughts, that 
 he is not only a very polite scholar, but a man of 
 extensive and profound erudition. I was forcibly 
 struck with a short, yet beautiful character which 
 he drew of our learned and amiable countryman, Sir 
 Robert Boyle : he spoke of him, as if " his noble 
 mind had, even before death, divested herself of all 
 influence from his frail tabernacle of flesh ;" and 
 called him, in his peculiarly emphatic and impres- 
 sive manner, " a pure intelligence : the link between 
 men and angels." 
 
 This man has been before my imagination almost 
 ever since. A thousand times, as 1 rode along, I 
 dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my 
 hand, and tried to imitate his quotation from Rous- 
 seau ; a thousand times 1 abandoned the attempt in 
 despair, and felt persuaded that his peculiar manner 
 and power arose from an energy of soul, which 
 nature could give, but which no human being could 
 justly copy. In short, he seems to be altogether a 
 being of a former age, or of a totally different nature 
 from the rest of men. As I recall, at this moment, 
 several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling 
 tide, with which my blood begins to pour along my 
 arteries, reminds me of the emotions produced by 
 the first sight of Gray's introductory picture of his 
 bard: 
 
 On a Tock, whose haughty brow, 
 
 FrownB o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
 Eobed in the sable garb of wo, 
 
 With haggard eyes the poet stood ; 
 (Loose his beard and hoary hair 
 
 Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air :) 
 And witli a poet's hand and prophet's fire, 
 
 Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 
 
 Guess my surprise, when, on my arrival at Rich- 
 mond, and mentioning the name of this man, I found 
 not one person who had ever before heard of James 
 Waddell it Is it not strange, that such a genius as 
 this, so accomplished a scholar, so divine an orator, 
 should be permitted to languish and die in obscurity, 
 within eighty miles of the metropo is of Yirginia ? 
 To me it is a conclusive argument, either that the 
 Virginians have no taste for the highest strains of 
 the most sublime oratory, or that they are destitute 
 
WILLIAM WIKT. 
 
 621 
 
 of a much more important quality, the love of 
 genuine and exalted religion. 
 
 ELOQUENCE OP THE PULPIT — FROM TITE OLD BACHELOR. 
 
 I cannot present to my readers any instance of a 
 happy manner, which is so extensively and tami- 
 liarly known as that of Mr. Cooper, the tragedian. 
 Many of us had read tlie dagger scene in Macbeth, 
 a hundred times, before we saw that inimitable 
 actor, and had supposed that we had perceived all 
 the beauty and felt all the force of the passage. 
 But, as for myself, when I came to see Mr. Cooper 
 in that scene, all that I had perceived and felt be- 
 fore, became, in the comparison, so tame and insipid, 
 that I seemed, nay I did, for the first time, under- 
 stand the image which was in Shakespeare's mind. 
 The horror-struck attitude and countenance — the 
 deep, low, agitated whisper — " Is that a dagger that 
 I see before me!" — the desperate convulsive attempt 
 to clutch it — the increased amazement and frenzied 
 consternation at the failure — his eyes starting wild 
 with horror from their orbits, and slowly following 
 the motion of the. visionary dagger to the door of 
 Duncan's chamber — " thou marshal'st me the way 
 that I was going" — -altogether had such an effect on 
 me, that when I got relief by the momentary disap- 
 pearance of the dagger, I found that I had been be- 
 reaved of my breath — my sinews and my muscles 
 had been strained to a painful extremity — and I felt 
 my hair descending and setting on my head, for 
 it had been raised by sympathetic horror — And, 
 what is still more wonderful, when I supposed his 
 power of action exhausted on this scene, yet when 
 the dagger re-appears at the door of Duncan's cham- 
 ber, 
 
 And on its blaoV and dudsreon gouts of blood 
 Which was not so before — 
 
 it was clear that the performer's resources of action 
 were as infinite and inexhaustible as the wonderful 
 genius whose effusions he was painting to the eye 
 and to the heart. His attitude ! His look ! That 
 whisper ! Tenfold horrors surrounded him ! ! It 
 was the most blood-chilling, the most petrifying 
 spectacle I ever beheld ! I am persuaded that hu- 
 man nature could not have endured the agonizing 
 stretch of the nerves to which this master of his art 
 was able to wind his audience ! And all this, be it 
 remembered, was the work of manner. 
 
 I shall be asked whether I propose the manner of 
 the theatre as a model of our public speakers ? I 
 answer, not the vicious manner of the theatre — -not 
 the overloaded, extravagant, most unnatural gesticu- 
 lation which we see practised on the stage. But let 
 it be remembered, that this mode of action is im- 
 proper and disgusting even on the stage itself. 
 Shakespeare has given the true rule of action, which 
 is universal in its application — ■" Suit the action to 
 the word, the word to the action ; with this special 
 observance, that you overstep not the modesty of 
 nature." Now, is it not obvious that the manner 
 which would be chaste and natural on the stage, 
 would, in the expression of the same sentiment, be 
 equally chaste and natural everywhere? The rea- 
 son why there is more gesture on the stage than 
 elsewhere, is because plays consist almost entirely 
 of emotion ; in the pulpit, senate, and bar, argu- 
 ment does or should preponderate. Now, no man, 
 in his senses, would be so absurd as to apply the 
 gesture which belongs to emotion, to the delivery of 
 an argument ; for that would not be to " suit the action 
 to the word, the word to the action" — -hence the 
 quantity of action exhibited on the stage will always 
 naturally and properly exceed that which belongs to 
 ony other theatre of public speaking. But the sub- 
 
 jects sometimes coincide — arguments are found in 
 plays — and the passions often appear, and properly 
 too, in the pulpit, senate, and bar — and whereon the 
 subjects do coincide, the manner should be the same. 
 Hence it is that the manner of action on the stage, 
 as exhibited by master performers, may be observed 
 and imitated to great advantage. Ministers of the 
 gospel may, perhaps, be startled at a proposition so 
 profane as that they should attend the theatre ; and 
 disgusted at an idea so absurd as that they should 
 transfer the manner of the theatre to the pulpit. 
 As to the profanity of the proposition, their acced- 
 ing to it or not is a question between themselves 
 and their sovereign judge ; I am not afraid of the 
 consequences of having made the proposition. I 
 know that dramatic composition has been polluted 
 by the most shameful licentiousness — on the exhibi- 
 tion of plays of that character, I, who am no divine, 
 would never attend. But are there not, on the 
 other hand, plays which inculcate the loftiest, the 
 most heroic, the most Christian virtues ? What sin 
 would be committed by their attending the repre- 
 sentation of such ? What is the. purpose of play- 
 ing? Let Shakespeare answer the question — 
 " whose end both at the first and now, was and is, 
 to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to 
 show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own image, 
 and the very age and body of the time, his form and 
 pressure." * I ask if the same be not also a part of 
 the duty of the pulpit ; and when the dramatic 
 writer attains this purpose purely, I cannot discern 
 what possible mischief there can be in listening to 
 his lectures. Do not those who from an idea of its 
 sinfulness refuse to attend the theatre, nevertheless 
 read, and with rapture too, the plays of Shake- 
 speare? If they do, where is the difference in point 
 of guilt between reading the plays one's self, and 
 hearing them read or recited by others ? It is from 
 my purpose to pursue this disquisition further. As 
 to the other branch of the supposed objection, trans- 
 ferring the manner of the theatre to the pulpit, I 
 will take the liberty to say that the transfer of all 
 that is chaste and natural would give to the pulpit, 
 an ease, a dignity, an animation, and an interest of 
 which at present it stands in the most direful need. 
 Who is not disgusted with the stiffness, the for- 
 mality, the slow, mechanically measured enunci- 
 ation, the nasal melody, the affected mouthings or 
 the coarse rusticity, the ear-crucifying sing-song, 
 and the delirious raving and shrieking, which too 
 often degrade the pulpit and defeat the very pur- 
 pose of tlie institution ? Has it never been the mis- 
 fortune of the reader to observe in what an infinite 
 variety of ways ministers contrive to murder that 
 beautiful and sublime exclamation of the Psalmist — 
 " Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth ! Heaven 
 and Karth are full of the majesty of thy glory 1" 
 One will recite it in the same time and tone that he 
 would read an advertisement in a newspaper; ano- 
 ther will whine over it, so as to excite just as much 
 interest as a schoolboy excites in whining over his 
 lesson ; another, with a smirk, will yelp over it, 
 " holy — holy — holy," as if he had just started the 
 game, to the great amusement of his congregation, 
 who feel no other impulse than to cry " hark for- 
 ward." I have no patience with men who thus in- 
 dolently and shamefully neglect the cultivation of a 
 correct manner, and ascend the pulpit only to mar, 
 deform, by their hideous manner, the work of in- 
 spiration — How different from all this was the man- 
 ner of the celebrated Duche, the chaplain of the old 
 Congress! He had studied the language of nature 
 j in the cartoons of Raphael, and learned from them 
 that the evangelic character loses nothing of its 
 dignity by the boldest attitude and most impressive 
 
622 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 east of features, when they comport with the subject 
 and the occasion. He had read the sacred scrip- 
 tures, too, with the eye of genius, as well as that of 
 faith ; and in the exclamation just referred to, it was 
 .impossible for him not to imagine the train of re- 
 flection which probably led to it, and the holy yet 
 enraptured manner in which it broke from the in- 
 spired poet. To recite this language of the psalmist 
 correctly, it was necessary to recite it in the very 
 6pirit in which it was first conceived ; and in doing 
 so, there was no danger that a man of taste and 
 judgment would overstep the modesty of nature. 
 There are probably some yet alive, beside myself, 
 who will remember Ditches mode of reciting it. 
 It was preceded by a pause in which his eyes were 
 raised with fearful awe, as if contemplating those 
 glories of the firmament which David has so sub- 
 limely depicted in the 19th psalm — his hands were 
 clasped on the pulpit before him — the admiration 
 depicted on his countenance, gradually swelled with 
 the truth of nature into a bolder expression, as the 
 wonders of the creation seemed to pass in review 
 before him, at the same time his clasped hands were 
 slowly and touchingly removed from the pulpit to 
 his breast — his heart, itself, seemed to expand with 
 the augmenting tide of his sensations — no sound was 
 heard, but that of the throbbing heart and convulsed 
 breath — the recitation was begun slowly — and in a 
 low and tremulous voice, as if repressed by the 
 awfid presence of the Deity, himself, " Holy ! Holy ! 
 Holy! Lord God of Sabaoth!" then his hands un- 
 clasped, his arms a little opened, and raised 
 
 "Heaven!" then his arms wide extended,, his 
 
 face beaming with a smile of rapturous gratitude 
 and admiration, and his brilliant voice liberated, and 
 swelling to the end of the sentence, in its fullest 
 richest tone — " and earth are full of the majesty 
 of thy glory." There was no one who did not 
 clearly perceive and deeply feel the whole beauty 
 of the apostrophe : There were few who did not in- 
 voluntarily start from their scats, with sympathetic 
 rapture. Yet among the drones of the present day, 
 this manner would be called theatrical, unworthy 
 of the pulpit, unworthy of imitation. It is the 
 common policy of dunces to decry that excellence 
 which they cannot reach. But it is not for the 
 mind, however good, to pass sentence oa appeals 
 made to the heart. Those arc the best judges of 
 Mr. Dvehc's manner, who had the happiness to hear 
 him; and they will support me in the assertion, 
 that his manner, so far from lowering the dignity 
 and solemnity of the service, gave them a hundred 
 fold force and power. I will venture to say that if 
 Mr. Ditches were the manner of the present day, 
 our country would not, in every quarter of it, ex- 
 hibit that spectacle so painful to the Christian's 
 heart, of churches neglected, tumbling in ruins, and 
 become almost the exclusive residence of the beasts 
 of the field and birds of the air. Our regular mi- 
 nisters may rail on, if they please, against the pre- 
 valence of fanaticism and superstition. The fault is 
 in themselves. People go to church, not to doze, 
 but to worship; and it is not wonderful that they 
 6hould prefer the man who makes them feel, to him 
 who makes them sleep. 
 
 Let it apt be understood that I am vindicating those 
 fops and petit maitres whom we sometimes see in the 
 pulpit ; whose frivolous gesticulations would dis- 
 grace even the theatre itself. No: I speak of that 
 majesty of action by which St. Paul made Felix 
 tremble ; and which is in the happiest harmony with 
 the sublime composition of the Bible itself. It is 
 this which I would have our ministers to cultivate ; 
 this, by which they might shake the souls of their 
 hearers, instead of standing like automata in the 
 
 sacred desk, and pouring through lips of wood, the 
 productions of others ; productions, which they do 
 not feel themselves, and consequently cannot make 
 others feel. 
 
 Yet these gentlemen who are so much afraid to 
 stir an arm or raise an eye, imagine the manner in 
 which Bossuet delivered his discourses. Are they 
 not satisfied that Bossuet. sustained, by the grandeur 
 of his manner, the boldest flights of his genius ; 
 that his action partook of that fervid spirit which in- 
 spired his orations ; that it kept pace with it, ascend- 
 ing with it, and kindled in its noblest conflagration I 
 — Yes ; Bossuet's was a soul of empyrean flame : 
 and pervaded his system with a force too strong to 
 permit any portion of it to remain indifferent, while 
 she was exhibiting her wondrous powers to others; 
 Bossuet's was a soul firm and intrepid in her own 
 strength ; she walked abroad at her ease, and pro- 
 duced, on every occasion, that consentaneous gran- 
 deur of movement, which consummated her power, 
 and made her irresistible. 
 
 If any one of our regular ministers should answer, 
 " Give me Bossuet's genius and I will give you his 
 action," — I reply, this is the very objection ; that 
 you do give us the works of his and other great ge- 
 niuses without their appropriate action. The ser- 
 mons which wc hear from the pulpit are frequently 
 eloquent in themselves ; yet from the cold com- 
 posure with which they are recited, it is evident 
 that they are the offspring of other minds: had they 
 been the proper children of those who exhibit them, 
 there would have been a parental warmth which 
 would infallibly have shown itself in their action. 
 
 1 pray that our ministers may reflect upon this » 
 subject ere it be too late. If they will not be con- 
 vinced by abstract argument, let them attend to the 
 facts which are passing before their eyes ; their own 
 discourses are composed with the utmost pur t/ and 
 elegance; the reasomi g good; the style, not only 
 correct, but adorned with the most beautiful figures 
 of speech : — what is it that carries away the people 
 from their discourses, at once chaste, strong, and 
 embellished, to the meeting-houses of dissenting mi- 
 nisters? On the one hand, indolence or vanity, un- 
 willing to acknowledge the mortifying truth, may 
 impute it to a popular fit of fanaticism : on the 
 other hand, vanity or delusion may impute it to 
 the superior truth of the doctrines which are taught 
 by the dissent ers ; but the fact is, that it proceeds 
 almost entirely from manner, and the mysterious 
 hold which this takes on human sympathy. The in- 
 teresting warmth, the anxious earnestness with 
 which the dissenter pours out his unpremeditated 
 effusions (however coarse), seize the human heart 
 with almost inextricable grasp, and enable him to 
 lead it whithersoever he will. You may say that 
 his action is redundant, ungraceful, vulgar, that it 
 violates all rule ; no matter ; let it be as distorted and 
 frantic as you please, as that of the Pythian priest- 
 ess : it is earnest ; it comes accompanied with a 
 voice choked with tears, and shows that the man's 
 whole soul is engaged for our good; he moves us; 
 alarms us ; melts us ; and sends us home agitated on 
 a subject of eternal importance. We find, too, that 
 these men discover a deep and accurate knowledge 
 of the human heart ; they anticipate the topics of 
 peace and consolation which the arch enemy of man- 
 kind will suggest to the alarmed soul, and by show- 
 ing us their origin they forbid us to repose upon 
 them. How different, how superior in point of at- 
 traction is all this to the soporific doses which are 
 administered from velvet cushions ! — If it should still 
 be urged that all this is fanaticism — I desire that 
 any sermon of Massillon's may be compared with 
 the most impassioned of those which are delivered 
 
WILLIAM WIRT. 
 
 G23 
 
 from the dissenter's desk. You "will find in Massil- 
 lon, indeed, the rarest beauties of cultivated genius, 
 the most powerful eloquence ; but it is eloquence 
 entirely void of ostentation ; it seems, indeed, to 
 burst from the man's heart in spite of himself, and 
 to come Accompanied with showers of tears just as 
 irrepressible. But you will find Mnssillou's sermons 
 marked with exactly the same strong characters 
 which distinguished the dissenter ; the same passion- 
 ate importunity addressed to sinners; tiie same 
 shuddering predictions of the fate which awaits the 
 impenitent; the same necessity for the regeneration 
 of the soul ; the same intimate knowledge of the 
 human heart, the same power of chasing a sin 
 through every fold and euve'.opemeut, and pursuing 
 and driving the sinner himself from every corner 
 and recess of his own deceitful breast ; the same 
 warnings against the arts of the devil in resisting 
 the work of grace in the soul; in short you will 
 find in Massillon, blended witli a personal meekness 
 and humility (which it was impossible for him to 
 affect, and which is in itself captivating in the high- 
 est degree) ami with an eloquence, almost super- 
 human, all the dissenter's earnestness, tears, en- 
 treaties, supplications; all his cries, his adjurations; 
 all his topics of persuasion and of alarm, all his en- 
 thusiasm, all his terror, all his raptures, and all 
 that the dealers in opiates now choose to cull fana- 
 ticism ; yet no one ever dared to call Massillon a 
 fanatic. Now the great doctrines which are 
 preached by the Human Catholic, the Protestant, 
 and the Dissenter, are the same, viz. the fall of man 
 — the mediation — and salvation by faith in the Re- 
 deemer. The subject being the same, it can be 
 only the diiferent manner of presenting it, which 
 constitutes the difference of effect; yet that differ- 
 ence we see is vast; and so it will ever continue, 
 while human nature remains the same and the Pro- 
 testant clergy refuse to be instructed by experience. 
 
 JEFFEESON AT MONTICE1.LO — FC.OM TIIE ECT.OGIUM OF ADAMS 
 AND JEFFKHSON. 
 
 The Mansion House at Monticcllo was built and 
 furuishe I ia the days of his prosperity. In its di- 
 mensions, its architecture, its arrangements and or- 
 nament*, it is such a one as became the character 
 and fortune of the man. It stands upon an elliptic 
 plain, formed by cutting down the apex of a moun- 
 tain ; and, on the west, stretching away to the north 
 and the south, it commands a view of the Blue 
 Ridge for a hundred and fifty miles, and bri: gs under 
 the eye one of the bol lest and most beautiful horizons 
 in the world: while, o i the east, it presents an ex- 
 tent of prospect bounded only by the spherical form 
 of the earth, in which nature seems to sleep in 
 eternal . repose, as if to form one of her finest con- 
 trasts with the rude and rolling grandeur on the 
 west. In the wide prospect, and scattered to the 
 north and south, are several detached mountains, 
 which contribute to animate and diversify this en- 
 chanting landscape ; and among them, to the south, 
 Willis's Mountain, which is so interestingly depicted 
 in his Notes. From this summit, the Philosopher 
 was wont to enjoy that spectacle, among the sub- 
 limest of Nature's operations, the looming of the 
 distant mountains; and to watch the motions of the 
 planets, and the greater revolution of the celestial 
 sphere. From this summit, ton, the patriot could 
 look down, with uninterrupted vision, upon the 
 wide expanse of the world around, for which he 
 considered himself born ; and upward, to the open 
 and vaulted heavens which he seemed to approach 
 as if to keep him continually in mind of his high 
 responsibility. It is indeed a prospect in which you 
 see and feel, at once, that nothing mean or little 
 
 could live. It is a scene fit to nourish those great 
 and high-souled principles which formed the ele- 
 ments of his character, and was a most noble and 
 appropriate post for such a sentinel over the rights 
 and liberties of man. 
 
 Approaching the house on the east, the visiter 
 instinctively paused, to cast around one thrilling 
 glance at this magnificent panorama ; and then 
 passed to the vestibule, where, if be hod not been 
 previously informed, he would immediately perceive 
 that lie was entering the house of no common man. 
 In the spacious and lofty hall which opens before 
 him, he marks no tawdry and unmeaning ornaments: 
 but before, on the right, on the left, all around, the 
 eye is struck and gratified with objects of science 
 and taste, so classed and arranged as to produce their 
 finest effect. On one side, specimens of sculpture 
 set out in, such order as to exhibit at a coup d'ceil, 
 the historical progress of that art; from the first 
 rude attempts of the aborigines of our country, up 
 to that exquisite and finished bust of the great 
 patriot himself, from the master hand of Caracci. 
 On the other side, the visiter sees displayed a vast 
 collection of specimens of Indian art, their paintings, 
 weapons, ornaments, and manufactures ; on another, 
 an array of the fossil productions of our country, 
 mineral and animal; the polished remains of those 
 colossal monsters that once trod our forests, and are 
 no more; and a variegated display of the branching 
 honours of those " monnrchs of the waste," that 
 still people the wilds of the American Continent. 
 
 From this hall he was ushered into a noble saloon, 
 from which the glorious landscape of the west again 
 bursts upon his view ; and which within is hung 
 thick around with the finest pro motions of the pen- 
 cil — historical paintings of the most striking sub- 
 jects from all countries, and all ages; the portraits 
 of distinguished men and patriots, both of Europe 
 and America, and medallions and engravings in end- 
 less profusion. 
 
 While the visiter was yet lost in the contempla- 
 tion of these treasures of the arts and sciences, he 
 was startled by the approach of a strong and 
 sprightly step, and turning with instinctive reverence 
 to the door of entrance, he was met by the tall, and 
 animated, and stately figure of the patriot himself — 
 his countenance beaming with intelligence and be- 
 nignity, and his outstretched hand, with its strong 
 and cordial pressare, confirming the courteous wel- 
 come of his lips. And then came that charm of 
 manner and conversation that passes all description 
 — so cheerful — so unassuming — so free, and easy, 
 and frank, and kind, and gay — that even the young, 
 and overawed, and embarrasse 1 visiter at once for- 
 got his fears, and felt himself by the side of an old 
 and familiar friend. 
 
 PATRICK. nEXKT — FEOM TnE 6KETCnES. 
 
 The following is the fullest description which the 
 author has been able to procure of Mr. Henry's 
 person. He was nearly six feet high ; spare, and 
 what may be called raw-bone 1, witli a slight stoop 
 of the shoulders — his complexion was dark, sun- 
 burnt, and sallow, without any appearance of blood 
 in his cheeks — his countenance grave, thoughtful, 
 penetrating, and strongly marked with the linea- 
 ments of deep reflection — the earnestness of his 
 manner, united with an habitual contraction or 
 knitting of his brows, and those lines of thought 
 with which his face was profusely furrowed, gave to 
 his countenance, at some times, the appearance of 
 seventy — yet such was the power which he had 
 over its expression, that he could shake off from it 
 in an instant all the sternness of winter, and robe it 
 in the brightest smiles of spring. His forehead was 
 
624 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 high and Etraight, yet forming a sufficient angle 
 with the lower part of his face — his nose somewhat 
 of the Roman stamp, though like that which we see 
 in the bust of Cicero, it was rather long, than 
 remarkable for its Caesarean form — of the colour of 
 his eyes, the accounts are almost as various as those 
 which we have of the colour of the ehamelion — they 
 are said to have been blue, grey, what Lavater calls 
 green, hazel, brown, and black— the fact seems to 
 have been, that they were of a bluish grej T , not 
 large ; and being deeply fixed in his head, overhung 
 by dark, long, aud full eye-brows, and farther 
 shaded by lashes that were both long and black, 
 their apparent colour was as variable as the lights 
 in which they were seen — but all concur in saying 
 that they were, unquestionably, the finest feature in 
 his face — brilliant — full of spirit, and capable of the 
 most rapidly shifting and powerful expression — at 
 one time piercing and terrible as those of liars, and 
 then again soft and tender as those of pity herself — 
 his cheeks were hollow — his chin long, but well 
 formed, and rounded at the end, so as to form a 
 proper counterpart to the upper part of his face. 
 " I find it difficult," says the correspondent from 
 whom I have borrowed this portrait, " to describe 
 his mouth ; in which there was nothing remarkable, 
 except when about to express a modest dissent from 
 some opinion on which lie was commenting — he 
 then had a sort of half smile, in which the want of 
 conviction was perhaps more strongly expressed, 
 than the satirical emotion, which probably prompted 
 it. His manner and address to the court and jury 
 might he deemed the excess of humility, diffidence, 
 and modesty. If, as rarely happened, he had occa- 
 sion to answer any remark from the bench, it was 
 impossible for meekness herself to assume a manner 
 less presumptuous — but in the smile of which I have 
 been speaking, you might anticipate the want of 
 conviction, expressed in his answer, at the moment 
 that he submitted to the superior wisdom of the 
 court, with a grace that would have done honour 
 to Westminster Hall. In his reply to counsel, his 
 remarks on the evidence, and on the conduct of 
 the parties, he preserved the same distinguished 
 deference and politeness, still accompanied, however, 
 by the never failing index of this sceptical smile, 
 where the occasion prompted." In 6hort, his fea- 
 tures were manly, bold, and well proportioned, full 
 of intelligence, and adapting themselves intuitively 
 to every sentiment of his mind, and every feeling of 
 his heart. His voice was not remarkable for its 
 sweetness; but it was firm, full of volume, and 
 rather melodious than otherwise. Its charms con- 
 sisted in the mellowness and fulness of its note, the 
 ease and variety of its inflections, the distinctness 
 of its articulation, the fine effect of its emphasis, the 
 felicity with which it attuned itself to every emo- 
 tion, and the vast compass which enabled it to 
 range through the whole empire of human passion, 
 from the deep and tragic half whisper of horror, to 
 the wildest exclamation of overwhelming rage. In 
 mild persuasion it was as soft and gentle as the 
 zephyr of spring ; while in rousing his countrymen 
 to arms, the winter storm that mars along the 
 troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. It 
 was at all times perfectly under his command ; or 
 rather, indeed, it seemed to command itself, and to 
 modulate its notes, most happily, to the sentiment 
 he was uttering. It never exceeded, or fell short of 
 the occasion. There was none of that long con- 
 tinued and deafening vociferation, which always 
 takes place when an ardent speaker has lost posses- 
 sion of himself — no monotonous clangour, no dis- 
 cordant shriek. Without being strained, it had that 
 body and enunciation which filled the most distant 
 
 ear, without distressing those which were nearest 
 him : hence it never became cracked or hoarse, even 
 in his longest speeches, but retained to the last all 
 its clearness and fulness of intonation, all the deli- 
 cacy of its inflection, all the charms of its emphasis, 
 and enchanting variety of its cadence. 
 
 His delivery was perfectly natural and well timed. 
 It has indeed been said, that, on his first rising, there 
 was a species of sub-cantus very observable by a 
 stranger, and rather disagreeable to him ; but that 
 in a very few moments even this itself became 
 agreeable, and seemed, indeed, indispensable to the 
 full effect of his peculiar diction and conceptions. 
 In point of time, he was very happy: there was no 
 slow and heavy dragging, no quaint and measured 
 drawling, with equidistant pace, no stumbling and 
 floundering among the fractured members of de- 
 ranged and broken periods, no undignified hurry 
 and trepidation, no recalling and recasting of sen- 
 tences as he went along, no retraction of one word 
 and substitution of another not better, and none of 
 those affected bursts of almost inarticulate impetu- 
 osity, which betray the rhetorician rather than dis- 
 play the orator. On the contrary, ever self-col- 
 lected, deliberate, and dignified, he seemed to have 
 looked through the whole period before he com- 
 menced its delivery ; and hence his delivery was 
 smooth, and firm, and well accented ; slow enough 
 to take along with him the dullest hearer, and yet 
 so commanding that the quick had neither the 
 power nor the disposition to get the start of him. 
 Thus he gave to every thought its full and appro- 
 priate force; and to every image all its radiance and 
 beauty. 
 
 No speaker ever understood better than Mr. 
 Henry, the true use and power of the pause ; and 
 no one ever practised it with happier effect. His 
 pauses were never resorted to, for the purpose of 
 investing an insignificant thought with false im- 
 portance; much less were they ever resorted to as 
 sl finesse, to gain time for thinking. The hearer was 
 never disposed to ask, " why that pause ?" nor to 
 measure its duration by a reference to his watch. 
 On the contrary, it always came at the very moment 
 when he would himself have wished it, in order to 
 weigh the striking and important thought which 
 had just been uttered ; and the interval was always 
 filled by the speaker with a matchless energy of 
 look, which drove the thought home through the 
 mind and through the heart. 
 
 His gesture, and this varying play of his features 
 and voice, were so excellent, so exquisite, that many 
 have referred his power as an orator principally to 
 that cause ; yet this was all his own, and his ges- 
 ture, particularly, of so peculiar a cast, that it is 
 said it would have become no other man. I do not 
 learn that it was very abundant ; for there was no 
 trash about it ; none of those false motions to which 
 undisciplined speakers are so generally addicted ; 
 no chopping nor sawing of the air ; no thumping of 
 the bar to express an earnestness, which was much 
 more powerfully, as well as more elegantly, ex- 
 pressed by his eye and his countenance. Whenever 
 he moved his arm, or his hand, or even his finger, or 
 changed the position of his body, it was always to 
 some purpose; nothing was inefficient ; every thing 
 told; every gesture, every attitude, every look, was 
 emphatic ; all was animation, energj r , and dignity. 
 Its great advantage consisted in this — that various, 
 bold, and original as it was, it never appeared to be 
 studied, affected, or theatrical, <*r " to overstep," in 
 the smallest degree, " the modesty of nature ;" for 
 he never made a gesture or assumed an attitude, 
 which did not seem imperiously demanded by the 
 occasion. Every look, every motion, every pause, 
 
JOHN PICKERING. 
 
 625 
 
 every start, -was completely filled and dilated by 
 the thought which he was uttering, and seemed in- 
 deed to form a part of the thought itself. His 
 action, however strong, was never vehement. He 
 was never seen rushing forward, shoulder foremost, 
 fury in Ins countenance, and frenzy in his voice, as 
 if to overturn the bar, and charge his audience 
 sword in hand. His judgment was too manly and 
 too solid, and his taste too true, to permit him to 
 indulge in any such extravagance. His good sense 
 and his self-possession never deserted him. In the 
 loudest storm of declamation, in the fiercest blaze of 
 passion, there was a dignity and temperance which 
 gave it seeming. He had the rare faculty of impart- 
 ing to his hearers all the excess of his own feelings, 
 and all the violence and tumult of his emotions, all 
 the dauntless spirit of his resolution, and all the 
 energy of his soul, without any sacrifice of his own 
 personal dignity, and withoit treating his hearers 
 otherwise than as rational beings. He was not the 
 orator of a day; and therefore sought not to build 
 his fame on the sandy basis of a false taste, fostered, 
 if not created, by himself. He spoke for immor- 
 tality ; and therefore raised the pillars of his glory 
 on the only solid foundation — the rock of nature. 
 
 JOHN PICKERING, 
 
 TnE distinguished jurist and philologist, was the 
 son of Ool. Timothy Pickering, the early Whig 
 leader of Salem, his native place, the fellow-sol- 
 dier of Washington, and his Secretary of State 
 from 1795 until his removal in the administration 
 of Adams in 1800 ; subsequently a member of Con- 
 gress, a member of the board of war in 1812, as 
 he had discharged numerous similar duties in the 
 Revolution, again member of Congress from 1814 
 to 1817, when he retired at that period to private 
 life, employing himself in agriculture. After the 
 war of the" Revolution, he lived in Pennsylvania, 
 and was delegated by that state to visit the 
 Western settlement", and adjust a controversy 
 which had been excited by the claims, of Con- 
 necticut emigrants. While residing near Wilkes- 
 barre, in the discharge' of this duty, he was 
 seized in his bed at night by a band of ruffians, 
 carried off to the forest, and exposed to various 
 outrages and privations, with the design of inti- 
 midation. After twenty days of this abduction, 
 he reappeared before his family. " So much," it 
 is said, " was lie altered by the sufferings and 
 hardships he had endured, that his children fled 
 from his presence affrighted by h ; s haggard, un- 
 shaven appearance, and his wife looked upon him 
 with consternation as upon an apparition."* 
 
 He died Jan. '39, 1829, in his eighty-fourth 
 year. He was always active in public life. His 
 writings were numerous, and consist of political 
 pamphlets, on questions of national policy, or of 
 a controversial character growing out of his 
 vigorous partisanship on the Federal side, occa- 
 sional addresses and orations, agricultural and 
 Other papers. His biting Review of the Corres- 
 pondence between the Hon. John, Adams and the 
 late William Cunningham, Esq., beginning in 
 1803 and ending in 1812, one of the most cele- 
 brated of his compositions, was published in 
 1824.t 
 
 * National Portrait Gallery, ed. 1834, vol. i. 
 
 t It is in this production he Dairies the personal att:ick of 
 John Adams, who had charged him in one of the Letters with 
 ambitious views, in these terms : — " Under the simple appear- 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
 John Pickering was born at Salem, Feb. 7, 
 1772. He was educated at Harvard, and was 
 then for some time abroad as Secretary to the 
 
 United States Minister W. L. Smith at Portugal, 
 and afterwards from 1799 to 1801 as Secretary to 
 Rufus King in London. At that date he returned 
 to America, and was admitted to the bar at 
 Salem. In 182 he removed to Boston, and in 
 1829 was made City Solicitor, continuing to hold 
 the office till within a short time of his death, 
 May 5, 1846. His intellectual life was divided 
 between his legal profession and his pursuits as a 
 scholar. His philological inquiries took a wida 
 range, including the extremes of Greek literature, 
 and of our native Indian languages. Of the 
 extent of his attainments in tiiese studies, his 
 eulogist, Charles Sumner, has given this animated 
 sketch : — " Unless," he says, " some memorandum 
 should be found among his papers, as was the 
 case with Sir William Jones, specifying the lan- 
 guages to which he had been devoted, it may bo 
 difficult to frame a list with entire accuracy. It 
 is certain that he was familiar with at least 
 | nine, — the English, French, Portuguese, Italian, 
 Spanish, German, Romaic, Greek, and Latin; of 
 these he spoke the first five. He was less fami- 
 I liar, though well acquainted, with the Dutch, 
 i Swedish, Danish, and Hebrew; and had explored, 
 j with various degrees of care, the Arabic, Turkish, 
 j Syriac, Persian, Coptic, Sanscrit, Chinese, Cochin- 
 ■ Chinese, Russian, Egyptian hieroglyphics, the 
 Malay in several dialects, and particularly the 
 Indian languages of America and of the Poly- 
 nesian islands. His labors span immeasurable 
 spaces in the world's history, — embracing the 
 distant, primeval Sanscrit ; the hieroglyphics of 
 Egypt, now awakening from their mute sleep of 
 centuries ; the polite and learned tongues of 
 ancient and modern Europe ; the languages of 
 Mohammedanism; the various dialects of tho 
 forests of North America, and of the sandal- 
 groves of the Pacific ; only closing with a lingua 
 franca, from an unlettered tribe on the coast of 
 Africa, to which his attention had been called 
 even after the illness which ended in his death."* 
 In 1810 he published A Vocabulary, or Collec- 
 tion of Words and Phrases which hare been sup- 
 posed to be peculiar to the United Stales of Ame- 
 rica. His Greek and English Lexicon on the 
 basis of Schrevelius appeared in 1826. For an 
 enumeration of his other writings, we are indebted 
 to an article in the Encijclopcedia Americana.^ 
 
 ' ance of a bald head and straight hair, and under professions of 
 
 1 profound republicanism, he conceals an ardent ambition, en- 
 vious of every superior, and impatient of obscurity." This 
 
 , was Pickering's reply : — " My 'bald head and straight hair' aro 
 
 ; what nature has given me; and I have been content with her 
 arrangements; they are not a fit subject for reproach. Mr. 
 
 ■ Adams's friend Cunningham reminds him, that it was rather 
 unfortunate for him to attempt to degrade Hamilton, by calling. 
 
 ; him 'the little man;' seeing, though with less flesh, ho but- 
 
 I passed in stature both him and his son." 
 
 * Sumner's Phi Beta Kappa Address, 1S46. 
 t Supplementary vol. xiv. Art. Pickering. 
 
626 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 To the Memoirs of the American Academy ho 
 contributed articles On the Adoption of a Uni- 
 form Orthography for the Indian Languages of 
 North America; on the Pronunciation of the 
 Greek Language; on Father Basle and on Lord 
 North's Island. In the North American Review- 
 are to he found his Observations on the Impor- 
 tance of Greek Literature (1820), a review of 
 Du Ponceau's Dissertation on the Chinese System 
 of Writing, in volume forty-eight, and a paper on 
 the Cochin-Chinese language, in volume fifty-two. 
 To the Encyclopaedia Americana he contributed 
 an article On the Indian Languages of America. 
 He was a contributor to The Collections of the 
 Massachusetts Historical Society, the New York 
 Review, the American Quarterly Review, and the 
 American Jurist. His chief legal publications 
 are an article on The Agrarian Laws in the 
 Encyclopaedia Americana, an article on. Egyptian 
 Jurisprudence in the fifty-first volume of the 
 North American Review, a Lecture on the Alleged 
 Uncertainty of the Law, and a Review of the In- 
 ternational McLeod Question. He also delivered 
 a eulogy on Dr. Bowditch, and an address before 
 the American Oriental Society. 
 
 The prominent traits of Pickering's moral life 
 are alluded to by Sumner in his mention of " his 
 modesty, his sweetness of temper, his simplicity 
 of life, his kindness to the young, his sympathy 
 with studies of all kinds. Ids sensibility to beauty, 
 his conscientious character, his passionless mind."* 
 
 NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 
 Nathaniel, the fourth son of Habakkulc and 
 Mary Ingersoll Bowditch, was born at Salem, 
 Massachusetts, March 26, 1773. His father, after 
 following, as a shipmaster, the calling of his 
 ancestors for several generations, retired from the 
 sea, and engaged in the business of a cooper. He 
 could not afford to bestow upon any of his family 
 of seven children any advantages of education 
 beyond those afforded by the common schools of 
 the town, and these they enjoyed for a few years 
 only, ,is Nathaniel was summoned at the early 
 age of ten to work in his shop. He was soon 
 afterwards apprenticed to a ship-chandler, and 
 while serving his time, gave significant evidence 
 of his mathematical talents, by devoting to the 
 slate every spare moment which was not occu- 
 pied in the perusal of some book. He was so in- 
 defatigable a reader, that at an early age he went 
 through an entire encyclopaedia letter by letter. 
 On'thc 11th of January, 1795, Bowditch sailed 
 
 from Salem as clerk to Captain Henry Prince, of 
 the ship Henry, for the Lie of Bourbon. The 
 vessel returned after a year's absence, and he 
 sailed a second time, as supercargo, in the Astrasa, 
 to Lisbon, Madeira, and Manilla. A third voyage 
 followed to the Mediterranean, and a fourth to the 
 East Indies, succeeded by others in the same 
 direction, until the year 180±, when he left the 
 
 * Address, p. 8. 
 
 sea and became president of a Marine Insurance 
 Company in his native city. 
 
 During his seafaring life he took a deep interest 
 in the instruction of sailors in navigation, and 
 with such success, that the fact of having sailed 
 with him became a strong recommendation to 
 seamen who had enjoyed that privilege, and was 
 often the cause of their promotion. He was at 
 the same time a thorough student, acquiring 
 Latin in order to master Newton's Principia; 
 French, to obtain access to the valuable mathe- 
 matical works in that language; and Spanish, 
 German, and Italian, for general literary pur- 
 poses. 
 
 In 1800 he published his New American Prac- 
 tical Navigator, a work which originated in a 
 series of corrections wdiich he commenced of John 
 Hamilton Moore's book on the same subject. 
 These grew so numerous, that he wisely judged it 
 best to publish an independent work. It became 
 widely successful, and is the universally adopted 
 guide in the American marine, and to a great 
 extent in the naval service of England and 
 France. 
 
 Happening, in 1802, to be detained in Boston 
 by a contrary witid on the Commencement day 
 of Harvard, he strolled to the church in which 
 the exercises were held, and had the surprise and 
 gratification of hearing his name called as a reci- 
 pient of the degree of Master of Arts. It was the 
 first and most welcome of a long series of similar 
 public recognitions of his services. 
 
 In 1806 he published an extremely valuable 
 chart of the harbors of Salem, Beverly, Marble- 
 head, and Manchester, and in 1823 removed to 
 Boston, to take charge as Actuary of the newly 
 formed Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance 
 Company, an office which he retained for the 
 remainder of his life. "While thus occupied, he was 
 complimented by the. offer of the Hollis Professor- 
 ship of Harvard College, of the Professorship of 
 Mathematics in the Univer-ity of Virginia, and of 
 the Professorship of Mathematics at West Point : 
 so that his ability was substantially recognised by 
 the whole country. Meanwhile he wrote papers 
 on astronomy for the transactions of the Ameri- 
 can Academy of Arts and Sciences, contributed 
 to the Analyst and Mathematical Diary edited 
 by Dr. Adrain, wrote articles for the American 
 edition of Rees's Cyclopaedia, the article on Mo- 
 dern Astronomy in the twentieth volume of the 
 North American Review, and an account of the 
 comet of 1806 in the fourth volume of the Month- 
 ly Anthology. 
 
 In 1829, the first volume of his great work, the 
 translation and amplification of La Place's Mecha- 
 nique Celeste, appeared. In studying the original 
 work, Bowditch had frequently been arrested by 
 the want of demonstration of the means by which 
 results had been arrived at, the author presup- 
 posing a greater familiarity with the subject on 
 the part of his reader than could reasonably be 
 predicated of any but himself. In Bowditch's own 
 words, "I never come across one of La Place's 
 ' Thus it plainly appears,' without feeling sure that 
 I have got hours of hard study before me to fill up 
 the chasm, and find out and show how it plainly 
 appears." In the task of filling up these chasms, 
 and presenting the whole in a form for English 
 readers, he succeeded so well, that La Place is 
 
JOHN RANDOLPH. 
 
 627 
 
 said to have remarked, " I am sure that Dr. Bow- 
 ditch comprehends my work, for he has not only 
 detected my errors, but has shown me how I 
 came to fall into them." He commenced the 
 work in 1815, and it formed the constant occupa- 
 tion of his laborious life up to the time of his 
 decease. The second volume appeared in 1832, 
 and the third in 1834. Each of the three con- 
 tains about a thousand quarto pages. He was 
 attacked, while engaged in correcting the proof 
 sheets of the fourth, by a disease which proved 
 fatal, but continued his occupation in the inter- 
 vals of relief from pain almost until the time of 
 his death. He refused to allow its publication by 
 subscription, waiting until his means would allow 
 him to bear the expense of the issue of five 
 volumes of about a thousand pages each, say- 
 ing that he would rather spend a thousand dol- 
 lars a year for such an object than in keeping a 
 carriage. The wjrk met with a better sale than 
 he anticipated, but was still a source of pecuniary 
 losf to him. 
 
 Dr. B iwditch was an eminently practical busi- 
 ' ness man, and executed the important moneyed 
 trusts co nmitted to him by his official position 
 with great success. He ace >m dished the great 
 results of his life by untiring and systematic in- 
 dustry. He rose early, in winter two hours 
 before dawn, and when not occupied in his office, 
 was almjst always to be found in his library, 
 where it was his delight to be surrounded by his 
 family, an affectionate disposition forming one of 
 tb.3 many fine traits of his character. He went 
 out but little, but w.is always glad to see his 
 friends, taking great delight in social intercourse 
 anl lively onversation. He was universally 
 esteemed for the purity of his life, his integrity, 
 and cousistent course. He was familiarly known, 
 in allusion perhaps to his moral as well as scien- 
 tific career, as " the Great Pilot." His last disease 
 was a scirrhus of the stomach, which for four 
 we.'ks before his death rendered it impossible for 
 him to swallow solid food or scarcely any liquid. 
 He suffered little from hunger, hut continually 
 from thirst, which was partially relieved by 
 m listening his lips with cold water. His frame 
 wasted away, but his mental faculties remained 
 unclouded, and his last act on the morning of his 
 death was to recognise and address with the 
 feeble powers of sight and voice which remained 
 ' to him, each member of his family gathered 
 around his couch. " You see," he said, " I can 
 distinguish you all, and I now give you my part- 
 ing blessing. The time is come; Lord, now 
 lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, accord- 
 ing to thy word." This was on Friday, March 
 16th, 1838. He was buried on the following 
 Sunday morning, beneath Trinity Church, Bos- 
 ton. 
 
 The merits of Bowditch entitle him to a high 
 rank among the mathematicians of the world. 
 They have been carefully stated by Pickering in 
 his Eulogy before the Academy of Arts and 
 Sciences.* His commentary was an original 
 work, and he made many discoveries of his own. 
 
 Notices of Bowditch's Life and Character ap- 
 peared shortly after his death, in the Eulogy 
 
 * May 29, 1S3S. 
 
 j delivered at the request of the Corporation of 
 ' Salem, by Judge Daniel Appleton White, and in 
 - the discourse of the Rev. Alexander Young. 
 These celebrate the sincerity, simplieit} 7 , and 
 modesty of his character. His vivacity is re- 
 corded in an anecdote preserved by Judge White: 
 — " A late venerable lady, as remarkable for her 
 sagacity as for her love of goodness, after her 
 first interview with Dr. Bowditch, observed, ' I 
 admire that man, for he is a live man.' He was 
 truly a live man in his whole nature and consti- 
 tution, in his mind, conscience, soul, and body. 
 Life was in his every thought, feeling, and action. 
 So rapid were his thoughts on all subjects, that 
 his judgment would often appear intuitive to 
 those who c >uld not follow his mind in its logical 
 process, or perceive the steps to its conclusions. 
 An instantaneous spring of hearty glee or mental 
 delight, would sometimes, notwithstanding his 
 natural and delicate sense of decorum, set all 
 rules of etiquette at defiance, and exhibit itself 
 in the same open and joyous manner, whether he 
 were at the fireside of a friend, or at the gover- 
 nor's council-board."* 
 
 JOHN RANDOLPH. 
 JonM Randolph was born at Oawsons, the estate 
 of Col. Theodorick Bland, his maternal grand- 
 father, Prince George County, Virginia, June 2, 
 1773. He was the son of a wealthy planter, and 
 descended in the seventh degree from Pocahontas. 
 When a little over two years old he lost his 
 father. He was, however, tenderly reared by his 
 mother, who in 1778 was married to St. George 
 Tucker. His delicate constitution prevented his 
 engaging in the usual athletic sports of childhood, 
 and at a very early age he acquired a taste for 
 books, his first favorites being the Fairy Tales, 
 the stories in the Spectator, Shakespeare, and 
 Voltaire's Charles XII. In 1781 the family were 
 obliged to leave their residence at Matoax, in con- 
 sequence of the invasion of Virginia by Arnold. 
 Randolph was soon after placed at the school of 
 Walker Maury at Orange County, and on the 
 removal of the establishment to Williamsburg, 
 followed his teacher to that place. After passing 
 a few months at Princeton and Columbia Colleges, 
 he completed his course at William and Mary, and 
 studied law with his uncle, Edmund Randolph, at 
 Philadelphia. In 1794 he returned to Virginia, 
 and on coming of age in the same year entered on 
 the personal management of his large estate. In 
 1799 he became a candidate of the Republican 
 party for Congress, in the Charlotte district. His 
 first speech was made upon the hustings at the 
 March court, and was an answer to an address on 
 the Federal side by Patrick Henry, who had been 
 induced to overcome his early objections to the 
 recently adopted constitution, and run as a candi- 
 date for the Legislature. The occasion felt to be 
 the last on which Henry could ever appear before 
 the public, by whom he was idolized, attracted a 
 great concourse, who listened with interest to the 
 young man as well as the veteran. Both, though 
 representing opposite opinions, were elected. 
 
 Randolph, with the exception of the three 
 intervals of two year? each, retained his scat in 
 
 * Eulogy on the Life anrl Character of >iathaniol Bowditch, 
 Salem. Encyclopaedia Americana, Supplt. 
 
628 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the House of Representatives for thirty years. 
 He was a thorough-going advocate of the doctrine 
 of state rights. His first speech was in support 
 
 &/Z/*sL 
 
 -ft^£t 
 
 of a hill to reduce the army, in which some un- 
 guarded expressions respecting the military pro- 
 fession led to a scene a short time after at the 
 theatre, where some officers of the army took 
 occasion of points in the play to make remarks 
 offensive to Randolph, who communicated a state- 
 ment of the affair to Adams, who brought it 
 before Congress, where a report was made that 
 no " breach of the privileges of the House had 
 been committed by the offenders." This was 
 rejected, but no further action taken. 
 
 In the question of the purchase of Louisiana, 
 Randolph sided with Jefferson. He opposed the 
 embargo, the war of 1812, the re-charter of the 
 United States Bank, and the Missouri Com- 
 promise. One of his most marked efforts was his 
 speech in 1 8-22 against a resolution which had 
 been offered expressing the sympathy for the 
 Greeks then struggling for independence. A 
 similar movement was at the same time in pro- 
 gress in South America. In 1826, after the 
 appointment by Adams of Clay as Secretary of 
 State, Randolph referred to the affair as "the 
 coalition of Blifil and Black George — the com- 
 bination, unheard of till then, of the puritan with 
 the blackleg." This led to a challenge from Clay. 
 The celebrated duel which followed is described 
 by Randolph's biographer. 
 
 " The night before the duel," says General James 
 Hamilton, of South Carolina, " Mr. Randolph sent 
 for me. I found him calm, but in a singularly kind 
 and confiding mood. He told me that he had some- 
 thing on his mind to tell me. He then remarked, 
 'Hamilton, I have determined to receive, without 
 returning, Clay's fire ; nothing shall induce me to 
 harm a hair of his head ; I will not make his wife a 
 widow, or his children orphans. Their tears would 
 be shed over his grave ; hut when the sod of Virginia 
 rests on my bosom, there is not in this wide world 
 one individual to pay this tribute upon mine.' His 
 eyes filled, and resting his head upon his hand, we 
 remained some moments silent. I replied, ' My dear 
 friend (for ours was a sort of posthumous friendship, 
 bequeathed by our mothers), I deepty regret that 
 you have mentioned this subject to me ; for you call 
 upon me to go to the field and to see you shot down, 
 or to assume the responsibility, in regard to your 
 own life, in sustaining your determination to throw 
 it away. But on this subject, a man's own con- 
 science and his own bosoui are his best monitors. I 
 will not advise, but under the enormous and unpro- 
 voked personal insult you have offered Mr. Clay, I 
 cannot dissuade. I feel bound, however, to com- 
 municate to Colonel Tattnall your decision.' He 
 begged me not to do so, and said, ' he was very 
 much afraid that Tattnall would take the studs and 
 refuse to go out with him.' I, however, sought 
 Colonel Tattnall, and we repaired about mid- 
 Eight to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, whom we found 
 reading Milton's great poem. For some moments he 
 did not permit us to say one word in relation to the 
 approaching duel ; and he at once commenced one 
 of those delightful criticisms on a passage of this 
 
 poet, in which he was wont so enthusiastically to 
 indulge. After a pause, Colonel Tattnall remarked, 
 ' Mr. Randolph, I am told you have determined not 
 to return Mr. Clay's fire; I must say to you, my dear 
 sir, if I am only to go out to see you shot down, you 
 must find some other friend.' Mr. Randolph re- 
 marked that it was his determination. After much 
 conversation on the subject, I induced Colonel Tatt- 
 nall to allow Mr. Randolph to take his own course, 
 as his withdrawal, as one of his friends, might lead 
 to very injurious misconstructions. At last, Mr. 
 Randolph, smiling, said, ' Well, Tattnall, I promise 
 you one thing, if I see the devil in Clay's eye, and 
 that with malice prepense he means to take my life, 
 I may change my mind.' A remark I knew he made 
 merely to propitiate the anxieties of his friend. 
 
 " Mr. Clay and himself met at 4 o'clock the suc- 
 ceeding evening, on the banks of the Potomac. But 
 he saw ' no devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fearless, 
 and expressing the mingled sensibility and firmness 
 which belonged to the occasion. 
 
 " I shall never forget this scene, as long as I live. 
 It has been my misfortune to witness several duels, 
 but I never saw one, at least in its sequel, so deeply 
 affecting. The sun was just setting behind the blue 
 hills of Randolph's own A r irginia. Here were two 
 of the most extraordinary men our country in its 
 prodigality had produced, about to meet in mortal 
 combat. Whilst Tattnall was loading Randolph's 
 pistols I approached my friend, I believed, for the 
 last time; I took his hand; there was not in its 
 touch the quivering of one pulsation. He turned to 
 me and said, 'Clay is calm, but not vindictive — I 
 hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event ; remember 
 this.' On handing him his pistol, Colonel Tattnall 
 sprung the hair-trigger. Mr. Randolph said, ' Tatt- 
 nall, although I am one of the best shots in Virginia, 
 with either a pistol or gun, yet I never fire with the 
 hair-trigger ; besides, I have a thick buckskin glove 
 on, winch will destroy the delicacy of my touch, 
 and the trigger may fly before I know where I am.' 
 But, from his great solicitude for his friend, Tattnall 
 insisted upon hairing the trigger. On taking their 
 position, the fact turned out as Mr. Randolph anti- 
 cipated ; his pistol went off before the word, with 
 the muzzle down. 
 
 "The moment this event took place, General 
 Jesup, Mr. Clay's friend, called out that he would 
 instantly leave the ground with his friend, if that 
 occurred again. Mr. Clay at once exclaimed, it was 
 entirely an accident, and begged that the gentleman 
 might be allowed to go on. On the word being 
 given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr. Randolph 
 discharging his pistol in the air. The moment Mr. 
 Clay saw that Mr. Randolph had thrown away his 
 fire, with a gush of sensibility, he instantly ap- 
 proached Mr. Randolph, and said with an emotion I 
 never can forget: — ' I trust in God, my dear sir, you 
 are untouched ; after what has occurred, I would 
 not have harmed you for a thousand worlds.' "* 
 
 In. 1829, declining a re-election, he retired from 
 Congress. He was soon after chosen a member 
 of the convention for the revision of the constitu- 
 tion of his state, and distinguished himself in that 
 body by his opposition to change. One of his 
 most celebrated speeches was called forth in this 
 convention on a proposal to provide the mode in 
 which future amendments should be made in the 
 new instrument. This is one of its marked pas- 
 sages : — 
 
 * Benton has also given a history of this affair. — Thirty Tears 1 
 View, i. TO. 
 
DAVID HITCHCOCK 
 
 629 
 
 Doctor Franklin, who, in shrewdness, especially in 
 all that related to domestic life, was never excelled, 
 used to say that two movings were equal to one fire. 
 And gentlemen, as if they were afraid that this 
 besetting sin of republican governments, this rerum 
 novaruin labido (to us a very homely phrase, but one 
 that comes pat to the purpose), this maggot of inno- 
 vation, would cease to bite, are here gravely making 
 provision that this Constitution, which we should 
 consider as a remedy for all the ills of the body 
 politic, may itself be amended or modified at any 
 future time. Sir, I am against any such provision. 
 I should as soon think of introducing into a marriage 
 contract a provision for divorce, and thus poisoning 
 the greatest blessing of mankind at its very source— 
 at its fountain head. He has seen little, and has 
 reflected less, who does not know that " necessity" is 
 the great, powerful, governing principle of affairs 
 here. Sir, I am not going into that question, which 
 puzzled Pandemonium— the question of liberty and 
 necessity : 
 
 Free will, fixed fate, foreknowledge absolute ; 
 
 but I do contend that necessity is one principal instru- 
 ment of all the good that man enjoys. The hap- 
 piness of the connubial union itself depends greatly 
 on necessity ; and when you touch this, you 
 touch the arch, the key-stone of the arch, on which 
 the happiness and well-being of society is founded. 
 Look at the relation of mister and slave (that oppro- 
 brium, in the opinion of some gentlemen, to all 
 civilized society and all free government). Sir, 
 there are few situations in life where friendships so 
 6trong and so lasting are formed, as in that very 
 relation. The slave knows that'he is bound indisso- 
 lubly to his master, and must, from necessity, remain 
 always under his control. The master knows that 
 he is bound to maintain and provide for his slave so 
 long as he retains him in his possession. And each 
 party accommodates himself to his situation. I 
 have seen the dissolution of many friendships — such, 
 at least, as were so called ; but I have seen that of 
 master and slave endure so long as there remained a 
 drop of the blood of the master to which the slave 
 could cleave. Where is the necessity of this provi- 
 sion in the Constitution ? Where is the use of it ? 
 Sir, what are we about ? Have we not been undoing 
 what the wiser heads — I must be permitted to say 
 so — yes, sir, what the wiser heads of our ancestors 
 did more than half a century ago ? Can any one 
 believe that we, by any amendments of ours, by any 
 of our scribbling on that parchment, by any amulet, 
 any legerdemain — charm — Abracadabra — of ours 
 can prevent our sons from doing the same thing — 
 that is, from doing as they please, just as we are 
 doing as we please? It is impossible. Who can 
 bind posterity ? When I hear of gentlemen talk of 
 making a Constitution for " all time," and intro- 
 ducing provisions into it for " nil time," and yet see 
 men here that are older than the Constitution we 
 are about to destroy — (I am older myself than the 
 present Constitution — it was established when I was 
 a boy) — it reminds me of the truces and the peaces 
 of Europe. They always begin: "In the name of 
 the most holy and undivided Trinity," and go on to 
 declare, " there shall be perfect and perpetual peace 
 and unity between the subjects of such and such 
 potentates for all time to come ;" and in less than 
 seven years they are at war again. 
 
 A short time previous to this Genera! Jackson, 
 on his accession to office, tendered Randolph the 
 mission to Russia. The office was accepted, and 
 in August, 1830, the new minister arrived at his 
 post. He left St. Petersburgh soon after in conse- 
 
 quence of ill health, and in October, 1831, return- 
 ed home. His last political act was to speak to 
 popular assemblies throughout his state iH opposi- 
 tion to the proclamation of General Jackson 
 against nullification, when almost too feeble to 
 stand. He determined on another voyage to 
 Europe for the benefit of his health, and left home 
 to embark at Philadelphia. He sto] ped at Wash- 
 ington, where he had an interesting interview 
 with 1 lis old antagonist Clay. He was exposed 
 on his arrival in Philadelphia, on a stormy evening, 
 to the cold and rain, his disease increased, and 
 on the nineteenth of May reached its fatal termi- 
 nation. 
 
 Randolph's mental, like his physical organiza- 
 tion, was of the most sensitive nature. Though 
 an active public man, he was morbidly fond of 
 retirement. Thoroughly honest, he scorned low 
 means to attain high position, and his great 
 sarcastic powers did not tend to increase the 
 number of his friends. He was powerful in invec- 
 tive, and not sparing in its use. His speeches 
 were always direct, and produced great effect. 
 Some of his pointed phrases, like that of " mas- 
 terly inactivity," by which he indicated the course 
 of passive resistance he deemed proper to be pur- 
 sued by the opposition to the Adams administra- 
 tion, have already passed into proverbs, as his 
 eccentricities, doubtless in an exaggerated form, 
 have furnished material for collectors of anecdote. 
 His temper was quick, his antipathies strong, but 
 his disposition was kindly, and he was a thorough- 
 going friend. Some of the most pleasant portions 
 of his biography are these which admit us into 
 his intimacies. He became deeply impressed by 
 the truths of the Christian religion, and was a 
 devout member of the Ancient Church of the Old 
 Dominion, and of the England he so much 
 admired. He greatly enjoyed his visits to London 
 from his sympathy with the associations of the 
 great historic city, and we have heard a story of 
 his walking through the Strand with his arms 
 crossed on his breast in token of the reverence of 
 a pilgrim. 
 
 By his will he manumitted his slaves, three 
 hundred in number, and provided for their sup- 
 port. The validity of the instrument was dis- 
 puted by the family on the ground of insanity in 
 the testator, but was sustained by the court. 
 That Randolph was at times insane there appears 
 little reason to doubt. He felt his liability to 
 attacks of this kind deeply. "I have lived," he 
 said to Col. Benton, "in dread of insanity." 
 The remark may be taken as a key to much that 
 is strange in his career. 
 
 His letters, interspersed through Garland's Life, 
 present the man for the most part in his genial 
 moments. A separate selection "from among 
 several hundred" as the preface informs us, 
 Letters of John Randolph, to a Young Relative : 
 embracing a Scries of Years, from Early Youth, 
 to Mature Manhood, was published in 1834.* 
 
 DATED HITdlCOCK. 
 A volume of the Poetical Works of Darid Hitch- 
 cock was published at Boston in 1806, with a 
 
 * Philadelphia : Carey, Lea, and Blancliard. 8vo. pp. 254. 
 Benton's Thirty Years' View, i. 473. Party Leaders; by Jo. G. 
 Baldwin, pp. 135. Hugh A. Garland's Life of Randolph. 
 
630 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 prefatory memoir which, in connexion with the 
 merits of the verses, furnishes mutter for a pass- 
 ing notice. The chief poem of the volume, oc- 
 tosyllabic measure, is in four parts, and entitled, 
 The Shade of Plato: or a Defence of Religion, 
 Morality, and Government. It is written with 
 remarkable ease and smoothness. The Shade of 
 Plato appears, to clear up objections to the moral 
 government of the world, in the question of fate 
 and free-will, and " vindicate the ways of God to 
 man," closing with some shrewd and sober ex- 
 postulations on the tendency to revolutionary 
 principles in vogue with the Jacobinical doctrines 
 at the beginning of the century. There were 
 many lessons at that time from pulpit and editor's 
 desk from the following text. — 
 
 At this, I ask'd, is injury done, 
 
 To say there's twenty gods or One ? 
 
 What matter, if men are sincere, 
 
 How many deities they fear? 
 
 Whether they rev'rence Three in One, 
 
 Or pay their homage to the sun ; 
 
 Or worship Apis, Jove, or Baal, 
 
 Or own no deity at all? 
 
 Of what avail religious creeds, 
 
 If men are honest in their deeds? 
 
 If they'll not lie, nor cheat, nor steal? 
 
 Nor interrupt the public weal? 
 
 If they the gen'ral good pursue, 
 
 What more have mortals here to do? 
 
 Why stick at falsehood, theft, or fraud ? 
 If men may disbelieve a God, 
 And their professions be sincere, 
 Pray tell me what they have to fear ? 
 If this belief be rooted firm, 
 Duty must seem a senseless term ; 
 And men, with passions to entice, 
 May range the crooked maze of vice, 
 Till life's contingent scene is clos'd, 
 Like tapers to the wind expos'd. 
 
 Tis faith in one All-Seeing Eye, 
 That makes mankind themselves deny: 
 That does licentiousness control ; 
 That curbs the proud, rebellious soul ; 
 And did your race this thought forego, 
 No bounds to violence below ; 
 Kot conscience, nor the world's applause, 
 Nor magistrates, nor civil laws ; 
 Nor monarchs, with despotic frown, 
 Could keep the tide of folly down. 
 ******* 
 
 Yet plain as is the sacred truth, 
 It seems in modern days uncouth ; 
 And now in reason's boasted school, 
 Is lash'd with boundless ridicule ; 
 Now human wisdom fain would prove, 
 That there's no God who rules above; 
 That all this boundless universe, 
 Was once a huge ungovern'd mass ; 
 A vast, stupendous whirligig, 
 Dancing to one Eternal jig, 
 Till by an accident, outright, 
 Matter on matter chane'd to light ; 
 Substance, from one confused storm. 
 All rush'd to embryotic form, 
 And chaos, once convuls'd with jars, 
 Produc'd the sun, and moon, and stars. 
 And this terraqueous planet here, 
 Without a God to interfere. 
 
 And are these philosophic rules ? 
 Then tell me, ye enlighten'd fools, 
 Whether an accidental case, 
 Could balance worlds in empty space 
 
 And bound their course thro' ether's realm. 
 Without a pilot or a helm. 
 
 "The Knight and Quack: or a Looking-glass 
 for Impostors in Physic, Philosophy, or Govern- 
 ment ; an Allegorical Poem," illustrates the 
 same views of the world ; while the remaining 
 poem, " The Subtlety of Foxes," is a well drawn 
 fable, exhibiting the logic of might over right. 
 
 The author of these verses was born at Beth- 
 lem, Litchfield County, Ct., in 1773, the son of a 
 poor and honest shoemaker, who managed, we 
 are told, in a "sketch of the author's life" pre- 
 fixed to his volume, to send the son to school 
 " when want of money or clothing did not pre- 
 vent." The father died in 1790. His bedside 
 w;is tended by his affectionate and serious-minded 
 son, who wrote some of his earliest verses, para- 
 phrases of one of the Psalms, and of a portion of 
 Luke, " principally in the night, while watching 
 with his father in his last sickness." Having lost 
 that protector, he worked at farming with one of 
 the select men of the town for five months, and 
 was then bound apprentice to a shoemaker, re- 
 maining under the direction of a guardian whom 
 he chose. That he chafed a little under this course 
 of life among these overseersis not to he wondered 
 at, yet, as the sketch naively says, "though ho 
 might by ignorance or inadvertence sometimes 
 deserve their displeasure, still, as he never received 
 the average sum of one dollar per month (ex- 
 clusive of board) for thirty-four months' work, 
 he could not acense himself, on the whole, of 
 being in the least degree prejudicial to their in- 
 terests." At the age of twenty he practised his 
 calling for himself at West Stockbridge, and Great" 
 Harrington in Mass. ; his first earnings of three 
 or four dollars a month being "laid out in pur- 
 chasing clothing to supply the place of a few rags, 
 which, at that time, had become very unfashion- 
 able apparel for persons of his age." At twenty- 
 six he married, and at thirty-two reports himself, 
 in the preface to his book, as poor and laborious, 
 but enjoying " peace and contentment, with the 
 addition of three children to his family, upon 
 whom he dotes almost as much as the opulent do 
 upon their riches." This is all we know of David 
 Hitchcock. The Shade of Plato is certainly a 
 remarkable production under the circumstances, 
 to have been hammered out between the blows 
 on the lapstone. 
 
 ■WILLIAM B1GLLVW. 
 
 William Biglow was born in Natick, Mass., 
 September 22, 1773. In an account of his early 
 years, published in one of the numerous periodi- 
 cals, the Federal Orrery, to which he contributed, 
 he says : — 
 
 I was born in a small country village, of reputa- 
 ble industrious parents, at a time when they were 
 as poor as poverty herself. Nothing remarkable 
 was at that time observed in me, except that I was, 
 in the phrase of the hamlet, " a desperate cross 
 body." This, however, must have been owing to 
 some indisposition of body ; for I naturally possess a 
 very peaceable temper. 
 
 At a proper age I was sent to school — five weeks, 
 in winter, to a master, who cotild read; and as long, 
 in summer, to an old maid, who could knit. Possess- 
 ing a strong attachment to books, I soon passed 
 from my primer to my psalter, and thence in a short 
 
WILLIAM BIGLOW. 
 
 631 
 
 time to my Bible, which were the only books we 
 ■used. At this early period of life, I perused all the 
 neighboring libraries, which contained "Pilgrim's 
 Progress," " Day of Doom," and many other compo- 
 sitions equally elegant and entertaining. 
 
 Among my schoolfellows, I was so peaceful and 
 condescending, that I was generally denominated a 
 coward. But that, which was attributed to pusil- 
 lanimity, was rather the effect of good nature. 
 However violently enraged, one smile from my 
 adversary would instantaneously assuage my anger, 
 and determine me to become his faithful friend. 
 
 Though this complaisance led my schoolmates to 
 practise man}' impositions upon me, yet I esteemed 
 this inconvenience sufficiently compensate 1, as it 
 caused me to be.-ome a great favorite of my old 
 grandmother. So great was her esteem for me, that 
 she took me, at a very early age, to wait on her, and 
 my venerable old grandfather. In this situation I 
 passed several years; and, as constantly as Saturday 
 night came round, I very piously said my catechism, 
 and supped on hasty-pudding ; and, with equal 
 devotion, rode to meeting on Sunday, and carried 
 my aunt behind me on a pillion. 
 
 There began my poetical career, by composing 
 "a ballad, containing a true and surprising account 
 of how the Deacon's son went a courting, lost his sad- 
 dle, and found it again'' which had a great run in 
 the village. This circumstance added to my former 
 fame at school ; and my great aversion to every 
 species of manual labor determined my father to 
 give me a public education. I was accordingly sent 
 to our parson's, where I attended closely and 
 entirely to my studies, and, in a short time, became 
 a member of the university. 
 
 When I came to college, I was, like most great 
 authors, awkward and bashful; ami my classmates 
 immediately concluded that I was either a fool or a 
 genius. My instructors, however, were clecidedly 
 of the former opinion. I was by no means an idle 
 fellow; but I paid very little attention to the stated 
 exercises of the college, choosing rather to follow 
 my own inclinations tnan those of my governors. I 
 studiously avoide 1 cultivating an acquaintance with 
 any, except a few selected classmates, and this 
 seclusion continued me an unpolished country fel- 
 low. At length I have found my way through, and 
 have retired into a neat rural village, anil taken a 
 small school, resolving to hide myself from the noise, 
 insults, and injuries of the world, behind my own 
 insignificance. I here pass for a good soul: and, 
 because I cannot be genteel, I do all in my power to 
 make people believe that I will not. 
 
 Notwithstanding I have passed iu the world, thus 
 silent and unknown, I have, as far as my opportu- 
 nities would permit, made very accurate observations 
 upon men and manners. When your paper made its 
 appearance among us, I co icluded that some of my 
 compositions might be of service to you, and deter- 
 mined to publish them periodically. * * * * 
 After this explanation, you will readily perceive 
 what kind of fare I shall be likely to serve up; and, 
 if you will give this a place in your literary oglio, I 
 will do my endeavor shortly to prepare a still 
 more palatable morsel. 
 
 Charles Chatterdox, Esq. 
 
 Shortly after writing this sketch, one of a series 
 entitled " Omnium Gatherum," he was ordained 
 and settled in Salem as a teacher. In 1799 he 
 delivered a poem entitled Education, before the 
 Phi Beta Kappa at Cambridge. lie soon removed 
 to Boston, to take charge of the Public Latin 
 School. Here he remained for several years, 
 preaching occasionally, contributing to the pe- 
 
 riodicals of the day, and preparing several educa- 
 tional text-books. His school was in high repute. 
 Edward Everett was one of his pupils. Intem- 
 perate habits gaining the mastery over him, ha 
 was compelled to retire to his home at Natick. 
 He passed some time in keeping a village school 
 in Maine, and in the latter part of his life was 
 employed as a proof-reader in the University 
 printing-office at Cambridge. He died of apoplexy 
 at Boston, January 12, 1844. 
 
 Biglow published in 1830, a History of tht 
 Town of Natick, Mass., from 1 6o0 to t/ie present 
 time, and also of Sherburne, Mass., from its In- 
 corporation, to the end of the year 1830. But his 
 best and most numerous writings are to be found 
 in the Village Messenger, a paper published at 
 Amherst, X. II., which he edited in 1"96, the 
 Federal Orrery, and the Massachusetts Magazine 
 of Boston, and other periodicals. It was his 
 custom, Mr. Buckingham informs us in his 
 Reminiscences, to walk from Katick to Boston, 
 some fifteen miles, "spend a day or two in the 
 newspaper printing-offices, write poetry for his 
 friends the editors, and then return to his rural 
 retreat." 
 
 Biglow was a ready versifier as well as an 
 agreeable prose writer. Having given the com- 
 mencement of his career in the latter, we may 
 present some of his stages in the former. 
 
 His college poem of 1793, entitled " Classology," 
 in imitation of the old English song " Heathen 
 Mythology," describing the humors of his class- 
 mates with a bacchanal flavor, is not forgotten 
 at Harvard at the present da}'. He commences : — 
 
 Songs of scholars in reveling roundelays 
 Belched out with hickups at bacchanal go, 
 Bellowed, till heaveu's high concave rebound th» 
 
 lays, 
 Are all for college carousals too low. 
 Of dullness quite tired, with merriment fired, 
 Ami fully inspired with amity's glow, 
 With hate-drowning wine, boys, and punch all 
 
 divine, boys. 
 The Juniors combine, boys, in friendly high go. 
 
 His intimacy with the magazines did not blind 
 his eyes to their amiable weaknesses in his day, 
 which are pleasantly satirized in his 
 
 RECEIPT TO MAKE A MAGAZIICE. 
 
 A plate, of art and meaning void, 
 
 To explain it a whole page employed : 
 
 Two tales prolonged of maids deluded ; 
 
 Two more begun, and one concluded ; 
 
 Life of a fool to fortune risen ; 
 
 The death of a starved bard in prison ; 
 
 On woman, beauty-spot of nature, 
 
 A panegyric and a satire; 
 
 Cook's voyages, in continuation ; 
 
 On taste a tasteless dissertation ; 
 
 Description of two fowls aquatic ; 
 
 A list of ladies, enigmatic; 
 
 A story true from French translated, 
 
 Which, with a lie, might well be mated!;; 
 
 A mangled slice of English history ; 
 
 Essays on miracles and mystery ; 
 
 An unknown character attacked, 
 
 In story founded upon fact : 
 
 Advice to jilts, coquets, and prudes: 
 
 And thus the pompous Prose concludes.. 
 
 For Poetry — a birth-day ode ; 
 A fable of the mouse and toad;. 
 
632 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 A modest 'wish for a kind 'wife, 
 
 And all the other joys of life ; 
 
 A song, descriptive of the season; 
 
 A poem, free from rhyme and reason : 
 
 A drunken song, to banish care ; 
 
 A simple sonnet to despair; 
 
 Some stanzas on a bridal bed ; 
 
 An epitaph on Shock, just dead ; 
 
 A pointless epigram on censure ; 
 
 An imitation of old Spenser ; 
 
 A dull acrostic and a rebus ; 
 
 A blustering monody to Phoebus ; 
 
 The country 'gainst the town defended ; 
 
 And thus the Poetry is ended. 
 
 Next, from the public prints, display 
 
 The news and lyings of the day ; 
 
 Paint bloody Mars & Co. surrounded 
 
 By thousands slain, ten thousand wounded: 
 
 Steer your sly politics between 
 
 The Aristocrat and Jacobin ; 
 
 Then end the whole, both prose and rhyme, in 
 
 The ravages of Death and Hymen. 
 
 His " Cheerful Parson" will give us an inkling 
 of his amiable character, which all of his con- 
 temporaries united in admiring, as well as of his 
 poetic powers.* 
 
 THE CHEEEFUL PAIiSOX. 
 
 Since bards are all wishing, pray why may not I ? 
 Though but a poor rhymer, for once I will try. 
 The life, that I choose, would be pleasant to scarce 
 
 one, 
 Yet the life, that I choose, is the life of a parson 
 
 First on me, kind heaven, a fortune bestow, 
 Too high for contempt and for envy too low, 
 On which I with prudence may hope to subsist, 
 Should I be for my damnable doctrine dismissed. 
 
 In a rich farming village, where P s shall plead, 
 
 And D r feel pulses, give physic, and bleed, 
 
 Where A 1 the youths and the children shall 
 
 teaeh, 
 There may I be called and there settled to preach. 
 
 Not damning a man for a different opinion, 
 I'd mix with the Calvinist, Baptist, Arminian, 
 Treat each like a man, like a Christian and brother, 
 Preach love to our Maker, ourselves and each other. 
 
 On a snug little farm, I'd provide me a seat, 
 With buildings all simple, substantial and neat; 
 Some sheep and some cattle my pastures to graze, 
 And a middle priced pony, to draw my new chaise. 
 
 When I find it no longer " good being alone," 
 
 May a mild, rural nymph " become bone of my 
 
 bone;" 
 Not fixed, like a puppet, on fashion's stiff wires, 
 But who can be genteel, when occasion requires. 
 
 Whose wealth is not money, whose beauty's not 
 paint ; 
 
 Not an infidel romp, nor a sour-hearted saint ; 
 
 Whose religion 's not heat, and her virtue not cold- 
 ness, 
 
 Nor her modesty fear, nor her wit manly boldness. 
 
 Thus settled, with care I'd apportion my time 
 To my sermons, my garden, my wife, and my rhyme, 
 To teach the untaught, and to better the bad, 
 To laugh with the merry, and weeo with the sad. 
 
 * Buckingham's Newspaper Reminiscences, vol. ii. 237-237, 
 276-293, where, with the extracts we have given, will be found 
 many curious passages of Eiglow's writings. 
 
 At the feast, where religion might be a spectator, 
 Where friendship presided, and mirth was a waiter, 
 I'd fear not to join with the good-humored clan, 
 And prove that a parson may still be a man. 
 
 Thus blest, may my life be slid smoothly away, 
 And I still grow more grave, as my hair grows more 
 
 gray; 
 
 With age may the hope of the Christian increase, 
 And strew life's descent with the blossoms of peace. 
 
 And when we leave this world, as leave it we must, 
 With rapture meet death, and sink into the dust, 
 With a tear in each eye may the parish all say, 
 " They wereakind pair, and did good in their day." 
 Charles Cijaiterbox, Esq. 
 
 EOBEET TEEAT PAINE, JTJN. 
 
 Thomas Paine was the second son of Robert 
 Treat Paine, the celebrated signer of the Decla- 
 ration of Independence, and was born at Taunton, 
 Mass., December 9, 1173. His name was subse- 
 quently changed on his own application, in 1801, 
 with the plea that he had no Christian name, by 
 the Massachusetts legislature, to that of his father. 
 
 At the age of seven his family removed to Bos- 
 ton, where he was prepared for Harvard College 
 in one of the public schools, and entered the 
 Freshman class in 1788. One of his classmates 
 wrote a squib on him in verse, on the college 
 wall, and Paine, on consultation with his friends, 
 being advised to retaliate in kind, did so, and thus 
 became aware of the poetic faculty of which he 
 afterwards made such liberal use. He henceforth 
 wrote most of his college compositions in verse, 
 with such success, that he was assigned the post 
 of poet at the college exhibition in the autumn 
 of 1791, and at the Commencement in the follow- 
 ing year. After receiving his diploma he entered 
 the counting-othce of Mr. James Tisdale, but 
 must have proved an unprofitable assistant to that 
 gentleman, as in the words of his biographer " he 
 made entries in his day-book in poetry, and once 
 made out a charter-party in the same style;" and 
 on one occasion when sent to the bank with a 
 
ROBERT TREAT PAKE, J UN. 
 
 /-too 
 I) -J -J 
 
 check for five hundred dollars, meeting by the 
 way some literary acquaintances, he went off with 
 them to Cambridge, "and spent a week in the 
 enjoyment of ' the feast of reason and the flow 
 of soul,' " returning with the cash, at the end of 
 * that period, to his duties. He was a frequent 
 contributor at this period to the " Seat of the 
 Muses" of the Massachusetts Magazine, where a 
 long poetical correspondence will be found be- 
 tween Philenia (Mrs. Morton) and himself. 
 
 In 1792 the players made their first appearance 
 in Boston. Their performances were at first 
 called dramatic recitations, to avoid collision with 
 a law forbidding " stage plays." This was re- 
 pealed in 1793, when the Federal-street theatre 
 was built and opened Feb. 4, 1794, with a prize 
 prologue, by our author, who fell in love with 
 Miss Baker, aged sixteen, one of the company. 
 He passed a large portion of his time the ensuing 
 year in writing theatrical criticisms ; left the 
 counting-house and issued the prospectus of the 
 Federal Orrery, a semi-weekly newspaper, which 
 made its appearance October 20, 1794. In the 
 following February he married Miss Baker, and 
 was turned out of doors by his father. The 
 breach was partially healed a few years after. In 
 1795 he delivered a poem on taking his degree of 
 A.M. at Cambridge, entitled The Invention of 
 Letters. It contained some lines referring to 
 Jacobinism, which he spoke, notwithstanding 
 they had been crossed out by the college authori- 
 ties. It was perhaps in part owing to this cir- 
 cumstance that two large editions of the poem 
 were sold. They produced him a profit of fifteen 
 hundred dollars. It is dedicated to Washing- 
 ton, with a rapturous eulogy upon whom it 
 closes : — 
 
 Could Faustus live, by gloomy grave resign'd, 
 With power extensive, as sublime his mind, 
 Thy glorious life a volume should compose, 
 As Alps immortal, spotless as its snows. 
 The stars should be its types — its press the age ; 
 The earth its binding — and the sky its page. 
 
 In 1794 he produced his earliest ode, Rise Co- 
 lumbia. It has a spirited burden. 
 
 When first the sun o'er ocean glow'd 
 
 And earth unveil'd her virgin breast, 
 Supreme 'mid Nature's vast abode, 
 
 Was heard the Almighty's dread behest; 
 Rise, Columbia, brave and free, 
 Poise the globe, and bound the sea. 
 
 In 1797 he sold his paper, which had suffered 
 from his neglect of editorial duties, having lost 
 several thousand dollars by the speculation. He 
 delivered his poem, the Ruling Passion, before 
 the Phi Beta Kappa Society in 1797. He gained 
 twelve hundred dollars by its publication. 
 
 The famous song of Adams and Liberty was 
 written in 1798, at the request of the " Massa- 
 chusetts Charitable Fire Society." Its sale yield- 
 ed him a profit of more than seven hundred and 
 fifty dollars; more than eleven dollars for each 
 line, as the matter of fact Mr. Allen correctly 
 calculates. These receipts show a popularity 
 which, particularly in the case of the two college 
 poems, is very remarkable. In 1799 he delivered 
 an oration to an audience " crowded to almost the 
 utmost pressure of possibility," on the first anni- 
 
 versary of the dissolution of the alliance with 
 France. It was written a few days only before 
 its deliver}', and was very successful. The author 
 sent a copy, after its publication, to Washington, 
 and received a reply, in which the General prays — 
 " You will be assured that I am never more gra- 
 tified than when I see the effusions of genius from 
 some of the rising generation, 'which promises to 
 secure our national rank in the literary world ; as 
 I trust their firm, manly, and patriotic conduct 
 will ever maintain it With dignity in the poli- 
 tical." He was persuaded about this time to re- 
 form the drunken habits winch he had unfortunate- 
 ly acquiued, separate from the theatre, where he 
 filled the office of " master of ceremonies" and 
 occasional prologue writer, remove to Newbury- 
 port, and study law. Here, on the invitation of 
 the inhabitants he delivered, on the 2d of Janu- 
 ary, 1800, a Eulogy on Washington. In the same 
 year he removed to Boston, with his legal in- 
 structor, Mr., afterwards Chief Justice Parsons. 
 In 1802 he was admitted, and commenced prac- 
 tice with great success, but unfortunately the re- 
 turn of the players, in 1803, led to his former 
 unsettled mode of life. He did not again rally 
 from dissipation, neglected his business, planned 
 but never executed several literary projects, and 
 died on the 13th of November, 1811, leaving a 
 daughter and two sons destitute, who were pro- 
 vided with a home in his father's house. 
 
 His works were collected by a most enthu- 
 siastic and pains-taking editor, Charles Prentis*, 
 and published at Boston, in 1812, in one largo 
 8vo. volume. 
 
 FROM " THE RULING PASSION." 
 
 From fops we turn to pedants, deep and dull; 
 Grave, without sense ; " o'erflowing, yet not full." 
 See, the lank book- worm, piled with lumbering 
 
 lore, 
 Wrinkled in Latin, and in Greek fourscore, 
 With toil incessant, thumbs the ancient page, 
 Now blots a hero, now turns down a sage! 
 O'er Learning's field, with leaden eye he strays, 
 'Mid busts of fame, and monuments of praise 
 With Gothiok foot he treads on flowers of taste, 
 Yet stoops to pick the pebbles from the waste. 
 Profound in trifles, he can tell, how short 
 Were jEsop's legs, how large was Tully's wart ; 
 And, sealed by Gutiter, marks, with joy absurd, 
 The out of Homer's cloak and Euclid's "beard I 
 
 Thus through the weary watch of sleepless night, 
 This learned ploughman plods in piteous plight; 
 Till the dim taper takes French leave to doze, 
 And the fat folio tumbles on his toes. 
 
 ADAMS AND LIBERTY. 
 
 Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought 
 For those rights, which unstain'd from your sires 
 had descended, 
 May you long taste the blessings your valour has 
 bought, 
 And your sons reap the soil which your fathers 
 defended ; 
 
 'Jlid the reign of mild peace, 
 May your nation increase, 
 With the glory of Rome and the wisdom of 
 Greece ; 
 And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, 
 While the earth bears a plaut, or the sea rolls i„s 
 waves. 
 
634 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In a clime whose rich vales feed the marts of the 
 world, 
 "Whose shores are unshaken by Europe's commo- 
 tion, 
 The trident of commerce should never be hurl'd, 
 To increase the legitimate powers of the ocean. 
 But should pirates invade, 
 Though in thunder arrny'd, 
 Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, <fce. 
 
 The fame of our arms, of our laws the mild sway, 
 
 Had justly ennobled our nation in story, 
 Till the dark clouds of faction obscured our young 
 day, 
 And enveloped the sun of American glory. 
 But let traitors be told, 
 Who their country have sold, 
 And barter'd their God for his image in gold, 
 That ne'er will the sons, <fec. 
 
 "While France her huge limbs bathes recumbent in 
 blood, 
 And society's base threats with wide dissolution ; 
 May peace, like the dove who return'd from the 
 flood, 
 Find an ark of abode in our mild constitution. 
 But, though peace is our aim, 
 Yet the boon we disclaim, 
 If bought by our sovereignty, justice, or fame. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &a. 
 
 'Tis the fire of the flint each American warms : 
 
 Let Rome's haughty victors beware of collision ; 
 Let them bring all the vassals of Europe in arms, 
 "We're a world by ourselves, and disdain a pro- 
 vision. 
 
 While, with patriot pride, 
 To our laws we're allied, 
 No foe can subdue us, no faction divide. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &a. 
 
 Our mountains are crown'd with imperial oak, 
 
 "Whose roots, like our liberties, ages have uourish'd. 
 But long ere our nation submits to the yoke, 
 
 Not a tree shall be left on the field where it 
 flourish'd. 
 
 Should invasion impend, 
 Every grove would descend 
 From the hill tops they shaded, our shores to de- 
 fend ; 
 
 For ne'er shall the sons, <tc. 
 
 Let our patriots destroy Anarch's pestilent worm, 
 Lest our liberty's growth should be check'd by 
 corrosion ; 
 Then let clouds thicken round us : we heed not the 
 storm ; 
 Our realm fears no shock, but the -earth's own ex- 
 plosion ; 
 
 Foes assail us in vain, 
 Though their fleets bridge the main, 
 For our altars and laws, with our lives, we'll 
 maintain. 
 
 For ne'er shall the sons, <fec. 
 
 Should the tempest of war overshadow our land, 
 Its bolts could ne'er rend Freedom's temple 
 asunder ; 
 For, unmov'd, at its portal would "Washington stand, 
 And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the 
 thunder ! 
 
 His sword from the sleep 
 Of its scabbard would leap, 
 And conduct, with its point, every flash to the 
 deep. 
 
 For ne'er shall the sous, <te. 
 
 Let fame to the world sound America's voice ; 
 No intrigues can her sons from their government 
 sever : 
 Her pride are her statesmen — their laws are her 
 choice, 
 And shall flourish till Liberty slumbers for ever. , 
 Then unite heart and hand, 
 Like Leonidas' band, 
 And swear to the God of the ocean and land, 
 That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, 
 While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its 
 waves. 
 
 ISAAC STOET. 
 A volume was published in Boston in 1801 en- 
 titled, A Parnassian Shop opened in the Pindaric 
 Style, by Peter Quince, Esq.* It was a collection 
 of the waggeries in imitation of Peter Pindar, 
 which had given life to the well filled columns of 
 the Farmer 's Museum ; a publication, which drew 
 upon the pure invention, and sometimes the mere 
 ingenuity of the clever writers who contributed 
 to it. They bear date from 1795, and some of 
 them had been contributed to Barrett's Newbury- 
 port Political Gazette. The "sign-board," by 
 way of preface to the volume, shows the elabo- 
 rate preparation of these trifles, and is itself a 
 curiosity. 
 
 SIGN-BOAKD. 
 
 PETER's Shop contains the largest and most 
 fashionable assortment of Apollo-Ware; beautiful 
 and variegated Odes, by the yard or piece ; Songs 
 suitable for any and every occasion — si. gle, or by 
 the set; one crate of b:oken Elegies, winch can be 
 so joined together, as to suit the vilest and worthiest 
 characters: also, a few Elastic Trusses — calculated 
 with great care and iuge.iuity, for loose Politicians; 
 one TREPANING INSTRUMENT to be used on such 
 persons, only, who'have cracked their skulls, in try- 
 ing to pull down good government. A few bundles 
 of Invocations, Addresses, Excuses, Conundrums, 
 Whip-Syllabubs and Deifications — together with a 
 new-invented Bus and Spatterdashes, for the sole 
 bei.efit and behoof of slovenly Critics. 
 
 Besides the above-mentioned articles, Peter has a 
 more pleasing aid diversified assortment, in his large 
 Ware-Hocse, which will be opened as soon as Apollo- 
 Wure becomes more fashionable. Peter keeps con- 
 stantly for sale, in the back part of his shop, Par- 
 nassian-trinkets, Heliconian-spouts, and Pcgassuses 
 on truckles, for the accommodation of young and 
 lame Poetasters; also, a very ingenious Spinning- 
 Wlieel, which will turn off Epic-Poems of any length 
 and on any subject, with the utmost ease and dis- 
 patch ; beside furnishing them with glossaries and 
 obsolete quotations — all of which will be sold on the 
 most reasonable terms, for cash or abort credit. Ped- 
 lars and Ballad-Singers may depend on making good 
 bargains and receiving ample encouragement, at said 
 buck apartment, where they will find a number of 
 heavy moulded geniusses eternally at pen nibbing. 
 Peter has with much care and expense procured a 
 curious and complicated Water-Machine, for grinding 
 with astonishing rapidity hard and cramp phrases 
 
 * A Parnassian Shop opened in the Pindaric style ; by Peter 
 Quince, Esq. 
 
 Be not imposed on by ft name 
 But bid your eye the picture's merit trace, 
 
 Pous-in. at times, in outlines may be lame. 
 And Guido's angels destitute of grace. — P. Pindak. 
 
 Boston. Eussell and Cutter : 1801. 12 mo. pp. 155. 
 
ISAAC STORY. 
 
 635 
 
 into Epitaphs, Rebusses, Epigrams, Catches, Love- 
 Pills, Dying-Psalms, an J Wit-Crackers: — these are 
 sold by the groee or box, to Country Traders, at a 
 reduced price. 
 
 N. B. Cash and the highest price given for new 
 ideas. 
 
 The verges are, a few of them, political and anti- 
 democratic in those days; some are patriotic, but 
 they are mostly amatory and bacchanalian ; a few 
 are sheer nonsense verses. There is a short series 
 written in 179!) of Consolatory Odes, dedicated 
 with Christian piety to those unfortunate beings 
 who labor under the malignant influence of the 
 Democratic mania. The author of tho.-.e clever 
 Federal verses was Isaac Story, who was born at 
 Marblehead (the son of the clergyman of tho 
 same name at that place), August 25, 1774. He 
 was a graduate of Harvard of 1703, and became 
 a lawyer at Rutland, Massachusetts. In 1792 he 
 published at Marblehead An Epistle from Yarico 
 to Inkle, together with their characters, as related 
 in the Spectator. This college production is in 
 verse, in this pathetic appeal : — ■ 
 
 From the sal place where sorrow ever reigns 
 And hopeless wretches groan beneath their chains; 
 Where stern oppression lifts her iron hand 
 And restless cruelty usurps command, <&c. 
 
 In 1800 he delivered a eulogy on Washington at 
 Sterling, Massachu : etts, where he was then a re- 
 sident. The next year he appears as a Fourth of 
 July orator at Worcester. His oration was pub- 
 lished. He died at the early age of twenty-nine, 
 while on a vi^it to his father at Marblehead, July 
 19, 1803. The following obituary from the pen 
 of his cousin, Judge Joseph Story, appeared in the 
 Salem Register of July 25. 
 
 " At Marblehead, on Tuesday evening last, 
 Isaac Story, Jr., Esq., of Rutland. A gentleman 
 well known by numerous productions in polite 
 literature. In his manners bland, social, and af- 
 fectionate; in his disposition sportive and con- 
 vivial; in his morals pure, generous, and unaf- 
 fected; in his mind vivacious, refined, and face- 
 tious. After the usual academic course he pursued 
 the science of Jurisprudence, and gave promise of 
 an honorable station among advocates. In the 
 interval of judicial studies he courted the Aonian 
 Sisters, and occasionally gave to the public spe- 
 cimens of accomplished composition. Wit and 
 humor were provinces in which he sought pecu- 
 liarfavor; though he not unfrequeutly mingled in 
 his poetic effusions the gravity of sententiousness 
 with the lighter grace*. But, alas! the wit, the 
 poet, and the moralist, now exists only in his writ- 
 ings. Death has consigned him to the common 
 lot of mortality. 
 
 " Spirit of him whose chastened soul 
 
 Could touch each chord of pure desire, 
 
 Whence, down beyond the mind's control, 
 
 Thy brilliant thought, thy Druid fire? 
 
 " Lost in thy manhood's chariest bloom, 
 O'er thee shall pity meekly mourn, 
 And many a svlph, who haunts the gloom, 
 With twilight dews besprend thine urn. 
 
 " Beside, thine 'airy harp' shall rest, 
 
 With wonted char ns unskilled to play, 
 Or wildly moved in g.ief supprest, 
 Fling to the breeze its funeral lay. 
 
 ' Yet may the willow love to bend, 
 
 And there the gentler myrtle woo, 
 
 While Boftly sighs each passing friend, 
 
 Ah! Yoriek, bard of truth, adieu!" 
 
 ODE TO POVERTY. 
 
 Peter holdeth confab with Poverty — rjiveth her his opinion ,* 
 asketh questions about Chtiri&y-r-Mndendetiiwith alttU> ang^r 
 and inconsistency — but still canters in church-measure. 
 
 Come, Poverty, with placid hue, 
 With ragged garments, worn-out shoo ; 
 
 Come, hear the jovial Peter! 
 Thy squalid looks and haggard mien, 
 Protub'raut bones and eyes scarce seen, 
 
 Now swell his solemn metre. 
 
 When on he travell'd life's green vale, 
 Where fickle fancy fan'd his sail, 
 
 He thought he ne'er should sorrow ; 
 But that old Time would constant bring, 
 From joy's gay source a plenteous spring, 
 
 For ev'ry coming morrow. 
 
 Thus buoy'd by hope, he turn'd his lyre; 
 Enjoy'd his friends, indulg'd desire, 
 
 And laugh'd at lengthen'd faces; 
 Pity'd the plodding man of trade ; 
 The skin-flint miser, moping maid, 
 
 And all, who shun'd the Graces. 
 
 With careless foot he trip'd the green ; 
 
 Each day, each hour, chang'd pleasure's scene, 
 
 Nor thought, poor soul, on thee. 
 Nature has given us plenteous stock, 
 To keep us from thy stumbling bloek, 
 
 And fill our hearts with glee. 
 
 In vain you steal our bags of riches, 
 Thread-bare our elbows, tear our breeches, 
 
 Or leave our feet unshod. 
 With health and virtue on we trudge, 
 Knowing that all thy tricks arc fudge, 
 
 While there exists a God. 
 
 Thus thought he, in his youthful days, 
 And still those thoughts shall swell hi3 l~y3, 
 
 And keep his bosom quiet; 
 For tho' thou com'st, with visage pale, 
 And drag'st him, tatter'd into jail, 
 
 His soul shall breed no riot. 
 
 Along life's twisting road we find 
 
 Of halt and maim'd, of mad and blind, 
 
 Of doleful and of dumb, 
 A train, both hideous, sal, and poor," 
 Seeking each day compassion's door, 
 
 While going to kingdom come. 
 
 O'er those Compassion sheds a tear, 
 While pity stops their plaints to hear, 
 
 And cures, or mourns their fate; 
 Yet when we sec thee those infest, 
 Who are with strength and reason b'.est, 
 
 Our minds are fill'd with hate. 
 
 Not one decree of Heaven we blame, 
 But on them cry out " fools ! for shame, 
 
 Betake thee unto labour." 
 Unless by dire misfortune spent, 
 They are in Law's vile dungeon pent, 
 
 To gratify a neighbour. 
 
 Then anger and compassion blend, 
 
 We damn the wretch, act sorrow's friend 
 
 But. like thee ne'er the more; 
 Rather abominate thy form, 
 And, as we would fell Winter's storm. 
 
 Against thee shut the door. 
 1794 P. Quince, Esq, 
 
636 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 PETEE 8 ADIEU TO THE CITY. 
 
 Beatus ULe, quiprocul negotiis, 
 
 Utprisca genu mortalium, 
 Paterna rura bobus exercet mi:;, 
 
 Solutus omnif<jenore. — Horace. 
 
 To the City I've bid an adieu ! 
 
 To its pleasures and parties farewell ! 
 Nor can they entrap me anew ; 
 
 Or call me once more from my cell. 
 
 I believ'd midst the rich and the great, 
 Mild contentment and happiness dwelt ; 
 
 That they blunted the arrows of fate, 
 And seldom keen misery felt. 
 
 That Time flew with pinions of down, 
 While Charity brighten'd his way ; 
 
 And Peace, on her olive branch crown, 
 Recorded the deeds of each day. 
 
 That Justice, with mercy attir'd, 
 
 Heard the cause of the poor and oppress'd; 
 CheckVl the tongue with malevolence fir'd, 
 
 And the wrongs of the feeble redress'd. 
 
 The delusion is over and past, 
 
 And the tinsel, which misery clad, 
 Is remov'd by my reason at last. 
 
 And I mourn that the world is so bad. 
 
 That anguish and want should appear, 
 
 Willi gaiety's mantle adorn'd ; 
 That I language of softness should hear, 
 
 From a wretch, whom humanity seorn'd. 
 
 That damsels with modest array, 
 
 And manners apparently good, 
 Should trip through the city all day, — 
 
 But at night, with fell infamy brood. 
 
 The rich meet the rich in the street, 
 
 And tho' vices hang thick round their heart, 
 
 Shake hands and most courteously greet — 
 But with plots and contrivances part. 
 
 No hand wipes a tear from the eye 
 
 Of the widow, or fatherless child; 
 But all their assistance deny 
 
 And laugh to behold them beguil'd. 
 
 The good man, by poverty led, 
 
 Thro' the city must wander alone ; 
 With the offals of grandeur be fed, 
 
 And to wretchedness open his moan. 
 
 The worldlings have virtue forsook ; 
 
 To self are their bounties confiu'd ; 
 While those, who take pride in a crook, 
 
 Are patrons and friends to mankind. 
 
 O ! nature, thy works I adore ; 
 
 The path, thou'st design'd us to tread, 
 Is stock'd with the richest of love, 
 
 With the fairest of roses bespread. 
 
 Our wants are both simple and few, 
 
 Where virtue and modesty reign ; 
 But the phantoms of bliss we pursue, 
 
 And the counsels of wisdom disdain. 
 
 Let me wander my cottage around, 
 Taste the fruits of labour and care ; 
 
 With health, peace, and friendship abound, 
 And I shall not of pleasure despair. 
 
 P. Quince. 
 
 LEONARD WOODS. 
 This distinguished scholar and divine was born at 
 Princeton, Mass., June 19, 1774. His parents, 
 Samuel and Abigail Woods, are spoken of as both 
 possessing strong mental powers, while they were 
 
 of " Puritanic piety ;" his father's " habits of seri- 
 ous thought upon metaphysical subjects having 
 obtained for him the title of " philosopher Woods." 
 With small opportunity for cultivation when 
 young, he became conversant with the mo?t im- 
 portant histories, with the poetry of Milton,Young, 
 and Watts ; as also with the works of Locke and 
 Edwards, and of many of the Puritan divines* 
 His son Leonard early exhibited a taste for study, 
 profiting by the instructions of his father and an 
 elder sister. At six or seven he followed the ex- 
 ercises of a class of older boys in arithmetic, keep- 
 ing pace with them on his substitute for a slate, 
 of a piece of birch bark ; notwithstanding these 
 signs of talent he might have been confined to the 
 duties of his father's farm, had not a fit of sick- 
 ness, which abated his strength, marked him out 
 for the physically less laborious occupations of the 
 scholar. His mother assisted this scheme of study, 
 which he pursued with the village clergyman ; and 
 in 1792 he entered Harvard, taking his degree in 
 course in the class with John Pickering, with the 
 highest honors in 1796. He then was engaged as 
 a teacher in Medford for eight months, when he 
 commenced the study of theology with Dr. Charles 
 Backus at Somers, Ct., continuing his studies at 
 home with the Bible and Brown's system of divi- 
 nity for his principal text-books. In 1798, he was 
 ordained at Newbury as the successor of Dr. Da- 
 vid Tappan, who had been appointed professor of 
 Theology at Harvard. He married the next year 
 Miss Abigail Wheeler, daughter of Joseph Whee- 
 ler, judge of probate in Worcester. His public 
 literary reputation dates from the j'ear 1805, when 
 he contributed a series of papers to the religious 
 periodical, The JPanoplist, conducted by Dr. Morse 
 of Charlestown, in defence of the old orthodox 
 Calvinism, which was then powerfully assailed by 
 the advocates of the new opinions in vogue at 
 Cambridge, and elsewhere.t A scheme for an 
 educational institution "to provide for the church 
 a learned, orthodox, and pious ministry " now de- 
 veloped itself, which resulted in the opening of 
 the Andover Theological Seminary, September 
 28, 1808, with Mr. Woods in the chair of Christian 
 Theology — a professorship which he occupied for 
 thirty-eight years, when he resigned the office in 
 1846, retaining the rank of Emeritus professor. 
 He published his lectures, embracing his system 
 of systematic theology, and a portion of his mis- 
 cellaneous writings, in a series of his " Works " in 
 five volumes, in 1849 and '50. The first three 
 volumes contain one hundred and twenty-eight of 
 the Andover courses of lectures ; the other two 
 contain letters, essays, and sermons, including the 
 controversial letters to Unitarians, an Examination 
 of the Doctrine of Perfection, a Dissertation on Mi- 
 racles, a Course of Stud}', Letters to Young Minis- 
 ters, and Essays on the " Philosophy of the Mind," 
 " Cause and Effect in Connexion with Fatalism 
 
 * A Discourse (of the biosrraphical portion of which the pre- 
 sent account is an abstract) delivered at the Funeral of Kev. 
 Leonard Woods, D.D.. in the Chapel of the Theological Semi- 
 nary, Andover. Aup-. 28, 1S54. By Edward A. Lawrence, Pro- 
 fessor in the Theological Seminary. East Windsor Hill. Ct. 
 
 t No. 1. of the Panoplist or the Christian's Armory, was 
 published June, 1805; with vol. xiv. in Jan. 1818. it became 
 united with the Missionary Herald ; in January 1821, lost its 
 miscellaneous character, and the publication has since been 
 well known as the Missionary Herald, the organ of the Ameri- 
 can Board. 
 
WILLIAM SULLIVAN. 
 
 031 
 
 and Free Agency," and other metaphysical reli- 
 gious topics. 
 
 His habit of mind in these theological writings 
 is thus described by his son-in-law, Professor Law- 
 rence, who lias sketched his moral and intellectual 
 character with a discriminating pen. " He was 
 never weary of an old truth because of its age, nor 
 repelled from a new one because it was new. He 
 believed in improvements in theologians and theo- 
 logical science, though not in theological truths. 
 He regarded these improvements as coming 
 through much study and prayer, by approxima- 
 tions of human ideas and human hearts to the re- 
 vealed standard of doctrine, and the model of the 
 Christian life. He accepted certain views of pro- 
 gress ; but his cautious habit led him to take no 
 step until he was sure that it was not a backward 
 movement. Much that the world esteems pro- 
 gress, he counted the reverse. If his caution made 
 him conservative, his abhorrence of evil made him 
 also a friend to all. judicious reforms. He' moved 
 slowly because he moved with care, and with care 
 that he might move securely and lose no time. If 
 he seldom had occasion to retract his opinions, it 
 was from the patient labor and caution with which 
 he formed them." * 
 
 His social disposition, kind and refined, was not 
 less marked than his zealous adberence to the ad- 
 vancement of theological education. Dr. Woods 
 continued to reside at Andover till his death, 
 which he met with Christian faith and humility, 
 Aug. 24, 1854, at the advanced age of eighty-one. 
 Dr. Woods was one of the original promoters of 
 several of the benevolent associations of his day, 
 as the American Board of Missions, the American 
 Tract Society, and the Temperance Society, with 
 the history of which his name will be commemo- 
 rated. One of the last works upon which he was 
 engaged was a History of the Theological Semi- 
 nary in Andover, which he left nearly completed 
 in manuscript. 
 
 WILLIAM StTLLITAN. 
 Was born at Saco, in Maine, November 12, 1774. 
 His father had been Governor of Massachusetts, 
 his grandfather was an emigrant from Ireland. 
 He was educated at Harvard, and studied law in 
 his father's office. The law and politics occupied 
 his attention till the latter part of his life, when 
 he devoted himself to literature, and matters of 
 public welfare. His writings are several dis- 
 courses, one before the Suffolk liar in 1824 ; before 
 the Pilgrim Society of Plymouth in 1829; before 
 the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression of 
 Intemperance in 1832; his Political Class Boole ; 
 intended to instruct the higher classes in schools, 
 in the origin, nature, and use of Political Power, 
 in 1831- his Moral Class Book, or the Law of 
 Morals, derived from the created universe, and 
 from reseale.l religion, in 1833 ; an Historical 
 Class Book the same year, and its continuation 
 entitled Historical Causes and Effects, in 1837. 
 In this year he also published his book entitled, 
 Sea Life ; or what may, or may not be done, and 
 what ought to be done by Shipowners, Shipmasters, 
 Mates, and Seamen, addressed to Father Taylor, 
 the minister of the Mariner's Church in Boston. 
 
 * Discourse, p. 22. 
 
 ify^fuMAAj-c^ 
 
 XAsl- 
 
 These were either books for schools, or special 
 philanthropic topics ; the work of most general 
 interest which he wrote, is his Familiar Letters 
 on the Public Men of the Revolution, including 
 events from the peace of 1783 to the peace of 
 1815, which first appeared in 1834. It is a 
 vindication of the Federal Party, and an attack 
 on the opposition, inspired by the animadversions 
 of Jefferson in his published memoir and writings, 
 mingled with personal sketches and criticisms. 
 He died September 3, 1839, aged sixty-four. Mr. 
 Sullivan's lift;* has been written by his son, John 
 T. S. Sullivan. He speaks of the ardor witli which 
 his father pursued his studies in his last years, 
 occupying himself from twelve to fourteen hours 
 daily, and of his saying to a friend who regretted 
 that he had relinquished the law: "I believe I 
 mistook, in my selection of. a profession, the 
 course most favorable to my happiness ; for I 
 have never been conscious of real enjoyment, or 
 of the true bent of my talents, if I have any, 
 until I devoted myself to literature ;" a remark- 
 able tribute to a life of letters. Another anecdote 
 of his personal bearing is also given by his son. 
 " He was six feet tall, very erect, and in his gait 
 dignified and reserved. No one, saving his own 
 family, ever approached him familiarly. His 
 manners were those of the old school, now al- 
 most extinct, and he could more deeply wound 
 with a formal bow, than many men, less dignified, 
 with a blow. He used to say, that deified 
 civility, based upon self-respect, was a gentle- 
 man's weapon and defence." 
 
 SKETCH OF IIAMILTON — FEOM THE "FAMILIAR I.ETTEES." 
 
 _ In 1705, Alexander Hamilton, at the age of thirty- 
 eight, resumed the practice of law in the city of New 
 York, and there continued until the close of his life. 
 In December of that year, his personal appearance 
 was this : — He was under middle size, thin in person, 
 but remarkably erect and dignified in his deport- 
 ment. His bust, seen in so many houses, and the 
 pictures and prints of him, make known, too gene- 
 
 * Prefixed to a new. enlarged, and revised edition of the 
 Public Men of the Eevolntion. Phila. 1S4T. 
 
638 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 rally, the figure of his face, to make an attempt .nt 
 description expedient. His hair was turned back 
 from his forehead, powdered, and collected in a club 
 behind. His complexion was exceedingly fair, and 
 varying from this only by the almost feminine 
 Cosiness of his cheeks. His might be considered, as 
 to figure and color, an uncommonly handsome face. 
 "When at rest, it had rather a severe and thoughtful 
 expression ; but when engaged in conversation, it 
 easily assumed an attractive smile. He was ex- 
 pected, one day in December, 17y5, at dinner, and 
 was the last who came. When he entered the room 
 it was apparent from the respectful attention of the 
 company, that he was a distinguished individual. 
 He was dressed in a blue coat with bright buttons, 
 the skirts of his coat were unusually long. He 
 wore a white waistcoat, black silk small clothes, 
 white silk stockings. The gentleman who received 
 him as a guest, introduced him to such of the com- 
 pany as were strangers to him ; to each he made a 
 formal bow, bending very low, the ceremony of 
 shaking hands not being observed. The fame of 
 Hamilton had reached every one who knew any 
 thing of public men. His appearance and deport- 
 ment accorded with the dignified distinction to 
 which he had attained in public opinion. At dinner, 
 "whenever he engaged in the conversation, every one 
 listened attentively. His mode of speaking was de- 
 liberate ami serious; and his voice engagingly plea- 
 sant. In the evening of the same day lie was in a 
 mixed assembly of both sexes; and the tranquil re- 
 serve, noticed at the dinner table, had given place to 
 a social and playful manner, as though in this he 
 was alone ambitious to excel. 
 
 The eloquence of Hamilton was said to be per- 
 suasive and commanding; the more likely to be so, 
 as he had no guide but the impulse of a great and 
 rich mind, he having had little opportunity to be 
 trained at the bar, or in popular assemblies. Those 
 who eould spe:ik of his manner from the best op- 
 portunities to observe him in public and private, 
 concurred in pronouncing him a frank, amiable, 
 high-minded, open-hearted gentleman. He was ca- 
 pable of inspiring the most affectionate attachment; 
 but he eould make those whom he opposed, fear and 
 hate him cordially. He was capable of intense and 
 effectual application, as is abundantly proved by 
 his public labours. But he had a rapidity and clear- 
 ness of perception, in which he may not have been 
 equalled. One who knew his habits of study, said 
 of him, that when he had a serious object to ac- 
 complish, his practice was to reflect on it previously ; 
 and when he had gone through this labour, he re- 
 tired to sleep, without regard to the hour of the 
 night, and having slept six or seven hours, he rose, 
 and having taken strong coffee, seated himself at his 
 table, where he would remain six, seven, or eight 
 hours; and the product of his rapid pen required 
 little correction for the press. He was av.ong the 
 few alike excellent, whether in speaking c in writ- 
 ing. In private and friendly intercourse, he is said 
 to have been exceedingly amiable, and to have been 
 affectionately beloved. 
 
 ROBERT GOODLOE HARPER. 
 Robert Goodloe Harpei:, an eminent political 
 writer and orator of the Federalist school, was 
 born near Fredericksburg, Virginia, in 1765. He 
 was the son of poor but respectable parents, who, 
 during his childhood, removed to Granville, North 
 Carolina. At the early age of fifteen he served 
 in a troop of horse, composed of the youth of the 
 neighborhood, under General Greene during the 
 closing scenes of the southern campaign of the 
 
 Revolution. Ho next entered Princeton College 
 where, while a student in the upper, he acted as 
 a tutor to the lower classes, and was graduated in 
 1785. He about the same time formed a plan, 
 during a visit at Philadelphia, of making the tour 
 of Europe on foot. He proposed to commence at 
 London, supporting himself during his sojourn by 
 giving lessons and working as a joiner, a trade for 
 which an early taste for mechanics had fitted him; 
 The scheme was frustrated by the departure of 
 the ship, in which he intended to sail, having 
 been delayed for several weeks by ice in the De- 
 laware, during which his stock of money and 
 desire for travel rapidly diminished. As soon as 
 navigation was open he sailed for Charleston with 
 the intention of studying law. While standing on 
 the wharf after his arrival, with only a dollar or 
 two in his pocket, he was asked by a bystander 
 whether he had not taught a class in Princeton 
 of winch a youth, whose name was given, was a 
 member. Ho replied in the affirmative, and was 
 informed that this youth was the son of his ques- 
 tioner, who had become familiar with the teacher 
 from the letters of the scholar, his son. By the 
 kindly offices of this friend, who was the keeper 
 of a tavern, the wants of the new comer were pro- 
 vided for; and by an introduction to a lawyer, who 
 received him as a student in his office, his wishes 
 in reference to a profession realized. He read 
 with such zeal as to qualify himself for practice 
 in a year. With a view to speedier advancement 
 in his profession he removed to the interior of the 
 state. Here he soon became known by a series 
 of articles which lie contributed to a newspaper 
 on a proposed change in the constitution of the 
 state. He was next elected to the legislature of 
 the state, and not long after to the national House 
 of Representatives, where he became a distin- 
 guished and thorough supporter of the adminis- 
 trations of Washington and Adams. After the 
 election of Jefferson lie retired from Congress, and 
 in consequence of his marriage with the daughter 
 of Charles Carroll, removed to Maryland and 
 commenced the practice of the law at Baltimore. 
 He was employed with Joseph Ilopkinson as 
 counsel for Judge Chase of the Supreme Court of 
 the United Slates, in the trial which resulted in 
 the acquittal of that officer on all the charges for 
 which he was impeached. He was elected by his 
 adopted state to the Senate of the United States. 
 At a dinner given at Georgetown, June 5, 1813, 
 in honor of the recent Russian victories, he gave 
 as a toast " Alexander the Deliverer," and fol- 
 lowed with a speech highly eulogistic of that mo- 
 narch, and of the power, prosperity, and progress 
 of his dominions. The address contains an elabo- 
 rate account of the invasion of Napoleon, attri- 
 butes its failure to the military skill of the Rus- 
 sians as well as the severity of the winter, and 
 congratulates the United States on this result as 
 lessening the preponderating power of France and 
 frustrating the designs which he charges her with, 
 of attempting the conquest of Canada from the 
 English. On the publication of this production 
 Robert Walsh addressed the author a letter in 
 which, after complimenting him as the originator 
 of the phrase of " Alexander the Deliverer," the 
 opinion is expressed that the oration underrates 
 the military character of Napoleon, eulogizes the 
 Russians unduly, and does not perceive the dan- 
 
ROBERT GOODLOE HARPER. 
 
 639 
 
 gers of Rusaian ascendency. Harper made an 
 elaborate reply, and Walsh responded with a se- 
 cond letter, after which the speech with the cor- 
 respondence was published in a volume. 
 
 Towards the close of his life Harper became an 
 active member of the American Colonization So- 
 ciety, a scheme in which he took a deep interest, 
 not only on national grounds but from his fondness 
 for the-study of the geography of Africa. A long 
 and valuable letter from his pen on the subject 
 appeared in the first Report of the Association in 
 1818. On the fifteenth of January, 1825, while 
 reading his newspaper after breakfast, he fell, was 
 caught in the arms of his son, and a few minutes 
 after died of a disease of the heart. 
 
 lie published at various periods a number of 
 speeches and addresses on the politics of the day. 
 His Select Works, consisting of Speeches on Poli- 
 tical and Forensic Subjects, with the Answer 
 drawn up by him to the articles of impeachment 
 against Judge Chase and sundry political tracts, 
 collated from the original publications and care- 
 fully reoised, vol. i., appeared in Baltimore in 
 1814. it opens with an Address to his constitu- 
 ents, dated December 17, 1795, on the Treaty of 
 November, 179-4, in which he gives his reasons for 
 advocating the measure, and pays an eloquent tri- 
 bute to John Jay. 
 
 But, fellow-citizens, let me ask you, and let me 
 appeal to your cahu dispassionate judgment for an 
 answer, let me ask you, can these frigntful events, 
 these destructive consequences be justly apprehended 
 from a treaty, the whole commercial part of which 
 is to expire at the end of twelve years, and may be 
 terminated by ourselves within two years after the 
 close of the present war? Can any possible opera- 
 tion of a treaty, admitting it to be a disadvantageous, 
 an unwise one, so soon destroy, so speedily ruin, or 
 even in so short a period materially injure the agri- 
 culture, the manufactures, the commerce of Ame- 
 rica, which during the present universal shock in 
 Europe, and under the depredations of all parties, 
 have flourished and increased beyond all former 
 example? 1 confess I cannot conceive it. 
 
 Let me further ask you, fellow-citizens, what rea- 
 sons there are to believe that Mr. Jay would con- 
 clude, Major Pinckney approve, two thirds of the 
 Senate sanction, and the President finally ratify a 
 treaty, " degrading to the national honour, and dan- 
 gerous to the political existence of the United 
 States;" a treaty containing "a prostitution of their 
 sovereignty, and a wanton sacrifice of their rights ;" 
 a treaty which " admits another government to con- 
 trol the legislative functions of the Union," "prosti- 
 tutes the dearest rights of freemen, and lays tliem 
 prostrate at the feet of royalty ?" 
 
 Mr. Jay had a reputation to support, a reputation 
 gained by a long and active public life; would he 
 blast it at once? He has a family growing up 
 around him; would he throw a gloom over all their 
 opening prospects, and nip the bud of their pros- 
 perity, by an act which must involve himself and 
 them in one common disgrace ? He held a distin- 
 guished office, from which the voice of his country 
 might remove him ; would he raise the voice of that 
 country against him, by " prostituting its sove- 
 reignty, and making a wanton sacrifice of its rights?" 
 At the time when lie agreed to this treaty, at the 
 time when he dispatched it to the United States, at 
 the time when without unforeseen and accidental 
 delays it must have arrived and been made public, 
 at that time he was a candidate for an high office in 
 
 his own state, to which he could be raised only by 
 the approbation of his fellow-citizens at large; would 
 he ensure their disapprobation by betraying their 
 dearest interests ? He was opposed by a numerous 
 and powerful party, by a popular and respectable 
 competitor; would he furnish this opposition with 
 irresistible arms against himself, by a.i act which 
 must have drawn on him the public execration ? 
 He is said to be a candidate for the highest trust his 
 country can bestow, a candidate in opposition to 
 men distinguished throughout Europe as wed as 
 America, for their talents and their virtues ; would 
 he for ever blast whatever prospects he may have, by 
 agreeing to " admit another government to control 
 the legislative functions of his country?" No, fellow- 
 citizens! The stations w.iieh Mr. Jay has filled, the 
 long period for which he has enjoyed a spotless repu- 
 tation and possessed the confidence of his country, 
 argue at least a common portion of talents and inte- 
 grity ; and a man must be depraved and foolish to 
 an unusual degree, who, situated as Mr. Jay was, 
 could consent to so atrocious an act as the treaty is 
 represented : could consent to " degrade the national 
 honour, endanger the political existence, and destroy 
 the agricultural, manufacturing, commercial, and 
 shipping interests" of his country : foolish if he could 
 consent to it without seeii.g its tendency, and both 
 foolish and depraved if he saw it and yet consented. 
 
 "We have next Observations on the Dispute be- 
 tween the United States and France, addressed to 
 Ms constituents and published in 1797; followed 
 by a speech on the necessity of resisting the ag- 
 gressions and encroachments of France on the 
 Constitutional powers of the President and Senate 
 in the appointment of foreign ministers ; an argu- 
 ment in the case of William Blount's Impeachment 
 on the question whether a Senator of the United 
 States be liable to impeachment, delivered Janu- 
 ary 5, 1799 ; a letterdated March 5, 1800, enume- 
 rating the services of the Federal party to the 
 United States; a speech in favor of a bill to pre- 
 vent "unauthorized correspondence with any fo- 
 reign government, with intent to influence its 
 conduct towards the United States, or to defeat 
 the measures of our own government," in which 
 he comments with severity on Mr. Gallatin. The 
 volume closes with a speech in favor of the con- 
 tinuance of the Sedition Law, delivered January 
 1, 1801, in which he advocates his views with 
 eloquence. 
 
 We are called on, sir, for the reasons why this act 
 shoidd now be continued. I will give my reasons 
 most freely. Whether they be the same with those 
 which actuate the conduct of other gentlemen, I 
 know not, but in my mind they deserve all consi- 
 deration. I wish to revive this law, sir, as a shield 
 for the liberty of the press, and the freedom of opi- 
 j nion ; as a protection to myself, and those with whom 
 I have the happiness and the honor to think on pub- 
 i lie affairs, should we at any future time be com- 
 pelled by the imbecility or the mistakes of any future 
 administration in this country, to commence an op- 
 position against it: not a factious, profligate, and 
 ; unprincipled opposition, founded on falsehood and 
 j misrepresentation, and catching at the passions and 
 the prejudices of the moment ; but a manly, dignified, 
 candid, and patriotic opposition, addressed to the 
 good sense and virtue of the nation, and resting on 
 | the basis of argument and truth. Should that time 
 j ever arrive, as it may arrive, though I earnestly pray 
 I that it may not, I wish to have this law, which 
 I allows the truth to be given in cvideuce on indict- 
 
610 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ments for libels, I ■wish to have this law as a shield. 
 When indicted myself, for calmly and candidly ex- 
 posing the errors of government, and the incapacity 
 of those who govern, I wish to be enabled, by this 
 law, to go before a jury of my country, and say that 
 what I have written is true. I wish to interpose 
 this law between the freedom of discussion, and the 
 overbearing sway of that tyrannical spirit, by which 
 a certain political party in this country is actuated ; 
 that spirit which arrogating to itself to speak in the 
 name of the people, like fanaticism arrogating to it- 
 self to speak in the name of God, knows neither mo- 
 deration, mercy, nor justice; regards neither feeling, 
 principle, nor right, and sweeps down with relentless 
 fury, all that dares to detect its follies, oppose its 
 progress, or resist its domination. It is my know- 
 ledge of this spirit, sir, of its frantic excesses, its un- 
 feeling tyranny, and its intolerable revenge, that 
 makes me anxious to raise this one mound between 
 its fury and public liberty ; to put into the hands of 
 free discussion, one shield against its darts. This 
 shield, I have little doubt, will at length, and per- 
 haps very soon, be torn away ; for the spirit of 
 which I speak, goaded by conscious inferiority, sti- 
 mulated to madness by the envy of superior talents, 
 reputation, and virtue, knows to brook no check 
 upon its power, no censure upon its excesses. Cut I 
 will not sanction my own death by my own voice. 
 I will not yield one barrier to freedom and the right 
 to opinion, while I can defend it. I regard this law 
 as such a barrier; feeble, perhaps, and ineffectual to 
 check the progress of that tyrannical spirit, which 
 even now can scarce restrain its rage ; but though 
 feeble yet dear to freedom, and never to be aban- 
 doned by freedom's friends. And in order to keep up 
 this barrier to the last, I shall now, while I may, 
 vote for the continuance of that law, which mitigates 
 the rigor of the common law in this respect, and pro- 
 tects the liberty of the press and of opinion, by en- 
 acting that the truth may be given in evidence, on 
 indictments for libels against the government. 
 
 Mr. Harper was much esteemed for his moral 
 worth, his readiness to aid his friends, his cheer- 
 fulness and geniality. His conversational powers 
 were as marked as his ease and freedom in public 
 discourse, and his society was, on this account, 
 much sought after. The hospitalities of his man- 
 sion were ample, and its charities free and liberal. 
 In person he was tall and well proportioned, and 
 his health, until within two or three years of his 
 death, when his constitution was much injured by 
 an attack of bilious fever, excellent. . 
 
 MATIIEW CAEET. 
 Matttew Carey, a voluminous political writer 
 and extensive publisher, was born in Dublin, Ire- 
 land, January 28, 1760. His father, a baker who 
 had accumulated a handsome fortune by the suc- 
 cessful prosecution of his trade, bestowed upon 
 his five sons a liberal education. Mathew evinced 
 at an early age an aptitude fur the study of lan- 
 guages, but made little progress in mathematics. 
 At the age of fifteen he chose the business of 
 printer and bookseller as his future calling against 
 the wishes of his father, who offered him the 
 choice of any of twenty-five other trades. At 
 the age of seventeen he commenced his career as 
 an author by the publication of an essay on Duel- 
 ling in the Hibernian Gazette. In 1779 he pub- 
 lished a pamphlet on the oppression of the Irish 
 Catholics by the penal code, the advertisement of 
 which was so emphatically worded as to attract 
 
 the attention of the Irish Parliament. The pub- 
 lication was suppressed, and the author would 
 have been prosecuted had he not after a few 
 days' concealment been sent to Paris by his 
 friends. Here he became acquainted with Dr. 
 Franklin, who gave him employment at his print- 
 ing-office at Passy. At the end of a year he re- 
 turned unmolested, and was engaged as the con- 
 ductor of a paper called the Freeman's Journal. 
 On the 13th of October, 1783, he published the 
 first number of a paper of his own, the Volun- 
 teer's Journal, the means for the enterprise hav- 
 ing been furnished by his father. It soon had a 
 larger circulation than any newspaper but one in 
 Dublin, and was largely instrumental in forward- 
 ing the plans of the Irish Volunteers. It was not 
 long suffered to escape the attention of the govern- 
 ment. An attack on the parliament and premier 
 in the number of April 5, 1784, was followed by 
 an indictment for libel. He was brought before 
 the House of Commons on the 19th of April, and 
 imprisoned by the sentence of that body in New- 
 gate, where he "lived joyously — companies of 
 gentlemen occasionally dining with him on the 
 choicest luxuries the markets could afford," until 
 the 14th of May, when the authority of Parlia- 
 ment to imprison terminating with their adjourn- 
 ment, he was liberated by the Lord Mayor. A 
 prosecution for the libel on the premier was, 
 however, still hanging over his head, and as his 
 funds had been nearly exhausted in the establish- 
 ment of his newspaper, the fine consequent on a 
 conviction would have heavil}- embarrassed him. 
 By the advice of his friends he again withdrew 
 from the country, and embarked in female dress 
 on board a vessel for Philadelphia, his choice of 
 that city having been determined by reading an 
 account of his own trial in one of its newspapers. 
 The account would, he thought, make him known 
 and secure him friends. After having been run 
 ashore by a drunken pilot in ascending the Dela- 
 ware, the ship landed her passengers, November 
 1, 1784. It happened that a fellow-passenger, by 
 the name of Wallace, brought with him a letter 
 to General Washington. Presenting himself at 
 Mount Vernon, he found Lafayette making his 
 farewell visit. The Marquis, who had read the 
 account of Carey in the Philadelphia papers, in- 
 quired what had become of him, and was informed 
 of his arrival. A short time after Lafayette visit- 
 ed Philadelphia, sent for Carey, and learning that 
 he was desirous to establish a newspaper, pro- 
 mised to recommend him to Robert Morri-i and 
 other influential men. The next morning Carey 
 received a letter from the General inclosing 
 §400, a sum which he had the satisfaction of re- 
 paving on the General's visit to the countrv in 
 1824. On the 25th of the following January he 
 issued the first number of the Pennsylvania He- 
 rald. It soon obtained a reputation by its publi- 
 cation of the debates of the House of Assembly, 
 reported by the editor, as well as by its spirited 
 conduct, which, in the same year, involved its 
 conductor in a controversy with Colonel Oswald, 
 the editor of a journal supported by the Repub- 
 lican or democratic party, leading to a duel in 
 which Carey was wounded a little above the knee, 
 an injury from which he suffered for more than 
 a year. In October, 1786, he commenced, with 
 several partners, the publication of the Colum- 
 
HATHEW CAREY. 
 
 641 
 
 bian Magazine, a monthly. The associates dis- 
 agreeing he withdrew in December,. and in the 
 next January commenced the American Museum, 
 a monthly magazine, intended, as he informs us, 
 " to pre-erve the valuable fugitive essays that ap- 
 peared in the newspapers." It was continued 
 with very indifferent success, but with marked 
 ability, for six years. The volumes contain a 
 greater mass of interesting and valuable literary 
 and historical matter, than is to be found in any 
 other of our early American magazines. In 1791 
 lie married Miss B. Flahavan. On the discon- 
 tinuance of the Museum he commenced business 
 as a bookseller on an humble scale, a large por- 
 tion of his stock consisting of spelling-books. He 
 was present, he informs us, for twenty-five years 
 at the opening of his store, and uniting enterprise 
 with thrift, established one of the most important 
 publishing houses in the Union. In 1793; during 
 the prevalence of the yellow fever, he was an ac- 
 tive member of the Committee of Health, and by 
 his personal observation, in visiting and attending 
 the sick, accumulated a quantity of information, 
 which he collected in a large pamphlet, on the 
 rise, progress, effects, ami termination of the dis- 
 ease, of which four editions were sold. He was, 
 in the same year, the founder of the Hibernian 
 Society for the relief of emigrants from Ireland ; 
 and in 1796 united with some half dozen citizens, 
 under the lead of Bishop White, in the formation 
 of the first Sunday-school society in the United 
 States. He became about the same time involved 
 in a controversy with William Cobbett. In 1802 
 he issued an edition in quarto of the Bible, called 
 the standing edition, from the circumstance of 
 the entire volume being kept in type to supply 
 the demand for re-impressions. With the excep- 
 tion of Luther's Bible, the type of which is said 
 to have been left standing for over a century, this 
 is believed to have been the first edition of the 
 Holy Scriptures thus issued. The invention of 
 stereotyping soon after obviated the necessity of 
 so costly an expedient. On the first of June of 
 the same year the booksellers and printers of the 
 Union met in New York, at the suggestion of Mr. 
 Carey, under whose guidance an association simi- 
 lar to the Book Fairs of Germany was formed, 
 under the presidency of their oldest associate, 
 Hugh Gaine. The plan did not work well, and 
 after four or five years was abandoned, its place 
 being subsequently occupied by the Trade Sales. 
 In 1806, while a member of the Select Council of 
 Philadelphia, Mr. Carey published a pamphlet in 
 favor of subjecting personal property to taxation 
 as well as real estate. An ordinance to effect 
 this object was passed by the Select but rejected 
 by the Common Council of the city. In 1810 he 
 again appeared before the public, in opposition to 
 the party with which he was connected, as an 
 advocate for the renewal of the charter of the 
 United States Bank. He conducted his share of 
 the controversy with great energy, writing fre- 
 quent articles in the newspapers, and publishing 
 pamphlets also of his own composition, which he 
 distributed at his own expense. In 1814 he pub- 
 lished the Olive Branch, a work designed to har- 
 monize the two furiously antagonistic parties of 
 the country. Ten editions were exhausted, form- 
 ing in all ten thousand copies, an immense sale 
 for that period. Its influence was as extensive as 
 vol. t. — 41 
 
 its circulation, and it probably contributed in no 
 slight degree towards that political repose which 
 marked the administration of Monroe. 
 
 In 1817 the agitation of Catholic emancipation 
 in Ireland urged Carey to the prosecution of a 
 design which he had long had in contemplation. 
 He was still further excited by the publication of 
 Godwin's novel of Mandeville, presenting in pow- 
 erful colors a view which he considered unjust of 
 the Irish insurrection of 1641. In consequence 
 of this he set to work to prepare an account of 
 his native country which should expose the errors 
 and misstatements of English historians. He 
 made a large collection of materials, and planned 
 his work with great deliberation, but sent his 
 manuscript as fast as each day's work was com- 
 pleted to the printer, so that it was in type al- 
 most as soon as written. It appeared under the 
 title of Vindieim Hibernicce in 1818, with such 
 success that four editions were called for. 
 
 Mr. Carey shortly after became a warm advo- 
 cate of a protective tariff. He published from 
 1819 to 1833 no less than fifty-nine separate pam- 
 phlets on this subject, amounting to twenty-three 
 hundred and twenty-two pages. Many of these 
 passed through several editions, were reprinted 
 in newspapers, and regarded as authoritative ami 
 valuable exponents of the views they advocated. 
 In addition to these publications Mr. Carey was 
 a frequent advocate in the newspapers of the 
 same opinions. In 1833 and '4 he contributed to 
 the New England Magazine his Autobiography, 
 in an extended and somewhat desultory series of 
 articles. 
 
 In addition to these literary labors and those 
 connected with his extensive business relations, 
 Mr. Carey was an active advocate of the internal 
 improvements of his city and state, especially of 
 the construction of the Chesapeake and Delaware 
 canal. He was throughout his life a benevolent 
 man, and towards its close his attention was 
 chiefly devoted to the relief of the many who 
 sought his aid in the furtherance of associations of 
 
642 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 benevolence. He died in the eity with which he 
 had so long and so honorably identified his inte- 
 rests on the 16th of September, 1839. ' 
 
 WILLIAM MUXFORD. 
 
 William MuSfo'bd w.-is born in Mecklenburg 
 county, Virginia, August 15, 1775. His father, 
 Col. Robert Munford, a distinguished patriot of 
 the Revolution, was the author of two dramatic 
 compositions, entitled " The Candidate" and " The 
 Patriots," illustrating the political corruption of 
 his day, which, with some minor poems, were 
 published at Petersburg, Va., in 1798.* 
 
 The son, early left by his father's death in the 
 charge of his mother, a lady of superior accom- 
 plishments, was educated at "William and Mary, 
 where he was the pupil of the eminent George 
 Wythe, from whom he derived a taste for classical 
 literature, which accompanied him through life. 
 Having further studied law with Wythe, at the 
 early age of twenty-one, in 1797, he was elected 
 to the House of Delegates from his native county, 
 and after a service of four years was chosen a 
 senator from the district. In that body he also 
 served a term of four years, and, at the end of 
 that period was elected a member of the Privy 
 Council of State, when he changed his residence 
 to Richmond. He continued in the Council 
 until the year 1811, when he received the honor- 
 able and lucrative appointment of Clerk of the 
 House of Delegates, an office which lie held till 
 his death. Besides the faithful discharge, of these 
 public trusts, he reported for several years the 
 decisions of the Supreme Court of Appeals in 
 Virginia, of which four volumes, from 1806 to 
 1809, were prepared in conjunction with William 
 W. Hening, and six, from 1810 to 1820, were 
 from his own pen. He was likewise one of -the 
 chosen assistants of Benjamin Watkins Leigh, in 
 the revision of the Virginia Statute Laws in 
 1819. 
 
 His literary productions were, an early volume 
 of Poems and Compositions in Prose on Several 
 Occasions, published at Richmond in 1798, which 
 includes a tragedy, "Almoran and Hamet," se- 
 veral versifications of Ossian, translations from 
 Horace, and a number of occasional poems, 
 patriotic and satirical. As juvenile verses they 
 show some crudity, while the selection of subjects 
 is creditable to the tastes of the writer. In 1806, 
 he delivered in the capitol at Richmond, a fune- 
 ral eulogium on his venerable friend Chancellor 
 Wythe.t His chief literary work, to which he 
 gave the leisure of his life, was his translation of 
 the Iliad of Homer into blank verse, which he com- 
 pleted, but which was not published till after his 
 death. \ It is sometimes a spirited, generally a cor- 
 rect, and throughout a pains-taking version; if 
 lacking in that poetic gusto which is requisite to 
 reproduce the rare qualities of the original, it is 
 at least an honorable addition to a life of profes- 
 sional occupation, and may be read with satisfac- 
 tion. At the time of undertaking it, the author 
 tells us, he had not seen the translation in similar 
 measure by Cowper. On its publication, it had 
 
 * Griswold's Poets of Amcrca, p. 8. 
 t Sandufsbn's Lives of the Signers, it 17G. 
 % Homer's Iliad : translated by William Munford. 2 vols. 
 8vu. Boston : Litt'.o & Brown. 1S46. 
 
 the fortune to be reviewed by Felton in the 
 North American Review, by C. A. Bristed in 
 the American Whig Review, and by the Rev. N. 
 L. Frothingham in the Christian Examiner,* 
 with various degrees of favor ; and the articles 
 contain besides much interesting information, 
 in the comparison of the work of different trans- 
 lators. 
 
 Munford died at his residence in Richmond, 
 June 21, 1825. 
 
 THE GODS MINGLING IN THE BATTLE — FROM THE TWENTIETH 
 BOOK OF THE ILIAD. 
 
 They, with minds 
 Discordant, hasten'd to the scene of strife; 
 Juno and Pallas to Achaia's fleet, 
 With Neptune, girder of the spacious globe, 
 Hermes, benevolent and wise, of arts 
 Inventor, Vulcan, terrible in strength, 
 Rolling dread threatening eyes, but lame of foot, 
 And dragging after him distorted limbs ; 
 But, to the host of Troy, Mars, rapidly 
 His crested helmet shaking, Phoebus, bright, 
 With locks unshorn, Diana, glorying 
 In bows and arrows keen ; Latona fair, 
 Their honor'd mother ; Nanthus, river god, 
 And lovely Venus queen of heavenly smiles. 
 While yet the gods from men apart remain, 
 The Greeks exult with joy unlimited, 
 That great Achilles in their van appears, 
 Achilles, absent long from horrid tight! 
 Wot so the Trojans, they cold tremor felt 
 In every limb ; for, terror-struck, they saw 
 The swift Pelides, blazing in his arms, 
 Dreadful as Mars, the bane of human kind ! 
 But when the gods, among the throng of men 
 Embattled, came, then raging Discord rose, 
 Rousing the nations. Fierce Minerva, then, 
 Shouted terrific ; now beside the fosse 
 Fronting the wall, now near the sounding shore 
 She stood, and rais'd her loud tremendous voice. 
 This awful shout. Mars, opposite, return'd, 
 Terrific as a roaring midnight storm, 
 From Ilion's towery height, with outcry shrill. 
 The Trojan host encouraging, and thence 
 Flying to Simois, and the beauteous mount 
 Callicolone. Thus the blessed gods, 
 Exciting Troy and Greece, both armies urg'd 
 To fell contention ; and, with horrid shock, 
 They rush'd against each other. Dread, above, 
 Thunder'd the awful sire of men and gods! 
 Beneath, stern Neptune shook the boundless earth, 
 And bent the summits of her highest hills ; 
 Huge Ida's deep foundations, and her cliffs, 
 Sources of many rolling rivers, all 
 Were shaken, with the Trojan city, too, 
 And navy of the Greeks. The king of shades, 
 Tremendous Pluto, in the nether realm, 
 That dire concussion felt, and from his throne 
 Affrighted leap'd, and gave a fearful cry; 
 Lest he that shakes the solid globe should rei.d 
 Its mighty mass asunder, and, to sight 
 Of mortals and immortals, open lay 
 The dark abodes of terror, loathsome, foul, 
 Which e'en the gods themselves with horror view. 
 Such was the wild commotion, when the gods 
 That conflict join'd ; for radiant Phcebus, arm'd 
 With winged arrows, ocean's king oppos'd, 
 And sage Minerva strove with furious Mars ; 
 The golden-quiver'd huntress with bent bow, 
 And echoing horn, rousing the woodlands wide, 
 Diana, sister of the god of day, 
 
 * Si A. Eev., No. 132. Whig Ecview, Oct. 1S46. Chris. 
 Ex., Sip. 1846. 
 
PAUL ALLEN. 
 
 643 
 
 Defied imperial Juno ; Hermes, sire 
 Of useful arts, benignant friend to man, 
 Against Latona warr'd ; and Vulcan's strength 
 The mighty river, foaming, deep, and swift, 
 Resisted ; Xanthus, by immortals nam'd, 
 By mortals call'd Scamander. Thus oppos'd, 
 Gods against gods, were mingled in the fray. 
 
 PAUL ALLEN. 
 
 Paul Allen was born at Providence, R. I., on the 
 fifteenth day of February, 1775. Soon after the 
 completion of his education at Brown University, 
 in 1796, he removed to Philadelphia, where he 
 became a contributor to the Port Folio and the 
 United States Gazette. In 1801, he published 
 a small volume, Original Poems, Serious and 
 Entertaining (printed by Joshua Gushing, Sa- 
 lem). He also prepared for the press by re-writ- 
 ing the Journal of Lewis and Clark's Expedition. 
 He seems to have been more conscientious in this 
 performance underthe names of others than under 
 his own, as he about the same time issued pro- 
 posals for a Life of Washington, and received a 
 large number of subscribers, without having writ- 
 ten a line, or made the least preparatory study for 
 the work. It was promised season after season, 
 while the author still neglected to put pen to pa- 
 per, or consult a single volume in fulfilment of 
 his contract. 
 
 After the publication of Lewis and Clark's Tra- 
 vel-, he was engaged as an editor of the Federal 
 Republican newspaper ; but a disagreement with 
 his associates led to a separation, which was fol- 
 lowed by a period of mental hallucination and 
 poverty so extreme that he was imprisoned for a 
 debt of thirty dollars. 
 
 His friends rallied to his aid and started a pa- 
 per, the "Journal of the Times," for the sake of 
 giving him an editorial chair. The project was 
 unsuccessful, but a second attempt at Baltimore, 
 the Morning Chronicle, secured him a support by 
 its wide circulation. It was then resolved to bring 
 out the long promised life of Washington. It was 
 written by Meal and Watkins, and appeared under 
 the name of Allen, who wrote a page or two 
 of the preface, in two volumes, in 1821. 
 
 John Neal did his friend another equally good 
 service, by reducing his poem of Noah, it having 
 been submitted to his revision, to one fifthlof its 
 original dimensions. As this fifth, which was 
 published in 1821, contains five cantos, and would 
 be improved by a second reduction, the poem in 
 its primeval proportions must have been peculiar- 
 ly suggestive in quality and quantity, as well as 
 title, of the event it celebrates. It began with the 
 small drop of " a little sonnet addressed to a 
 dove," which it was the author's " first impres- 
 sion," as he naively states in his preface, " would 
 comprehend and exhaust all that he should have 
 to say upon the subject." 
 
 The poem as published commences, whether 
 owing to Mr. Neul's clippings we know not, with 
 the sending forth of the Raven. The other events 
 
 of the Bible, narrative follow in due sequence ; 
 but an episode occupying the fourth canto is in- 
 troduced, directed against the disbelievers in the 
 unity of the race. 
 
 The author claims the merit of simplicity in his 
 preface, and is fairly entitled to do so. The gene- 
 ral course of the verse is pleasing, and we occa- 
 sionally meet with happy lines like this — 
 
 And each loud rain-drop beats a funeral knell. 
 
 His description of the exodus of the animals from 
 the Ark is spirited, but contains occasional cou- 
 plets, which, however true to nature, have slight 
 connexion with poetry. 
 The Elephant. 
 
 What venturous son of Adam dares oppose, 
 That might3' arm projecting from his nose? 
 The Hyena. 
 
 Take warning from the brutes, behold they stir, 
 And gaze and tremble at that shining fur. 
 The Dog. 
 
 Come, let thy social tail express to all 
 Thy heartfelt raptures at thy master's calL 
 
 The career of the offspring of Japhet, by which 
 the author represents his own countrymen, is one 
 of the best passages in the Poem. It is followed 
 by a contest between the lion and eagle, British 
 and American. The former, to Noah's dismay, 
 attacks Japhet's son, and the latter thus comes to 
 the rescue. 
 
 He prayed, then paused, and lo! the Zodiac rings 
 With the loud clangor of descending wings ! 
 The clouds disperse, and now by heavenly grace, 
 An Eagle, soaring in his pride of place, 
 Was seen, the head of Japheth hovering o'er; 
 
 J A thunderbolt the pluming stranger bore — 
 The .Patriarch shuddered at the dreadful sight. 
 He gazed again, and oh ! with what delight, 
 
 | He saw that harbinger of peace serene, 
 The smiling olive — with its leaf of green , 
 Bright o'er his wings, and in a ground of blue, 
 A constellation broke on Noah's view : 
 
 ! He knelt with lowly reverence on the ground, 
 And thirteen stars were seen to sparkle round ; 
 
 i The lion saw the shining guard display, 
 Their lances beaming in the blaze of day: 
 Back o'er the wave he fled, that very hour, 
 And left the child that he would fain devour. 
 
 Allen remained editor of the Chronicle until his 
 death in 1826. 
 
 THE CHILD OF JAPHET. 
 
 A boy the wondering Patriarch next descried, 
 Serene in youthful beauty by his side, 
 He saw each gentle smile, each budding grace, 
 That bloomed more largely in his Japheth's face. 
 The form, the air, the features, well he knew, 
 His bounding heart proclaimed the vision true. 
 
 Onward he passed— and Noah saw with fear, 
 A child so young had no kind parent near, 
 Alas, who knows what terrors may await! 
 What dangers threat his unprotected state. 
 Shield him, ye angels! for his fate is hard, 
 Be thou, blest Providence, the pilgrim's guard 1 
 
 The Patriarch now beheld this little child 
 Abandoned to a vast.and gloomy wild — 
 Here savage beasts were howling round for prey, 
 Here savage man was seen, more fierce than thcv. 
 Through the dark tangled thickets, Noah spies 
 The cruel glances of ferocious eyes, 
 
6U 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 The frown of scorn, contortions strange and wild, 
 All beut intensely on this wandering child. 
 
 Onward lie passed, his nerves no danger shook, 
 He cast to heaven, a calm confiding look, 
 The selfsame quiet gaze an infant shows, 
 Who, when surrounded by a thousand foes, 
 Casts but an eye, and sees a parent near, 
 Then forward moves insensible to fear! 
 For well he knows, that steadfast eye surveys 
 Each feeble tottering footstep, as he strays; 
 He knows that voice, with tenderness replete, 
 Will oft reprove the errors of his feet: 
 Secure and anxious never to offend 
 His kind protecting father and his friend, 
 The boy sees only, in the hour of harm. 
 Outstretched salvation in that powerful arm. 
 
 And thus did Japheth in the hour of care 
 Rely on heaven, for all his strength was there. 
 He passed, protected by an holy spell, 
 Down at his feet the swift winged arrows fell. 
 
 Onward he passed — the hostile tribes dismayed, 
 To see an infant without human aid 
 Defy their vengeance — felt a sacred awe, 
 Astonished at the prodigy they saw. 
 A power, superior far to mortal arts, 
 Wrought such unnatural terror in their hearts, 
 In deep astonishment they now began 
 To think the wondrous stranger more than man. 
 
 Onward he passed — and now with wild surprise. 
 The savage man and beast before him flies ; 
 Howling with dread they sought the forest shade, 
 Warned by the beam that round his temples played : 
 "No eye of hostile vengeance could endure 
 The light of innocence, so calm, so pure. 
 
 Onward he passed — through perils how severe ; 
 The giant forests bowed as lie drew near, 
 Prostrated all their honours, and expressed 
 Their reverence for so wonderful a guest. 
 Where'er he trod, as by divine command, 
 His footsteps in this dark and howling land, 
 Betokened life, and joy, and light serene, 
 All gay with flowers, or bright with cheerful green. 
 Thus when the storms of winter pass away, 
 Succeeded by the blj'thesome vernal day : 
 A fairy spirit wanders, none can see; 
 So light, so thin, so delicate is she. 
 She rides the wandering zephyr, as he roves 
 Through garden walks, or more majestic groves, 
 Touches the withered herb — 'tis decked in bloom, 
 She breathes — the floweret catches the perfume; 
 She speaks, and joy, and mirth, and transport now, 
 In spangled plumes are seen on every bough ; 
 In every place, the welcome stranger meets 
 A breathing gratitude of varied sweets. 
 
 Onward did Japheth pass, where savage men, 
 And savage beasts had shared one common den ; 
 The lofty turrets and the sacred spires 
 Held glittering parlance with the solar fires, 
 And forms of female innocence were seen, 
 Beside the cottage, all embowered in green, 
 Teaching the devious needle as it strays, 
 To lead the snowy thread through every maze ; 
 While others taught the embryo flowers to bloom, 
 Or sung to the sweet labours of the loom. 
 
 Onward he passed, his visage shone so clear, 
 That mountains, rivers, inland seas appear; 
 And as the wondrous infant nearer drew, 
 They stood unveiled to Noah's ravished view ; 
 Mountains, whose shade expanding in the ray, 
 Seemed sable blots upon the face of day. 
 As if they strove in all their pride of height 
 To measure shadows with the solar light; 
 
 Rivers, still rushing with resistless force, 
 
 Afar those shining serpents, wound their course, 
 
 Far even as prophetic eye could strain, 
 
 And sought in sweeping majesty the maiji — 
 
 Through forests deep, o'er meads, and down the vales, 
 
 The Patriarch saw the glitter of their scales; 
 
 Seas, inland seas, that chafing with disdain, 
 
 At such seclusion from the parent main — • 
 
 Like fierce imprisoned spirits rave and roar, 
 
 And strive to burst the bondage of the shore. 
 
 LYMAN BEECnEK. 
 Lyman Beeoiiek, a divine, who recalls by his 
 vigor and activity through a long life the remem- 
 brance of the best days of the New England pul- 
 pit, was born at New Haven, Connecticut, Sep- 
 tember 12, 1775. He was educated at Yule, 
 pursued theology under the supervision of Presi- 
 dent Bwight, was ordained and settled at East 
 Hampton, Long Island, in 1798. In 1810, he 
 removed to Litchfield, Conn., where lie remained 
 actively engaged, in addition to his parochial 
 duties, in the foundation of the Connecticut Mis- 
 sionary, the Education, the Bible, and other 
 societies formed for the advancement of the Chris- 
 tian cause, until 1826, when he accepted a call to 
 the Hanover Street Church, where he continued 
 until 1832, becoming the President of the Lane 
 Theological Seminary, Cincinnati. He resigned 
 this office in 1842, and returned to Boston, where 
 he still resides. His chief publications consist of 
 sermons and addresses, and a work on Political 
 Atheism. A collection of his writings, in four 
 compact duodecimo volumes, was made in Bos- 
 ton in 1852. 
 
 The energy and activity which have charac- 
 terized every stage of I'r. Beecher's long, useful, 
 and laborious career, have descended in unim- 
 paired vigor to his children. Of his four sons, 
 all eminent in the ministry, one — Charles Beecher 
 — has published a popular volume, The Incarna- 
 tion ; or, Pictures of the Virgin and her Son. 
 Another brother, Edward, has written a duodeci- 
 mo volume on Baptism, its Import and Modes; 
 anil an ingenious work, entitled The Conflict pf 
 Ages, in which he maintains a theory, referring 
 the origin of evil to a supposed existence of the pro- 
 genitors of the human race prior to Adam ; and 
 a third, Henry Ward Beecher, is one of the most 
 popular speakers of the day. His sermons attract 
 an audience, Sunday after Sunday, sufficient to 
 crowd the large place of worship in Brooklyn, of 
 which he is pa-tor ; and he is equally favored in 
 his frequent appearances as a lecturer on topics 
 of the day. 
 
 Tire daughters of Dr. Beecher contribute their 
 full share to the general activity of the family. 
 Miss Catharine Beecher is the author of Domestic 
 Service; the Duty of American Women to their 
 Country ; Housekeeper's Beccipt-Boolc ; Moral In- 
 structor ; The True Remedy for the Wrongs of 
 Woman, with a History of an Enterprise having 
 that for its object ; Treatise on Domestic Economy ; 
 and Truth Stranger than Fiction, a vigorous 
 denunciation of the alleged flirtations of young 
 divinity students. These volumes are of small 
 compass, and designed for wide popular influ- 
 ence. 
 
 Of the other sister, Mrs. Stowe, we shall have 
 occasion to speak at a later period. 
 
JOHN HENRY HOBART. 
 
 645 
 
 "The Beecher family," remarks a writer in the 
 North American Review,* " almost constitute a 
 genus by themselves. The same t3'pe of mind 
 and style is reproduced in the writings of the 
 venerable father and of his singularly gifted chil- 
 dren, though stiffening into a certain solemn 
 stateline -s in the author of The Conflict of Ages, 
 and in Henry Ward trenching close upon the 
 dividing line between licit humor and lithe buf- 
 foonery. The father, in his palmy days, was un- 
 equalled among living divines for dialectic keen- 
 ness, scathing invective, pungent appeal, lambent 
 wit, hardy vigor of thought, and concentrated 
 power of expression ; but he always fumbled over 
 an extra-Scriptural metaphor, and exhibited little 
 beauty except that of strength and holiness, — a 
 beauty which never shone from him so resplen- 
 dently as now, that, on the verge of fourscore, it 
 hallows the sunset of as noble a life as man ever 
 led, and presages the dawning of a renewed 
 youth in a more exalted sphere of the Divine 
 service." 
 
 JOHN HENEY HOBAET. 
 Jonx Henry Hobart, a descendant from Joshua 
 Hobart, one of the early settlers of Ma-sachusetts 
 Bay, was born in Philadelphia, September 14, 
 1775. He was prepared for college in the Protes- 
 tant Episcopal Academy of that city, under the 
 charge of the Rev. Dr. Andrews, afterwards 
 Provost of the University, and was graduated from 
 Princeton College in 17U3. He was then induced 
 to engage in mercantile pursuits, a mode of life 
 which he abandoned after a brief trial, for the 
 ministry. While engaged in Ms preparatory 
 studies he received and accepted the appointment 
 of tutor in Princeton College, which he retained 
 until his ordination by Bishop White, in June, 
 1798. He commenced his clerical labors by 
 taking charge of two country parishes, Trinity, 
 Oxford, and All Saints', Pequestan. In the fol- 
 lowing year he accepted a call to New Brunswick, 
 but preferring the quiet of a country parish, 
 removed to Hempstead, Long Island. During his 
 ministry at this place, he married a daughter of 
 the Rev. Dr. Chandler, the learned and zealous 
 defender of Episcopacy in the controversy on that 
 subject before the Revolution. In Docemberof the 
 same year, he became assistant minister of Trinity 
 Church, New York, where be *o;>n attained a 
 high rank as an eloquent preacher. In 1804, lie 
 published a small devotional volume, The Com- 
 panion for the Altar. It was followed by the 
 Companion to the Booh of Common Prayer, and 
 in 1807 by his Apology for Apostolic Order, a 
 work designed as a reply to the strictures of the 
 Rev. John M. Mason on Episcopacy in the 
 Christian Magaziue. In 1808, he commenced a 
 monthly periodical, The Churchman's Magazine. 
 In May, 1811, he was elected Assistant Bishop of 
 New York, the Bishop, Dr. Moore, being incapa- 
 citated by age for the performance of official duty. 
 One of the earliest acts of his Episcopate was to 
 urge upon the Convention the founding of an 
 institution for the education of the ministry. 
 His exertions were seconded by those of others, 
 and resulted in the establishment of the General 
 Protestant Episcopal Seminary. 
 
 * Oct. 1S54, p. i i. 
 
 In 1815, he published a Pastoral Letter to the 
 Laity on the Bible and Common Prayer Book 
 Society, in which he urged the propriety of the 
 distribution of the Prayer Book with the Bible. 
 This occasioned much opposition from those who 
 were in favor of a general union of all sects, in 
 the distribution of the sacred volume alone. An 
 institution of this character, the American Bible 
 Society, was soon after established. The Bishop, 
 fearless in the discharge of what lie considered to 
 be his duty, published an Address to Episcopalians, 
 in which he urged those under his charge to 
 refrain from supporting a plan which would neces- 
 sarily weaken their own agency for promoting 
 the same object. In his charge to the Convention 
 of 1815, on the Nature of the Christian Ministry 
 as set forth in the Offices of Ordination, he still 
 further enforced his views of the inexpediency of 
 union between those who differed widely in 
 essential points of doctrine. He was soon after 
 called upon to preach the funeral sermon of Ins 
 associate. Bishop Moore. On the publication of 
 this disc mrse, he appended to it a Dissertation on 
 the State of Departed Spirits and the Descent of 
 Christ into Hell, in which he advocated the 
 I doctrine of an intermediate state of consciousness 
 I between death and the .resurrection, with a 
 I thoroughness which has caused the essay to 
 become a standard authority upon the subject. 
 
 In 1823, Bishop Hobart sailed for Europe, the 
 relaxation of travel having become necessary for 
 the re-establishment of his health, impaired by 
 his unremitting labors. He remained about two 
 years abroad. During his visit to England, where 
 he was very warmly received, he published two 
 volumes of sermons, which were immediately re- 
 printed in this city. The Sunday after his return, 
 he preached a sermon in Trinity Church, in which 
 he compared the countries he had visited with 
 his own, and dwelt with force upon the superior 
 advantages of our voluntary system over an esta- 
 blished church for the promotion of Christianity. 
 The discourse was printed and excited much com- 
 ment, both in this country and in England. 
 
 The Bishop, restored to health, resumed the 
 duties of his office with his wonted efficiency, 
 continuing their discharge to the moment of his 
 last illness. He was attacked by a fever while at 
 Auburn, in the course pf his visitation of the 
 diocese, and died at that place after a brief illness, 
 September 12, 1830. A collection of his Post- 
 humous Works, with a Memoir by the Rev. 
 William Berrian, D.D., Rector of Trinity Church, 
 was published in 1 883* His life was also written 
 by the Rev. John M'Vickar.t 
 
 The character of Bishop Hobart was warm, 
 generous, impulsive ; quick in intellect, benevo- 
 lent in temper, and of unwearied activity in all the 
 habits of life. Ho was always busy with earnest 
 devotion to his Christian calling, while he did not 
 neglect the social courtesies and innocent enjoy- 
 ments of life. He had a scholar's taste for books, 
 and a poet's enjoyment of nature. A well stored 
 library gratified the one, and a small but nobly 
 situated piece of land on the historic site in New 
 
 * The Posthumous Works of the late Et. Eev. John Henry 
 Hobart, D.D. With a Memoir of his Life, bv the Rev. William 
 Berrian, D.D. 8 vos. Svo. Swords, Stanford & Co. 
 
 t In a series of three volumes, the Early, the Professional, 
 and the Closing Years of Bishop J. H. Hobart. 
 
646 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Jersey among the Short Hills, where Washington 
 had held his post of observation, ministered to the 
 other in his few opportunities for rural retire- 
 ment. 
 
 His pulpit style was quick and energetic. No 
 audience ever slumbered under his preaching. 
 
 His services to his church were constant and 
 untiring. Death found him away from home 
 engaged in a laborious visitation of his diocese. 
 New York, whither his remains were brought, 
 ' gave a distinguished testimony to his personal 
 character in the long procession which followed 
 on foot in his funeral from the parsonage attached 
 to St. John's Church in Hudson Square to Old 
 Trinity, where a fine monument, sculptured by 
 Ball Hughes, was erected to his memory. 
 
 AMERICA!* PRINCIPLES OF CIVIL FETvEDOM.* 
 
 Let us never withhold the acknowledgment, that 
 from the first of European nations, drawing our 
 origin, we have also derived her admirable princi- 
 ples of civil freedom. Rejecting, indeed, the feudal 
 characteristics of her polity, the monarchical and 
 aristocratic features of her constitution, we broadly 
 and fearlessly recognise the great truth, that though, 
 in its general powers, and in its sanctions, govern- 
 ment is " ordained of God," in the particular form of 
 its administration " it is the ordinance of man ;" and 
 that, in this sense, the people only are the source of 
 that political power, which, when exercised accord- 
 ing to the legitimate forms of the constitution which 
 thej* have established, cannot be resisted, but under 
 the penalty of resisting the ''ordinance of God." 
 Still, though, in these respects, our governments 
 differ from that of England, let us gratefully remem- 
 ber, that from her we have derived not only many of 
 her unrivalled maxims of jurisprudence, those which 
 protect the freedom of the subject and secure the 
 trial by jury, but those great principles which con- 
 stitute the superiority of the modern republics above 
 the ancient democracies. These are, the principle 
 of representation ; the division of the legislative, 
 executive, and judiciary departments; the check on 
 the exercise of the power of legislation by its dis- 
 tribution among three branches; the independence 
 of the judiciary on all influence, except that of the 
 constitution and the laws ; and its accountability, and 
 that of the executive, to the people, in the persons 
 of their representatives ; and thus what constitutes 
 the characteristic blessing. of a free people, a govern- 
 ment of laws securing to all the enjoyment of life, 
 of liberty, and of property. 
 
 But even in this, next to our own, the freest of 
 nations, it is impossible not to form a melancholy 
 contrast between the power and the splendour and 
 the w r ealth of those to whom the structure of society 
 and the aristocratic nature of the government assign 
 peculiar privileges of rank and of political conse- 
 quence, with the dependent and often abject condi- 
 tion of the lower orders; and not to draw* the con- 
 clusion, that the one is the unavoidable result of the 
 other. 
 
 Advantages confessedly there may be in privi- 
 leged orders, as constituting an hereditary and per- 
 manent source of political knowledge and talent, 
 and of refinement and elevation of character, of feel- 
 ing, and of manners. And in this view, no men can 
 be more imposing or more interesting than the high- 
 minded noblemen and gentlemen of England. But, 
 in this imperfect world, we cannot enjoy at the 
 
 * From the Discourse on the United States of America com- 
 pared with European Countries, 1825. 
 
 same time all possible advantages. And those which 
 result from the hereditary elevation of one small 
 class of society, must produce in all the noble quali- 
 ties which distinguish independent freemen, a cor- 
 responding depression of the great mass of the com- 
 muuit} 7 . And can we for a moment hesitate which 
 state of society to prefer? No. It is the glorious 
 characteristic of our admirable polity, that the 
 power, and the property, and the happiness, which 
 in the old nations of the world are confined to the 
 few, are distributed among the many; that the 
 liveliness and content which pervade the humblest 
 classes among us, are not the meie result of that 
 buoyancy of animal spirits which nature seems to 
 have kindly infused into our frame, and which man 
 shares with the beast that sports in the field or 
 courses over the plain — but a sober sentiment of 
 independence, nurtured by the consciousness that in 
 natural rights and original political power all are 
 equal. The obedience, therefore, which fear in a 
 great measure extorts from the mass of the people 
 of other countries, is here the voluntary offering of a 
 contented and happy, because, in the broadest sense 
 of the term — a free people. 
 
 PHILANDEE CHASE. 
 
 Bishop Chase, one of the greatest promoters of 
 institutions of sound learning in the United States, 
 was a descendant from Aquila Chase, a native of 
 Cornwall, England, who came to America in 
 1640, and after a residence of live years at Hamp- 
 ton, New Hampshire, settled at Newbury, Massa- 
 chusetts. His grandson, Dudley, the father of the 
 bishop, removed with his several brothers to a 
 township of which he had obtained a grant on 
 the Connecticut river, above Fort No. 4, now 
 Charleston, which was then the limit of settle- 
 ment. After planting a crop, but before the 
 settlers could build a house, he was joined by his 
 wife, who was the first white woman who sought 
 a home above Fort No. 4. The scene, as described 
 by his mother, is happily narrated in the bishop's 
 Reminiscences. 
 
 " With your leave, madam," said Pilot Spalding, 
 " I think it prudent that your husband come to us, 
 and give orders where he will have his family 
 lauded." Accordingly he made fast the canoe to the 
 willows, and desired us to await his return. Your 
 father could get no direct answer from Spalding as 
 to the nature of the cargo he had brought. " Come 
 and s 2e," was all he would say. " Is all well ?" said 
 your father, " have you brought us a good supply 
 of food* " " Co Tie and see," replied Spalding, with 
 animation, and in an instant they burst upon our 
 view ; and as your dear father stood on the margin 
 of the high bank, he saw beneath his feet the frail 
 bark, in which were his wife and children. The 
 emotion was almost too much for him. I saw this, 
 aal sprang forward, the children quickly following. 
 He received us with a mixture of joy mingled with 
 agony. " Are you come to die here," he exclaimed, 
 '• before your time ? We have no house to shelter 
 you, and you will perish before we can get one 
 erected." " Cheer up, cheer up, my faithful ! " said 
 I to your father; "let the smiles and the rudly 
 
PHILANDER CHASE. 
 
 647 
 
 faces of your children, and the health and cheer- 
 fulness of your wife, make you joyful. If you have 
 no house, you have stre.igth and hands to make one. 
 The God we worship will bless us, and help us to 
 obtain a shelter. Cheer up, cheer up, my faithful ! " 
 The sunshine of joy and iiope beg.in to beam 
 from liis countenance; the news was communicated 
 throughout the company of workmen, and the woods 
 rang with shouts at the arrival of the first white 
 woman, and the first family on the banks of the 
 Connecticut river above Fort Number Four. All 
 assembled to see the strangers, a:id strove to do them 
 acts of kindness. The trees were quickly felled and 
 peeled, and the clean bark in large sheets was spread 
 for a floor; other sheets being fastened by thongs 
 of twisted twigs to stakes driven in the ground, 
 were raised for walls or laid on cross-pieces for a 
 roof; and the cheerful fire soon made glad our little 
 dwelling. The space of three hours was not con- 
 sumed in effecting this ; and never were men more 
 happy than those who contributed thus speedily and 
 effectually to supply our wants. Beds were brought 
 from the canoe to this rustic pavilion, and on them 
 we rested sweetly, fearless of danger, though the 
 thick foliage was wet with dew, and the wild beasts 
 howled all around us, trusting to the protecting 
 hand of Providence, and the watchful fidelity of our 
 faithful neighbors. 
 
 The settlement was called Cornish, in honor of 
 the ancient family home, and prospered. It was 
 here that Philander Chase was born, December 
 14-, 1775. He was the younge.t of a family of 
 fourteen, and derived his Christian name from one 
 of the characters of Young's Night Thoughts, of 
 which lie tells us his father was so great an ad- 
 mirer, that he knew the whole poem by heart. 
 One of his brothers, Dudley, became Chief Justice 
 of Vermont, and Senator of the United States. 
 Philander was brought up on the farm, with the 
 expectation of leading an agricultural life, when 
 in his fifteenth year he broke his leg, and in the 
 season of confinement which consequently ensued, 
 was advised by his father to change his plans. 
 
 The advice was followed, and in the fall of 
 1701, after a preparation of less than a year, he 
 entered Dartmouth College. It was here, he states, 
 that in the winter of 1793 and '4 he became ac- 
 quainted with the Book of Common Prayer, and 
 soon after, with many of his relatives, conformed 
 to the church in which he was to occupy a pro- 
 minent position. 
 
 After taking his degree in 1795, he went to 
 Albany in search of " an English clergyman," 
 who was said to reside in that city. His nar- 
 rative relates the result. 
 
 Having passed Market, he entered Court street, 
 and, stopping at Wendal's Hotel, inquired, where 
 lives the Rev. Thomas Ellison, the Episcopal clergy- 
 man ? "What, the English Dominie?" replied a 
 friendly voice. " You will go up State street — pass 
 the English stone church, which stands in the middle 
 of that street, and as you go up the hill, turn the 
 second corner to the right ; there lives the English 
 Dominie, the Rev. Mr. Ellison, in a newly-built 
 white house, the only one on the block or clay 
 bank." It was indeed just so ; and the writer 
 mounted the plank door-steps, and with a trembling 
 hand knocked at the door of the rector of St. Peter's, 
 Albany. "Is this the Rev. Mr. Ellison ?" said the 
 writer, as the top of a Dutch-built door was opened 
 by a portly gentleman in black, with prominent and 
 
 piercing eyes, and powdered hair. " My name is 
 Ellison," said he, " and I crave yours? " Giving his 
 name, the writer said, " I have come from New 
 Hampshire, the [dace of my nativity, and being very 
 desirous of becoming a candidate for holy orders 
 I will be much obliged for your advice." Mr. Elli- 
 son then said, " God bless you ! walk in." 
 
 He pursued his studies for the ministry with 
 Mr. Ellison, and on the tenth of May, 17U8, was 
 ordained deacon in St. George's Church, New 
 York. He was immediately appointed an itine- 
 rant preacher in the northern and western 
 portions of the State. At that time there were 
 but two clergymen of his faith above the High- 
 lands, Mr. Ellison at Albany, and Mr. Nash in 
 Otsego County. In his western tour, after orga- 
 nizing parishes in Utica and Auburn, he visited 
 " good Mr. Nash." The account of this visit is 
 one of the most characteristic passages of the 
 " Keminiscences." 
 
 FATIIF.R NASH. 
 
 The writer does not pretend to more sensibility 
 than falls to the lot of most men, but there was 
 something in this meeting between Mr. Nash and 
 himself of a peculiar character, and calculated to 
 call forth whatever of moral sensibility he possessed. 
 It was a meeting of two persons deeply convinced 
 of the primitive and apostolic foundation of the 
 Church to which, on account of its purity of doctrine, 
 and the divine right of its ministry, they had fled 
 from a chaos of confusion of other sects. They 
 were both " missionaries," though the name was not 
 understood or appreciated. The one had given up 
 all his hopes of more comfortable living in the well 
 stored country at the East, and had come to Otsego 
 County, to preach the Gospel, and build up the 
 Church on apostolic ground, with no assurance of a 
 salary but such as he could glean from the cold soil 
 of unrenewed nature, or pluck from the clusters of 
 the few scions which he might engraft into the vine, 
 Christ Jesus. He lived not in a tent, as the patri- 
 archs did, surrounded witli servants to tend his 
 flocks and to milk his kine, and "bring him butter 
 in a lordly dish ;" but in a cabin built of unhewn 
 logs, with scarcely a pane of glass to let in light 
 sufficient to read his Bible; and even this cabin was 
 not his own, nor was he permitted to live in one for 
 a long time together. All this was witnessed by the 
 other, who eame to see him, and helped him to carry 
 his little articles of crockery, holding one handle 
 of the basket and Mr. Nash the other, and as they 
 walked the road, " talked of the things pertaining 
 to the kingdom of God." 
 
 The writer cannot refrain from tears in bringing 
 to mind the circumstances attending this interesting 
 scene, that man, who was afterwards emphatically 
 called, " Father Nash," being the founder of the 
 Church in Otsego County — who baptized great num- 
 bers of both adults and children, and thus was the 
 spiritual father of so many of the family of Christ, 
 and who spent all his life and strength in toiling for 
 their spiritual benefit — was at this period so little 
 regarded by the Church at large, and even by his 
 neighbors, that he had not the means to move his 
 substance from one cabin to another but with his 
 own hands, assisted only by his wife and small 
 children, and a passing missionary. "Well does the 
 writer remember how the little one-roomel cabin 
 looked as he entered it ; its rude door, hung on 
 wooden hinges, creaking as they turned; how joy- 
 ful that good man was that lie hail been mindi'ul 
 to fetch a few nails, which he had used ia the other 
 
648 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 cabin, jnst left, for his comfort in this, now the re- 
 ceptacle of all his substance. These he drove into the 
 logs "with great judgment, choosing the place most 
 appropriate for his hat, his coat, and other garments 
 of himself and family. All this while his patient 
 wife, who, directing the children to kindle the fire, 
 prepared the food for — whom? Shall it be said a- 
 stranger? 2\'o; but for one who by sympathy felt 
 kimself more their brother than by all the ties 
 of nature, and who, by the example now set before 
 him, learned a lesson of inexpressible use to him all 
 the days of his subsequent life. 
 
 Mr. Chase soon after established himself in 
 Poughkeepsie, where he remained until 1805, 
 supporting himself' mainly by teaching. He then, 
 at the request of the Bishop of the Diocese, who 
 had received an application for a clergyman from 
 the Protestants of Slew Orleans, removed to that 
 city. He assisted in the organization of Christ 
 Church, became its rector, established a school, and 
 made missionary excursions in the surrounding 
 country. In 1811 he returned to the North, in 
 consequence of the necessity of providing for the 
 education of the children he had left there. His 
 next parochial charge was at Hartford, where he 
 spent, he informs us, the most peaceful period of 
 his life. In 1814 his father and mother died, 
 having attained the venerable ages of eighty-six 
 and eighty -one years. In 1S17 he left his com- 
 fortable and happy home, to devote himself to 
 the great work of missionary labor in Ohio. He 
 started on the second of March, and travelled in 
 a stage-sleigh to Batavia. From Buffalo, lie pro- 
 ceeded over the ice on the lake to Ohio, a journey, 
 owing to the lateness of the season, attended 
 with great peril. We again resort to the bishop's 
 narrative. 
 
 It was terrific to the feelings, if not in the eye of 
 reason, to hear the water pour over the runners of 
 the sleigh as we crossed this muddy stream, in a 
 dark r.ight, so far out from shore. The man (who 
 had brought them a stage on their journey) was 
 liberally rewarded for his extra trouble, and that 
 night we stayed at Mack's Tavern ; an elderly per-' 
 son, wiio ngreed that his hired man should take us 
 on the lake as far as the Four Corners — a place 
 where there were two log cabins — about twenty -five 
 miles short of Pennsylvania line. 
 
 The next morning was cold but clear — no wind, 
 and the day promised to be mild and pleasant. A 
 large, good, travelling horse was put before a one- 
 horse sleigh, called by the landlord his " cutter," 
 large enough to accommodate two and the driver. 
 It was sunrise ere we set off. 
 
 In getting out on to the lake, we had to pass be- 
 tween several mounds of ice, and sometimes to climb 
 over large cakes, which had been thrown tip together 
 by the force of the winds and waves. But the driver [ 
 knew his way, and the horse was rough-shod, and j 
 the cutter was strong and well built. The scene | 
 before us, as- we came out from among the mounds ; 
 of ice, was exceedingly brilliant, and even sublime. ; 
 Before us, up the lake, was a level expanse of glassy 
 ice, from two to three miles wide, between two 
 ranges of ice mountains, all stretching parallel with 
 the lake shore and with one another, as far as the j 
 eye could extend, till they were lost in the distance. 
 On this expanse, and on these mountains, and on the 
 icicles, which hung in vast quantities, and in an in- 
 finite variety of shapes from the rocky, lofty, and 
 sharp-angled shore on the left, the risirg sun was 
 pouring his beams. Light and 6hade were so 
 
 distinct, brilliancy and darkness were in such prox- 
 imity, and yet J/) blended, as to produce an effect of 
 admiration and praise to the great Creator, never 
 before experienced. It would be in vain to express 
 them here. 
 
 What added to the adoring gratitude to God, for 
 having made all things with such consummate skill 
 and splendor, was what appeared as we rode along 
 between these mountains of ice, manifesting God's 
 providential goodness, which went hand in hand 
 with His power and wisdom. The bald-headed 
 eagles sat on these mountains of ice, with eacli a fish 
 in his claw, fresh and clean, as if just taken from the 
 limpid lake. " What noble birds ! How delicious 
 the repast! Whence do they obtain these fish at 
 this inclement season ? " said the writer. " They get 
 them," said the driver, "from the top of the ice. 
 These were thrown up and deposited by the winds 
 and waves, in the storms of last winter, and being" 
 immediately frozen, have been kept till this spring, 
 when the sun thaws them out for the eagles and 
 ravens, who at this season have nothing else to feed 
 on." As the driver told this simple story of the fish, 
 and the storms, and the eagles, how clearly appeared 
 the providential goodness of God 1 " And will not 
 He who feedeth the eagles and the ravens, which he 
 hath made to depend on his goodness, feed, and sup- 
 port, and bless a poor, defenceless, solitary mission- 
 ary, who goeth foith, depending on his mercy, to 
 preach his holy word, and to build up his church in 
 the wilderness? " There was an answer of faith to 
 this question, more consoling than if the wealth of 
 the Indies had been laid at his feet. 
 
 It was a little before noon when our Cataraugus 
 driver stopped on the ice, opposite Four Corners. 
 Having received his pay and j ut the luggage on the 
 bank, he returned. "Thus far had the Lord helped." 
 What next would be our lot we knew not, Leav- 
 ing our trunks on the beach, where there was 
 nothing to molest them, we. walked up the ba: k 
 towards the cabins. As we went, the writer per- 
 ceived a pair of smooth, black horses, with their 
 harness on, eating beside the fence, ai.d a man, sittfi g 
 not far off. shaving shingles. " Who owns these 
 horses?" said the writer. "I do," said the man. 
 " Have you also a good sleigh?" "Yes." "Will 
 you put them before it immediately, and take two 
 persons up thelake as far as Pennsylvania line ? " At 
 this lie paused — said he hud just moved on from the 
 east, and wanted money, " bad enough," having, in 
 moving his family, expended every cent he had. 
 " But," said he, " it is a dangerous job you ask of me, 
 for the lake is open above, and the wind puts the 
 water in motion, and that causes the ice this way 
 to crack ; and they say it is dangerous to travel on ; 
 but if you reward me a little extra, I think I'll go." 
 
 The bargain was soon made; a few dough-nuts 
 bought of the woman in the cabin sufficed to allay 
 the hunger of the two travellers, and hearing the 
 man whistling for his dog, and cracking his whip to 
 his prancing horses, just ready to start, they both 
 ran to the lake and were soon adjusted in their 
 seats. The horses trotted with uncommon speed, 
 and had evenness as well as length of step. The 
 shore seemed to fly beside us, as since when on our 
 railroads, and soon were the Four Corners out of 
 sight. 
 
 The writer soon perceived the dangers to which 
 his present driver had alluded, and the sight caused 
 no ordinary feelings. The cracks in the ice became 
 more and more visible, and continued to increase in 
 width, as we drove rapidly along. Nothing, how- 
 ever, was said. The horses having trotted without 
 injurv over the small cracks, became soon accustomed 
 to leap over the wide ones ; but none were so wide 
 
PHILANDER CHASE. 
 
 649 
 
 as to let in the runners lengthwise, and we blessed 
 God silently, though heartily, for every successful 
 leap. 
 
 New spirits seemed to be given to our faithful 
 beasts the further they went — no whip was necessary. 
 The driver clung to his seat, and seemed to enjoy 
 their increased speed. A house was in sight, and 
 directly he pulle.l up to the smooth, pebbly shore. 
 " This is the place I promised to bring you to ; it is 
 Pennsylvania line. You are now on the lake shore 
 of that state." "I will go no further on the ice," 
 said the writer. " I am glad to hear you say so," 
 said Mr. Hibbard, " for my heart has been in my 
 moutli all the way." " Why did not you speak, if 
 you objected to this mode of travelling?" said the 
 writer. " Because," said he, " I was ashamed not to 
 possess as much courage as a minister." How little 
 did he know of the writer, who had no courage 
 aside from his trust in God. The driver received 
 his pav, called for his dog, and was off. Once more 
 we were oa the lonely beach. 
 
 He read prayers and preached for the first time 
 in Ohio, on the 16th of March, 1817, made a 
 tour through the State, was joined by his wife 
 and family, and settled down on a tract of land 
 of one hundred and fifty acres at Worthington, 
 taking charge at the same time of churches in 
 that place, Columbus, and Delaware. In January, 
 1818, a Convention was held at Columbus, at 
 which the Diocese of Ohio was organized, and at 
 a subsequent Convention in June, Mr. Chase was 
 elected bishop. He had, on the fifth of May 
 previous, had the misfortune to lose his wife. On 
 the eleventh of February, 1819, he was con- 
 secrated by Bishop White. He was married on 
 Sunday, July -A of the same year, to Miss Sophia 
 M. [ngraham. 
 
 In 1823 the bishop formed the resolution of 
 visiting England, to solicit funds for the establish- 
 ment of a school of theology in the West. The 
 scheme was regarded as chimerical by his brother 
 bishops, and met with opposition from the friends 
 of the General Theological Seminary in New 
 York. The bishop persevered, and with the 
 small provision of $i00 to meet his expenses, 
 sailed for Liverpool, His first experiences were 
 disheartening, but he persevered, and found in 
 Lord Gamhier, to whom he carried a letter from 
 Henry Clay, and Lord Kenyan, liberal and influ- 
 ential friends. The bishop made a donation of 
 his farm to the proposed seminary, and agreed 
 that no funds contributed should be drawn, until 
 English donors were satisfied by the voucher of 
 Henry Clay, or in case of his death the Governor 
 of tiie State, that the conditions of the gift had 
 been complied with. He returned after a few 
 months' absence with about $30,000. The semi- 
 nary was commenced by the reception of students 
 in the bishop's own house at Worthington. lie 
 appointed his teachers and paid them from his 
 own funds, and such as he collected from the 
 students themselves. His wife was his secretary, 
 his housekeeper, his adviser, and treasurer in all 
 this. Such a commencement of a great institu- 
 tion of religion and learning, on so economical a 
 plan, was never elsewhere witnessed. The next 
 step was the purchase of eight thousand acres as 
 a domain. The bishop rightly estimating the im- 
 portance of his own personal supervision, built a 
 cabin on the hill on which the college was to 
 stand. 
 
 The whole surface of the hill was then a ■windfall, 
 being a gre.iter part of it covered with fallen and 
 up-turned trees, between and over which had come 
 up a second growth of thick trees and bushes. 
 It was on such a place as this (proverbially imper- 
 vious even to the hunters after wolves, which made 
 it their covert), that the writer pitched his tent, if 
 such it may be called. On the south end or pro- 
 montory of this hill (near to which, below, ran the 
 road used by the first settlers), grew some tall oak 
 trees, which evidently had escaped the hurricanes 
 in days of yore. Under the shelter of these, some 
 boards in a light wagon were taken nearly to the top 
 of the hill; there they were dropped, and it was 
 with these the writer's house was built, after the 
 brush was with great difficulty cleared away. Two 
 erotched sticks were driven into the ground, and on 
 them a transverse pole was placed, and on this pole 
 were placed the boards, inclining to the ground each 
 way. The ends, or gables, to this room or roof- 
 shelter, were but slightly closed by some clap 
 boards rived on the spot from a fallen oak tree. The 
 be Is to sleep on were thrown on bundles of straw, 
 kept up from the damp ground by a kind of tem- 
 porary platform, resting on stakes driven deeply into 
 the eai'th. This was the first habitation on Gambler 
 Hill, and it stood very nearly on the site where now 
 rises the noble edifice of Kenyou College. 
 
 On his visit to the east, to attend the meeting 
 of the General Convention, the bishop made a 
 tour, during which he collected a large sum in aid 
 of his project. A portion of the buildings was 
 commenced on his return, and in good season 
 completed. Scarcely, however, had the institu- 
 tion gone into operation, when a difficulty arose 
 between the bishop and the professors, as to the 
 limits of the power of the former as ex-offieio 
 president. The matter was brought into the Con- 
 vention of the diocese in 1831, and a report 
 made, virtually endorsing the professors. The 
 bishop said nothing, and the report was unani- 
 mously adopted. He retired from the Conven. 
 tion, and tendered his resignation, which was ac- 
 cepted. He soon after removed to Michigan with 
 his family, where he occupied himself with his 
 wonted energy in missionary duty as a presbyter, 
 until he received in 1835 an invitation from the 
 small handful of clergy and laity which com- 
 posed the diocese, to become the first Bishop of 
 Illinois. He accepted the appointment, and soon 
 after, undaunted by the hard requital his former 
 labors had received, began his exertions for the 
 foundation of a Theological Seminary and College. 
 He sailed for England in October, to appeal again 
 to his old friends for aid, and the appeal was 
 liberally responded to. Further donations in the 
 Eastern States enabled him to buy land, and 
 commence building. The corner-stone of the new 
 institution. Jubilee College, was laid on the fourth 
 of April, 1S39, on a large and beautiful tract of ' 
 land, secured by the bishop's wise forethought, 
 j as a domain and future source of revenue. He 
 next passed a year in travelling through the 
 States, north and south, soliciting funds to es- 
 tablish scholarships, and was tolerably successful 
 in his efforts. His Eemiui>cences were written 
 and published with a view to advance the same 
 cause. Jubilee College was built and opened, and 
 the good and venerable prelate, by virtue of 
 seniority the presiding bishop of his church, was 
 enabled to enjoy for some years the spectacle of 
 
650 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 its harmony and usefulness. His cottage home, 
 Kobin's Nest, was not far off, and it was here 
 that ou the twentieth day of September, 1852, he 
 closed his long life of labor and usefulness, a 
 career unequalled in its results by that of any 
 clergyman in the United States. 
 
 Bishop Chase's Beinihiscences fill two large 
 octavo volumes, a large portion of which, how- 
 ever, is occupied hy letters addressed to him, 
 and documents connected with the Ohio contro- 
 versy, and other events of his life. The work 
 abounds in passages of great beaut}', the charac- 
 ter of which may be judged from the extracts 
 interspersed in our narrative. They remind us 
 of the heartfelt simplicity of Izaak Walton. The 
 same noble trait was a 'characteristic of the dis- 
 courses and conversation of the man. But while 
 harmless as the dove, he was also wise as the 
 serpent. His cpndnct in relation to the endow- 
 ment of his colleges shows that he was a shrewd 
 and able man, " not slothful in business." With 
 his personal humility, he properly combined a 
 high sense of the dignity of his office. 
 
 Bishop Chase's countenance expressed singular 
 determination, combined with benevolence. He 
 was tall and well proportioned ; and arrayed in 
 the flowing vestments of his office, witli the dark 
 velvet cap, which he wore continually after a 
 severe illness brought on by exposure, and which 
 he describes with his wonted quaintness, as "a 
 thick covering to his head, in the shape of a 
 night-cap," his form seemed to fill up as amply to 
 the eye, as his career and words to the mind, the 
 full ideal of a bishop. 
 
 JOHN J. AUDUBON. 
 
 Jons' James Audubon was born in Louisiana in 
 1776. His acquaintance with Nature seems to 
 have been early formed under the guidance of his 
 father, who accompanied him in his boyish ram- 
 bles. He was sent to complete his education in 
 France, where he remained until his seventeenth 
 year. He received in Paris the instructions in 
 drawing of the celebrated painter David. On his 
 return his father presented him with a farm in 
 Pennsylvania, " refreshed during the summer heats 
 by the waters of the Schuylkill river, and tra- 
 versed by a creek named Perkioming." Here he 
 married. 
 
 " For a period of nearly twenty years," he says 
 in the biographical preface to his great work, " my 
 life was a series of vicissitudes. I tried various 
 branches of commerce, but they all proved un- 
 profitable, doubtless because my whole mind was 
 ever filled with my passion for rambling and ad- 
 miring those objects of nature from which alone 
 I received the purest gratification." One of these 
 commercial speculations led him to try his for- 
 tune at the West. He removed with his wife 
 and child, descending the Ohio in a small boat 
 with two rowers to the town of Henderson, near 
 Louisville, Ky., and opened a store at the latter 
 place. Here he was visited by Wilson, and was 
 about subscribing for the naturalist's work when 
 he was dissuaded by his partner, who remarked 
 to him that as he could make much better draw- 
 ings of his own ho would not want the plates. 
 This seems to have given him the first hint of his 
 future publications. He does not appear, how- 
 ever, to have formed any settled plan on the sub- 
 
 ject until, on a visit to Philadelphia, he met with 
 Charles Lucien Bonaparte, who introduced him 
 to the Natural History Society and the leading 
 men of the place. "But the patronage which I 
 so much needed, I soon found myself compelled 
 to seek elsewhere. I left Philadelphia, and visit- 
 ed New York, where 1 was received with a kind- 
 ness well suited to elevate my depressed spirits." 
 Ascending the Hudson he " glided over our broad 
 lakes to seek the wildest solitudes of the pathless 
 and gloomy forests." Eighteen months elapsed, 
 and he returned to his family then residing in 
 Louisiana, and sailed from thence for England, 
 his endeavors to have his plates engraved in Phi- 
 ladelphia or New York having proved unavailing. 
 He was well received in the cities of England and 
 Scotland, exhibited his drawings, and obtained 
 subscriptions; The drawings for his first number 
 were, however, delivered to the engraver and 
 the work commenced before he had a single sub- 
 scriber. His work, The Birds of America* was 
 published in numbers, each containing five colored 
 plates of large folio size. The first of these ap- 
 peared in 1825, and the first volume in 1829. 
 
 t .dA c^TCM^tT^r^ 
 
 In April, 1829, he returned to America, " leaped 
 on shore, scoured the woods of the Middle States, 
 and reached Louisiana in the end of November." 
 He returned with his wife to London in the fol- 
 lowing spring. In 1831 he presented himself at 
 Washington to obtain letters of introduction to 
 the commanders of the frontier posts he purposed 
 visiting. " All," he says, " received me in the 
 kindest manner." He proceeded southwards,. ex- 
 ploring the woods of the Carolinas, and cruising 
 among the keys of Florida in the revenue cutter 
 " Marion." He then, following the birds in their 
 migrations, proceeded northwards to the Atlantic 
 cities and the coast of Maine, where he chartered 
 a " beautiful and last-sailing schooner," and prc- 
 
 * Tho Birds of America, from Drawings made in the United 
 States and tbeir Territories. 
 
JOHN J. AUDUBON. 
 
 651 
 
 ceeded in her to Labrador. He returned to the 
 South in the following winter, and to England in 
 1834, "with an accession of sixty-two subscrib- 
 ers, and the collections made during nearly three 
 years of travel and research." His second volume 
 was published in 1834, and the third in 1835. 
 The fourth and last was completed June 20, 1838. 
 The whole work contains four hundred and thirty- 
 five plates, containing one thousand and sixty-live 
 distinct specimens, all, from the eagle to the hum- 
 ming-bird, of the size of life. The engravings 
 were executed and colored by Robert Havell, jr., 
 of London. The original subscription price was 
 one thousand dollars, and the number 6f subscrib- 
 ers one hundred and seventy-five, about half of 
 whom came from England and France. In 1839 
 Audubon returned to the United States, and pur- 
 chased a beautiful country-seat on the Hudson, 
 near the upper end of New York Island. He 
 commenced a smaller edition of his " Birds," in 
 seven octavo volumes, with the plates reduced to 
 a similar size, which was completed in 1814. 
 Meanwhile the author, with his sons Victor G. 
 and John W. Audubon, was busy in the forests 
 and prairies of the West in collecting the material 
 for another great work. ■ In the preface to the 
 second volume of his Birds, dated Dec. 1, 1834, 
 he says of his sons : — " Of their natural or ac- 
 quired talents it does not become me to speak, 
 but should you some day see the 'Quadrupeds of 
 America' published by their united efforts, do 
 not forget that a pupil of David first gave them 
 lessons in drawing, and that a member of the 
 Bakewell family formed their youthful minds." 
 
 The first volume of the Quadrupeds of America 
 appeared in 1848. It is similar in size to the 
 " Birds." The illustrations were lithographed, and 
 colored under the author's supervision, by Bowen 
 of Philadelphia. The Audubons were assisted in 
 the work by the Rev. John Bachman. 
 
 Audubon's time, when not absent on his jour- 
 neys, which he continued in his old age with the 
 determination and eagerness of youth, was pas-ied 
 at his rural home, one of the most beautiful coun- 
 try-seats on New York Island. The interior was 
 fitted up in accordance with his tastes and pur- 
 suits, with antlers of noble size, specimens and 
 drawings of birds and animals. 
 
 It was in this pleasant abode, surrounded by 
 his wife and family, that the great naturalist, 
 after a brief period of gradual decay, himself paid 
 the debt of nature on the 27th of January, 1851. 
 " We have heard," says a writer in the " Homes 
 of American Authors," "that the last gleam of 
 light stole across his features a few days before 
 his death, when one of his sons held before him, 
 as he sat in his chair, some of his most cherished 
 drawings." 
 
 He was buried in the Trinity cemetery, a short 
 distance from his abode. 
 
 In person Audubon was tall and commanding, 
 and his countenance, from the sharp glance of his 
 eye and the outline of his features, suggested a 
 resemblance to the eagle. 
 
 COMMON HOCK1NG-JJIHD. 
 
 It is where the great magnolia shoots up its mn- 
 jestic trunk, crowned with evergreen leaves, and 
 decorated with a thousand beautiful flowers, that 
 perfume the air around ; where the forests and fields 
 
 are adorned with blossoms of every hue ; where the 
 golden orange ornaments the gardens and groves; 
 where biguonias of various kinds interlace their 
 climbing stems around the white-flowered stuartia, 
 and mounting still higher, cover the summits of the 
 lofty trees around, accompanied with innumerable 
 vines, that here and there festoon the dense foliage 
 of the magnificent woods, lending to the vernal 
 breeze a slight portion of the perfume of their clus- 
 tered flowers ; where a genial warmth seldom for- 
 sakes the atmosphere ; where berries and fruits of 
 all descriptions are met with at every step; — in a 
 word, kind reader, it is where Nature seems to havo 
 paused, as she passed over the earth, and opening 
 her stores, to have strewed with unsparing hand the 
 diversified seeds from which have sprung all the 
 beautiful and splendid forms which I should in vain 
 attempt to describe, that the mocking-bird should 
 have fixed its abode, there only that its wondrous 
 song should be heard. 
 
 But where is that favored land ? — It is in this great 
 continent. — It is, reader, in Louisiana that these 
 bounties of nature are in the greatest perfection. It 
 is there tlint you should listen to the love-song of 
 the mocking-bird, as I -it this moment do. See how 
 he flies round his mate, with motions as light a3 
 those of the butterfly ! His tail is widely expanded, 
 he mounts in the air to a small distance, describes a 
 circle, and, again alighting, approaches his beloved 
 one, his eyes gleaming with delight, for she has al- 
 ready promised to be his and his only. His beauti- 
 ful wings are gently raised, he bows to his love, and 
 again bouncing upwards, opens his bill, and pours 
 forth his melody, full of exultation at the conquest 
 which he has made. 
 
 They are not the soft sounds of the flute or of the 
 hautboy that I hear, but the sweeter notes of Na- 
 ture's own music. The mellowness of the song, the 
 varied modulations and gradations, the extent of its 
 compass, the gi'eat brilliancy of execution, are unri- 
 valled. There is probably no bird in the world that 
 possesses all the musical qualifications of this king 
 of song, who has derived all from Nature's self. Yes, 
 reader, all! 
 
 No sooner has he again alighted, and the conjugal 
 contract has been sealed, than, as if his breast was 
 about to be rent with delight, he again pours forth 
 his notes with more softness and richness than be- 
 fore. He now soars higher, glancing around with a 
 vigilant eye, to assure himself that none has wit- 
 nessed his bliss. When these love scenes, visible 
 only to the ardent lover of nature, are over, he dan- 
 ces through the air, full of animation and delight, 
 and, as if to convince his lovely mate that to enrich 
 her hopes he has much more love in store, he that 
 moment begins anew, and imitates all the notes 
 which nature has imparted to the other songsters of 
 the grove. 
 
 For awhile, each long day and pleasant night are 
 thus spent; but at a peculiar note of the female ho 
 ceases his song, and attends to her wishes. A nest 
 is to be prepared, and the choice of a place in which 
 to lay it is to become a matter of mutual considera- 
 tion. The orange, the fig, the pear-tree of the gar- 
 dens are inspected ; the thick briar patches are also 
 visited. They appear all so well suited for the pur- 
 pose in view, and so well does the bird know that 
 man is not his most dangerous enemy, that instead 
 of retiring from him, they at length fix their abode 
 in his vicinity, perhaps in the nearest tree to his 
 window. Dried twigs, leaves, grasses, cotton, flax, 
 and other substances are picked up, carried to a 
 forked branch, and there arranged. Five eggs are 
 deposited in due time, when the male having little 
 more to do than to sing his mate to repose, attunes 
 
652 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 his pipe anew. Every now and then he spies an 
 insect on the ground, the taste of which he is sure 
 will please his beloved one. He drops upon it, takes 
 it in his bill, beats it against the earth, and flies to 
 the nest to feed and receive the warm thanks of his 
 devoted female. 
 
 When a fortnight has elapsed, the young brood 
 demand all their care and attention. No cat, no 
 vile snake, no dreaded Hawk, is likely to visit their 
 habitation. Indeed the inmates of the next house 
 have by this time become quite attached to the 
 lovely pair of mocking-birds, and t:ike pleasure in 
 contributing to their safety. The dew-berries from 
 the fields, and many kinds of fruit from the gardens, 
 mixed with insects, supply the young as well as the 
 parents with food. The brood is soon zzen emerg- 
 ing from the nest, and in another fortnight, being 
 now able to fly with vigor, and to provide for them- 
 selves, they leave the parent birds, as many other 
 species do. 
 
 JOHN ELAIE LIOTT. 
 
 Jons Blair Lixm was born at Shippensburg, 
 Pennsylvania, March 14, 1777. "While he was 
 yet a child his father removed to New York, and 
 after passing two or three years at a boarding- 
 school at Flushing, he entered Columbia College 
 at the early age of' thirteen. After taking his de- 
 gree he became a law student in the office of his 
 father's friend, Alexander Hamilton. During the 
 year that he passed in reading law, he brought 
 out a dramatic piece at the John Street Theatre, 
 entitled Bourville Castle ; or, the Gallic Orphan. 
 It is described in the advertisements of the day 
 as a "serious drama, interspersed with songs," and 
 a critique from "an unknown correspondent," in 
 the Minerva newspaper of Jan. 18, 1707, pro- 
 bably his friend Brown the novelist, who, Dunlap 
 tells U", revised the manuscript, gives the only 
 notice it appears to have received :■ — 
 
 It is the tale of injured innocence and murdered 
 greatness, and is told with great beauty, affecting 
 simplicity, nay, often with uncommon pathos. Upon 
 the whole, though it would be " outstepping the 
 modesty of nature" to call Bourville Castle a pro- 
 duction equal to Shakespeare's, yet it is but the just 
 tribute of merit to say that, considering the author's 
 years, it is a masterly dramatic composition ; and 
 contains every requisite, both as to sentiment as 
 well as to music and scenery, to excite the feeling 
 approbation of an audience. 
 
 It was produced on Monday, Jan. 16, and was 
 played three times. The public did not second 
 the anonymous critic. A law student, who 
 brought out a play in the first year after opening 
 his books, was not likely to turn out a lawyer 
 even with so distinguished a master as Hamilton. 
 He took no interest in the profession, and would 
 probably have abandoned it, even if the change 
 which now took place in his views had not oc- 
 curred. He had always led a correct life, hut his 
 mind at this time suddenly being more deeply 
 impressed by religious views, he resolved to be- 
 come a clergyman. In pursuance of this deter- 
 mination, he removed from New York to the 
 quiet study of the Rev. Dr. Romeyn of Schenec- 
 tady, and was in due course ordained a Presby- 
 terian clergyman in the year 1798. He accepted 
 a call to become the assistant of the Rev. Dr. 
 Ewing, minister of the First Presbyterian Church, 
 
 Philadelphia, and resided in that city during the 
 remainder of his life. At the. time of his removal 
 to Philadelphia he married Miss Hester Bailey, 
 daughter of Colonel John Bailey, of Poughkeep- 
 sie, New Y'ork. This lady and two sons survived 
 him. 
 
 In the year 1800 he published an Ossianic 
 poem on the topic that then occupied every 
 tongue and every pen, The Death of Washington. 
 The year after his principal poetical production, 
 a poem, entitled The Powers of Genius, appeared. 
 It is in three parts, of some two hundred lines 
 each. The writer points out the distinctions be- 
 tween taste; fancy, and genius, and dwells upon 
 the topic in which his theme delights, upon its 
 powers, and the poets who have given indica- 
 tions of its possession, without himself essaying 
 any definite description of its qualities. The poem 
 is smoothly written, but unfortunately exhibits 
 slight indications of the " powers" it celebrates. 
 It is well garnished with scholar-like and sensible 
 notes, which show a good critical appreciation of 
 the English poets, and of poetical themes. It was 
 well received, soon reached a second edition, and 
 was reprinted in England. 
 
 His next publication was occasioned by the ap- 
 pearance of Dr. Priestley's comparison of Socrates 
 and our Saviour. His religious feeling was shocked 
 by the irreverence of the juxtaposition, and for- 
 tified by a sense of duty, he, a young man almost 
 unknown, boldly ventured to challenge one who 
 had long before established a reputation of no ordi- 
 nary character and extent. 
 
 The controversy was of brief duration, closing 
 with a second reply by Dr. Priestley to a second 
 publication by his young opponent. The two 
 pamphlets of the latter extend to sixty-six and a 
 hundred and forty-four pages. They are written 
 with great ability, and contain a close analysis of 
 the character of Socrates. "We select a few pas- 
 sages : — 
 
 I have often been surprised at the praises given 
 to the Soeratic mode of conversation. It is somewhat 
 deserving of praise, when employed by a professed 
 tutor to his pupil, for in that case the parties meet, 
 one with a full conviction of his ignorance, and the 
 other with the express purpose of supplying him 
 with knowledge. But in the intercourse of equals, 
 no method can be imagined more unsuitable. There 
 is no mode more likely to excite resentment; to 
 awaken passions that are sure to bar up the avenues 
 of conviction. To have our error detected and 
 proved, to extort from us the confession of our mis- 
 take, is always grating to our pride, and the arts of 
 a master in discourse are chiefly shown in preventing 
 and soothing this passion. 
 
 In the dialogues of Socrates, as reported by his 
 followers, we can expect to find nothing that will 
 mar the even course of their master's logic. The 
 person that is talked to is a mere machine, appointed 
 to consent to every demand that is made, and to 
 abjure, with the most edifying docility, every doubt 
 which the reporter of the dialogue can invent for 
 him. 
 
 The men on whom Socrates employed his logic 
 were either stupid or ingenious. The former are 
 commonly vain and conceited, and would not fail to 
 be exasperated by the treatment of Socrates, a treat- 
 ment which had no purpose in view but to mortify 
 their vanity. The latter would ill deserve the title 
 
JOHN BLAIR LINK 
 
 653 
 
 of ingenious, if they could not escape from the con- 
 clusions to which they were pressed, by new dis- 
 tinctions, qualifications, or evasions. The tenets of 
 Socrates were not such as soared above all cavil, or 
 that could not be seemingly disproved by an artful 
 and eloquent man, adopting the same mode of argu- 
 ment. The man of true wisdom will seldom excite 
 enmity either by his words or actions. He proposes 
 no other end by his instructions than to benefit 
 mankind, and the wicked themselves will come in 
 for a large share of his compassion and beneficence. 
 In his endeavors to reclaim them, he will pave a 
 way to their heads through their hearts. He will 
 win their love before he gains their conviction; and 
 even when he fails to make them converts to his 
 cause, he will secure their alfectiou and esteem. 
 
 The ability displayed in these publications, com- 
 bined with the author's previous claims to regard, 
 obtained for him from the university of his native 
 state the degree of D.D. at an age earlier than it 
 had ever there previously been conferred. 
 
 In the same year, 1802, he was called upon to 
 preach the funeral sermon of his venerable asso- 
 ciate, Dr. Ewing. The discourse was printed. Its 
 concluding sentences will show the character of 
 his compositions for the pulpit. 
 
 How swift is the flight of years ! How rapid the 
 race of men through the world ! The torch of 
 earthly glory blazes and scorches for a moment, and 
 then is extinguished for ever. The iron scythe of 
 time is ever in motion, and men are the grass which 
 falls beneath its sweep. The sun pours his tempo- 
 rary effulgence around us, but the period will arrive 
 when his beams shall be quenched, when destruction 
 shall descend upon the earth, and night— starless 
 night — shall encircle destruction. Who, then, will 
 live for time, who will live for eternity? Great 
 God ! With heavenly solemnity impress our hearts, 
 enable us to rise above the world in our affections, 
 and to look beyond its grave ; enable us to live as 
 becomes sojourners on this earth, as becomes thy 
 faithful servants and the heirs of immortality ! 
 
 An inconsiderate exposure to a hot summer's 
 sun in an open waggon, had, previously to these 
 events, caused a fainting fit, followed by a fever. 
 From this attack he never entirely recovered. A 
 tendency to mental depression, to which he had 
 always been subject, aided the advance of con- 
 sumption, and he died of that disease on the 
 thirtieth of August, 1804. Soon after this event 
 his poem of Valerian was published, accompanied 
 by an admirable biographical memoir by his 
 brother-in-law and warm friend, Charles Brock- 
 den Brown, it is a narrative poem, and, though 
 only a part of a contemplated design, extends to 
 some fifteen hundred lines in blank verse. 
 
 The scene is laid in Montalvia, a fanciful king- 
 dom placed by the writer on the shores of the 
 Caspian. Alcestes, an old man "revered within 
 Montalvia," chancing to pass by the sea-shore 
 during a tempest, finds a youth cast ashore by the 
 waves. He has him conveyed to his cottage, and 
 there, by his own and his fair daughter Azora's 
 care, the stranger is restored to consciousness, 
 and naturally inquires where he is, which enables 
 Alcestes to satisfy the reader's as well as the 
 guest's curiosity touching Montalvia. The reply 
 gives a fanciful description of a pastoral commu- 
 nity, with an Olympus of contending deities, good 
 and bad, to each class of which sacrifices are 
 
 offered. The people are ruled by a king, Orian- 
 der, and live peacefully in cities and fair meadows. 
 A chain of mountains, " skirting the north," is 
 the stronghold of Astahan and his band, who 
 waylay and plunder unwary travellers and hunt- 
 ers. In the same region a ruined temple is 
 situated, in which dwells 
 
 a hoary wight, deep versed in arts 
 Of direful magic. 
 
 This description, a curious compound of the clas- 
 sic poets and of Spenser, closes the first book. 
 In the second, the young stranger, a Christian, 
 gives his host an outline of the history of our 
 Saviour and his Apostles, and of the persecution 
 of the Christians under Nero ; during which the 
 narrator, refusing to abjure his religion, was ex- 
 posed to the attacks of a lion on the Roman 
 stage, but, " clad in light armor," was enabled to 
 slay the wild beast, and shortly after, by his 
 father's aid, to bribe his jailors and escape. 
 
 In the third and last book, Valerian domesti- 
 cates himself in Montalvia, converts the king and 
 people to Christianity, defeats a conspiracy formed 
 against him, exposes the " ventriloquial powers" 
 (a hint from Brown's Wielaud) of the magician 
 in his ruined temple, and overhearing, on a clear 
 night, the fair Azora singing a song in his praise, 
 responds in a strain, different in metre, but of a 
 similarly complimentary character. This, of 
 course, settles the love affair, and a wedding ends 
 the poem. 
 
 The story is narrated in a smooth and flowing 
 style, and many passages descriptive of the suffer- 
 ings of the early Christians are animated and 
 pathetic. 
 
 FROM THE POWERS OF GF.NITTB. 
 
 What vast delights flow on that glowing breast, 
 
 By virtue-strengtheri'd and by Genius blest 1 
 
 Whate'er in Nature beautiful or grand, 
 
 In air, or ocean, or the teeming land, 
 
 Meets its full view, excites a joy unknown. 
 
 To those whom Genius dashes from her throne. 
 
 Genius finds speech in trees ; the running brook 
 
 To her speaks language, like a favourite book; 
 
 She dresses Nature in her brightest form, 
 
 She hears with rapture the descending storm, 
 
 She lists the chiming of the falling stream, 
 
 Which lulls to sleep and wakes the airy dream ; 
 
 En wrapt with solitude she loves to tread 
 
 O'er rugged hills, or where the green woods spread ; 
 
 To hear the songsters of the lonely grove 
 
 Breathe their SAveet strains of gladness and of love: 
 
 She lnves to wander when the moon's soft ray 
 
 Treads on the footsteps of departing day, 
 
 When heavy sadness hangs upon the gale, 
 
 And twilight deepens o'er the dusky vale, — ■ 
 
 By haunted waters, or some ruln'd tower, 
 
 Which stands the shock of Time's destroying power, 
 
 Wiiere the dim owl directs his dusky flight, 
 
 And pours his sorrows on the ear of Night. 
 
 The song of bards and Wisdom's ancient page, 
 
 Which brave the blasts of each succeeding age ; 
 
 With fond delight she studies and admires, 
 
 And glows and kindles at their sacred fires. 
 
 She treads on air, she rises on the wind, 
 
 Ami with them leaves the lagging world behind. 
 
 When solitude o'erhangs the lardy hour, 
 
 She finds within herself a social power. 
 
 On life's sad journey she is doom'd to bear 
 
 The sweetest pleasure and the keenest care. 
 
654 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 If she be subject to severer woe, 
 
 Than cold phlegmatic Simla can ever know ; 
 
 She knows those joys which soar above their sight, 
 
 As rolls the planet in the worlds of light. 
 
 IIENEY CLAY. 
 Hent.y Clay, the seventh child of the Rev. John 
 Clay, was born at the Slashes (a local term for a 
 low, swampy country), Hanover County, Vir- 
 ginia, April 12, 1777. His father died in 1781, 
 and his mother afterwards married Captain Henry 
 Watkins. He proved a kind stepfather, as it was 
 owing to his exertions that Henry, after acquir- 
 ing the rudiments of English education at the log 
 school-house of Peter Deacon, earning the memo- 
 rable title of " Mill Boy of the Slashes" by his 
 errands to the mill for his mother, was promoted 
 from the position of a country shopboy to that 
 of a copyist in the office of the Clerk of the Vir- 
 ginia Court of Chancery. He studied law, and 
 was admitted to the bar in 1797. He removed to 
 Lexington, Ky., where he practised his profession 
 with givat success. In 1803 he was elected to 
 the Legislature of his State, and in 1806 ap- 
 pointed to fill the short remainder of the term of 
 General Adair, who had resigned, in the national 
 Senate. In 1809 he was again appointed in a 
 similar manner to the same office. In 1811 he 
 was chosen a member of the House of Represen- 
 tatives, and was elected Speaker the same day 
 that he took his scat as a member of that body. 
 He retained this office until his appointment in 
 January, 1814, as one of the commissioners to 
 negotiate the Treaty of Ghent. On his return, 
 he was re-elected to Congress. In 1820 he re- 
 tired to resume professional practice, in order to 
 repair the losses which his private fortune had 
 sustained by his long and exclusive devotion to 
 the public .service. In 1823 he returned to the 
 House, and was again elected Speaker._ 
 
 MCAj 
 
 He was a candidate for the Presidency in the 
 contest which resulted in the election by the 
 House of Representatives of Mr. Adams, by whom 
 he was appointed Secretary of State, an office 
 he retained until the inauguration of General 
 Jackson in 1829. He then retired from public 
 life for two years, and in 1831 was elected to the 
 Senate. In the election of 1832 he was a candi- 
 date for the Presidency, but defeated by President 
 Jack-on. He was also a candidate for the "Whig 
 nomination obtained by General Harrison in 1839. 
 In 1842 he resigned his seat in the Senate, taking 
 his farewell of that body in a speech which 
 ranks among his finest oratorical efforts. 
 
 In 1844 Henry Clay was again nominated to 
 the presidency, and after a most warmly contested 
 election defeated by James K. Polk. In 1849 he 
 returned to the Senate, where he took an active 
 part in favor of the " compromise measures" of 
 1850. This was his last public effort. A visit to 
 New Orleans and Havana in the following win- 
 ter, for the benefit of his failing health, was un- 
 productive of good results, and finding himself 
 after the opening of the session in 1851 unable to 
 
 fulfil his duties, he announced his resignation, to 
 j take effect September 20, 1852. He gradually 
 ' sank under the influence of wasting disease, and 
 died at Washington, June 29, 1852. 
 
 Clay was in favor of the war in 1812, advo- 
 I cated the construction of the National Road and 
 other " Internal Improvements," and was in 
 favor of the recognition of the South American 
 Republics, atid of the independence of Greece. 
 Some of his noblest oratorical efforts were de- 
 livered in support of these measures. He was an 
 advocate throughout -his political career of "pro- 
 tection to American industry" by means of a 
 high tariff. For the sake of the peace of the 
 Union, he was content in the nullification troubles 
 to waive this policy, and a similar sacrifice of 
 private preference to public good characterized 
 his career; His speeches are sincere and im- 
 passioned, qualities which distinguished the man, 
 and which were among the chief causes of the 
 great personal popularity which he enjoyed.* 
 Full, flowing, sensuous, his style of oratory was 
 modulated by a voice of sustained power and 
 sweetness, and a heart of chivalrous courtesy. 
 Of the great triumvirate of the Senate, Calhoun, 
 Webster, and Clay, respectively representing the 
 South, the East, and the West, the last was the 
 great master of feeling. His frank hearing, his 
 self-developed vigor, his spontaneous eloquence 
 and command of language, were western charac- 
 teristics, and reached the heart of the whole 
 country. While Calhoun engaged the attention 
 of philo-ophers in his study, and Webster had the 
 ear of lawyers and the mercantile classes, Clay 
 was out in the open air with the people, exciting 
 at will their sympathies, while the warmest acts 
 of friendship poured in upon him unsought. In 
 the language of Wirt, it was a popularity which 
 followed, not which was run after. There was 
 at once something feminine and manly in his 
 composition. He united the gentlest affections 
 of woman with the pride of the haughtiest man- 
 hood. When his last moments came, he died as 
 he had lived, with simplicity and dignity. 
 
 Mr. Clay's speeches were collected, and with 
 his life " compiled and edited by Daniel Mallory," 
 published in 1843, in two volumes 8vo. His 
 " Life and Times" by Calvin Colton, also in two 
 volumes 8vo., appeared in 1845. 
 Mr. Clay left a widow and three sons. 
 
 FHOM THE SPEECH ON TJIE GREEK REVOLUTION, JAN. 20, 1S24. 
 
 Cut, sir, it is not for Greece alone that I desire to 
 see this measure adopted. It will give to her but 
 
 * The unaffected kindness and simplicity of Clay's manner 
 are happily indicated in the following note, which we fird 
 credited to a Kichmond newspaper. It was addressed to tho 
 children of a gentleman of that city: — 
 
 Washington, February IS. 1S89. 
 
 My dear Children : Having made the acquaintance of your 
 father, and received from him many acts of kindness, I tako 
 great pleasure, in compliance with his wishes, in addressing 
 these lines to you. 
 
 During a long life. I havo observed that those are most 
 happy who love, honor, and obey their parents; who avoid 
 idleness and dissipation, and employ their time in constant 
 labor, both of body and mind ; and who perform with regular 
 and scrupulous attention, all their duties to our Maker, and his 
 only Sou, our blessed Saviour. 
 
 May you live long, and prove a blessing to your father and 
 mother, ornaments to society, and acceptable to God. Such ii 
 the hope of your father's friend, nnd although unknown to 
 you, your friend, H. Clay. 
 
HENRY CLAY. 
 
 655 
 
 little support, and that purely of a moral kind. It 
 is principally for America, for the credit and cha- 
 racter of our common country, for our own unsullied 
 name, that I hope to see it pass. Mr. Chairman, 
 what appearance on the page of history would a 
 record like this exhibit ? "In the mouth of January, 
 in the year of our Lord and Saviour, lS'J-f, while all 
 European Christendom beheld, with cold and unfeel- 
 ing indifference, the unexampled wrongs and inex- 
 pressible misery of Christian Greece, a proposition 
 was made in the Congress of the United States, 
 almost the sole, the last, the greatest depository of 
 human hope and human freedom, the representatives 
 of a gallant nation, containing a million of freemen 
 ready to fly to arms, while the people of that nation 
 were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling, 
 and the whole continent, by one simultaneous emo- 
 tion, was rising, and solemnly and anxiously suppli- 
 cating and invoking high heaven to spare and succor 
 Greece, and to invigorate her arms m her glorious 
 cause, whilst temples and senate houses were alike 
 resounding with one burst of generous and holy sym- 
 pathy ; in the year of our Lord and Saviour, that 
 Saviour of Greece and of us; a proposition was of- 
 fered in the American Congress to send a messenger 
 to Greece, to inquire into her state and condition, 
 "with a kind expression of our good wishes and our 
 sympathies — and it was rejected !" Go home, if you 
 can — go home, if you dare, to your constituents, and 
 tell them that you voted it down; meet if you can, 
 the appalling countenances of those who sent you 
 here, ami tell them that you shrank from the decla- 
 ration of your own sentiments'; that you cannot tell 
 how, but that some unknown dread, some indescri- 
 bable apprehension, some indefinable danger, drove 
 you from your purpose; that the spectres of eimiters, 
 and crowns, and crescents, gleamed before you and 
 alarmed you ; and that you suppressed all the noble 
 feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by national 
 independence, and by humanity. I cannot bring 
 myself to believe, that such will be the feeling of a 
 majority of the committee. But for myself, though 
 every friend of the cause should desert it, and I be 
 left to stand alone with the gentleman from Massa- 
 chusetts, I will give to his resolution the poor sanc- 
 tion of my unqualified approbation. 
 
 ADDRESS TO LAFAYETTE ON TITS RECEPTION BY THE IIOCSE OF 
 REPRESENTATIVES, DECEMBER 10, 1824. 
 
 General, — The House of Representatives of, the 
 "United States, impelled alike by its own feelings, 
 and by those of the whole American people, could 
 not have assigned to me a more gratifying duty than 
 that of presenting to you cordial congratulation's upon 
 the occasion of your recent arrival in the United 
 States, in compliance with the wishes of Congress, 
 and to assure you of the very high satisfaction which 
 your presence affords on this early theatre of your 
 glory and renown. Although but few of the mem- 
 bers who compose this body shared with you in the 
 war of our revolution, all have, from impartial his- 
 tory, or from faithful tradition, a knowledge of the 
 perils, the sufferings, and the sacrifices, which you 
 voluntarily encountered, and the signal services, in 
 America and in Europe, which you performed for 
 an infant, a distant, and an alien people; and all feel 
 and own the very great extent of the obligations 
 under which you have placed our country. But the 
 relations in which you have everstood to the United 
 States, interesting and important as they have been, 
 do not constitute the only motive of the respect and 
 admiration which the House of Representatives en- 
 tertain for you. Your consistency of character, your 
 uniform devotion to regulated liberty, in all' the 
 vicissitudes of a long and arduous life, also com- 
 
 mands its admiration. During all the recent con- 
 vulsions of Europe, amidst, as after the dispersion of, 
 every political storm, the people of the United States 
 have beheld you, true to your old principles, firm 
 and erect, cheering and animating with your well 
 known voice, the votaries of liberty, its faithful and 
 fearless champion, ready to shed the last drop of that 
 blood which here you so freely and nobly spilt, in 
 the same holy cause. 
 
 The vain wish has been sometimes indulged, that 
 Providence would allow the patriot, after death, to 
 return to his country, and to contemplate the inter- 
 mediate changes which had taken place ; to view the 
 forests felled, the cities built, the mountains levelled, 
 the canals cut, the highways constructed, the pro- 
 gress of the arts, the advancement of learning, and 
 the increase of population. General, your present 
 visit to the United States is a realization of the con- 
 soling object of that wish. You are in the midst 
 of posterity. Every where, you must have been 
 struck with the great changes, physical and moral, 
 which have occurred since you left us. Even this 
 very city, bearing a venerated name, alike endeared 
 to you and to us, has since emerged from the forest 
 which then covered its site. In one respect you be- 
 hold us unaltered, and this is in the sentiment of 
 continued devotion to liberty, and of ardent affection 
 and profound gratitude to your departed friend, the 
 father of his country, and to you, and to your illus- 
 trious associates in the field and in the cabinet, for 
 the multiplied blessings which surround us, and for 
 the very privilege of addressing you which I now 
 exercise. This sentiment, now fondly cherished by 
 more than ten millions of people, will be transmitted, 
 wifh unabated vigor, down the tide of time, through 
 the countless millions who are destined to inhabit 
 this continent, to the latest posterity. 
 
 FROM THE VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE SENATE, 1842. 
 
 From 1806, the period of my entrance upon this 
 noble theatre, with short intervals, to the present 
 time, I have been engaged in the public councils, at 
 home or abroad. Of the services rendered during 
 that long and arduous period of my life it does not 
 become me to speak ; history, if she deign to notice 
 me, and posterity, if the recollection of my humble 
 actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best, 
 the truest, and the most impartial judges. When 
 death has closed the scene, their sentence will be 
 pronounced, and to that I commit myself. My pub- 
 lic conduct is a fair subject for the criticism and 
 judgment of my fellow-men ; but the motives by 
 which I have been prompted are known only to the 
 great searcher of the human heart and to myself; 
 and I trust I may be pardoned for repeating a de- 
 claration made some thirteen years ago, that, what- 
 ever errors, and doubtless there have been many, 
 may be discovered in a review' of my public service, 
 I can with unshaken confidence appeal to that divino 
 arb'tir for the truth of the declaration, that I have 
 been influenced by no impure purpose, no personal 
 motive; have sought no personal aggrandizement; 
 but that, in all my public acts, I have had a single 
 eye directed, and a warm and devoted heart dedi- 
 cated, to what, in my best judgment, I believed the 
 true interests, the honor, the union, and the happi- 
 ness of my country required. 
 
 During that long period, however, I have not 
 escaped the fate of other public men, nor failed to 
 incur censure and detraction of the bitterest, most 
 unrelenting, and most malignant character: and 
 though not always insensible to the pain it was 
 meant to inflict, I have borne it in general with com- 
 posure, and without disturbance here, [pointing to 
 his breast,] waiting as I have done, in perfect and 
 
65G 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 undoubting confidence, for the ultimate triumph of 
 justice and of truth, and in the entire persuasion 
 that time would settle all things as they should be, 
 and that -whatever wrong or injustice I might expe- 
 rience at the hands of man, He to whom all hearts 
 are open and fully known, would, by the inscrutable 
 dispensations of his providence, rectify all error, 
 redress all wrong, and cause ample justice to be 
 done. 
 
 But I have not meanwhile been unsustained. Eve- 
 ryAvhere throughout the extent of this great conti- 
 nent I have had cordial, warm-hearted, faithful; and 
 devoted friends, who have known me, loved me, and 
 appreciated my motives. To them, if language were 
 capable of fully expressing my acknowledgements, I 
 would now otter all the return I have the power to 
 make for their genuine, disinterested, and persever- 
 ing fidelity and devoted attachment, the feelings and 
 sentiments of a heart overflowing with never-ceasing 
 gratitude. If, however, I fail in suitable language 
 to express my gratitude to them for all the kindness 
 they have shown me, what shall I say, what can I 
 say at all commensurate with those feelings of grati- 
 tude with which I have been inspired by the state 
 whose humble representative and servant I have 
 been in this chamber? [Here Sir. C.'s feelings over- 
 powered him, and he proceeded with deep sensibility 
 and difficult utterance.] 
 
 I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Ken- 
 tucky now nearly forty-five years ago ; I went as 
 an orphan boy who had not yet attained the age of 
 majority ; who had never recogni.-cd a father's smile, 
 nor felt his warm caresses; poor, pennyless, without 
 the favor of the great, with an imperfect and neg- 
 lected education, hardly sufficient for the ordinary 
 business and common pursuits of life ; but scarce 
 had I set my foot upon her generous soil when I 
 was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as 
 though I hail been a favorite child, and patronised 
 with liberal and unbounded munificence. From that 
 period the highest honors of the state have been 
 freely bestowed upon me ; and when, in the darkest 
 hour of calumny and detraction, I seemed to be as- 
 sailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her 
 broad and impenetrable shield, repelled the poisoned 
 shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vin- 
 dicated my good name from every malignant and 
 unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable 
 pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with 
 the warm-hearted and whole-souled people of that 
 state; and, when the hist scene shall for ever close 
 upon me, I hope that my earthly remains •will be 
 laid under her green sod with those of her gallant 
 and patriotic sons. 
 
 ###■**"/*•#-* 
 
 In the course of a long and arduous public service, 
 
 especially during the last eleven years in which I 
 have held a seat in the senate, from the same ardor 
 nnd enthusiasm of character, I have no doubt, in the 
 heat of debate, and in an honest endeavor to main- 
 tain my opinions against adverse opinions alike ho- 
 nestly entertained, as to the best course to be adopt- 
 ed for the public welfare, I may have often inad- 
 vertently and unintentionally, in moments of excited 
 debate, made use of language that has been offensive, 
 nnd susceptible of injurious interpretation towards 
 my brother senators. If there be any here who re- 
 tain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction 
 produced on such occasions, I beg to assure them 
 that I now offer the most ample apology for any de- 
 parture on my part from the established rules of 
 parliamentary decorum and courtesy. On the other 
 hand, I assure senators, one and all, without excep- 
 tion and without reserve, that I retire from this 
 chamber without carrying with me a single feeling 
 
 of resentment or dissatisfaction to the senate or any 
 one of its members. 
 
 I go from this place under the hope that we shall, 
 mutually, consign to perpetual oblivion whatever 
 personal collisions may at any time unfortunately 
 have occurred between us; and that our recollec- 
 tions shall dwell in future only on those conflicts of 
 mind with mind, those intellectual struggles, those 
 noble exhibitions of the powers of logic, argument, 
 and eloquence, honorable to the senate and to the 
 nation, in which each has sought and contended for 
 what he deemed the best mode of accomplishing one 
 common object, the interest and the most happiness 
 of our beloved country. To these thrilling and de- 
 lightful scenes it will be my pleasure and my pride 
 to look back .n my retirement with unmeasured 
 satisfaction. . 
 
 ******** 
 
 In retiring, as I am about to do, for ever, from the 
 senate, suffer me to express my heartfelt wishes that 
 all the great and patriotic objects of the wise fram- 
 ers of our constitution may be fulfilled ; that the 
 high destiny designed for it may be fully answered; 
 and that its deliberations, now and hereafter, may 
 eventuate in securing the prosperity of our beloved 
 country, in maintaining its rights and honor abroad, 
 and upholding its interests at home. I retire, I 
 know, at a period of infinite distress and embarrass- 
 ment. I wish I could take my leave of you under 
 more favorable auspices; but, without meaning at 
 this time to say whether on any or on whom re- 
 proaches for the sad condition of the country should 
 fall, I appeal to the senate and to the world to bear 
 testimony to my earnest and continued exertions to 
 avert it, and to the truth that no blame can justly 
 attach to me. 
 
 May the most precious blessings of heaven rest 
 upon the whole senate and each member of it, and 
 may the labors of every one redound to the benefit of 
 the nation and the advancement of his own fame and 
 renown. And when you shall retire to the bosom of 
 your constituents, may you receive that most cheer- 
 ing and gratifying of all human rewards — their cor- 
 dial greeting of " well done, good and faithful ser- 
 vant." 
 
 And now, Mr. President and senators, I bid you 
 all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell. 
 
 JOHN SHAW. 
 Jotin Shaw, a poet of Maryland, was born at An- 
 napolis, May 4, 1778. lie was prepared for St. 
 John's College by Mr. Higginbothain, a teacher of 
 note in his day and district. After completing 
 his course, lie studied medicine; but instead of 
 settling down to home practice after being licens- 
 ed, obtained a surgeon's appointment in the fleet or- 
 dered to Algiers in December, 1798. lie remained 
 a. few months at Tunis, aiid was then sent by Gen. 
 Eaton to consult Mr. King, the American minister 
 at London, with reference to the threatened hos- 
 tility of the Bey ; but on receiving intelligence 
 that the anticipated difficulties had been arranged, 
 he proceeded to Lisbon and thence home, in April, 
 1800. He left again the next year to pursue his 
 studies in Edinburgh, where he fell in with the 
 Earl of Selkirk, and sailed with him in 1803 for 
 Canada, where the nobleman was founding a set- 
 tlement on St. John's Lhmd, in Lake St. Clair. 
 
 In 1805, he again returned home and commenc- 
 ed practice; married in 1807; removed to Balti- 
 more, where, in the beginning of the year 1808, 
 incautiously exposing himself by qccupying anen- 
 tire night in chemical experiments which required 
 
JOHN BRISTED. 
 
 657 
 
 him to frequently immerse his arms in cold water, 
 he incurred a consumption which caused his 
 death on his voyage from Charleston to the Ba- 
 hamas on the 10th of January, 1809. His poems 
 were collected after his death and published with 
 a memoir, containing extracts from his foreign 
 journals and correspondence, in 1810. They are 
 on the usual miscellaneous topics of fugitive verse 
 of the average order of excellence.* 
 
 A S1.EIGUING SONG. 
 
 When calm is the niglit, and the stars shine bright, 
 The sleigh glides smooth and cheerily; 
 And mirth and jest abound, 
 While all is still around, 
 Save the horses' trampling Bound, 
 And the horse-bells tinkling merrily. 
 
 But when the drifting snow in the traveler's face shall 
 blow. 
 And hail is driving drearily. 
 
 And the wind is shrill and loud, 
 Then no sleigh shall stir abroad, 
 Nor along the beaten road 
 Shall the horse-bells tinkle merrily. 
 
 But to-night the skies are clear, and we have not to 
 fear 
 That the time should linger wearily ; 
 For good-humour has a charm 
 Even winter to disarm, 
 And our cloaks shall wrap us warm. 
 And the bells shall tinkle merrily. 
 
 And whom do I spy, with the sparkling eye, 
 And lips that pout so cherrily ; 
 
 Round her neck the tippet tied, 
 
 Ready in the sleigh to glide? 
 
 Oil ! with her I love to ride, 
 When the horse-bells tinkle merrily. 
 
 JOHN BKISTED. 
 John Bristed, who occupied for a number of 
 years a conspicuous position in New York society 
 by his mental activity and his literary productions, 
 was born in Dorsetshire, England, in 1778, the 
 son of a clergyman of the Established Church. Ho 
 was educated at Winchester College, pursued the 
 study of medicine at Edinburgh, then turned his 
 attention to law, became a member of the society 
 of the Inner Temple, and as he himself has 
 phrased it, " during two years of pupillage in the 
 office of Mr. Chitty, cultivated the melancholy 
 science of special pleading.'! He published a 
 number of books at this time. The Adviser, 
 or the Mora! and Literary Tribunal, in four vo- 
 lumes, in 18o2, is a collection of essays on topics 
 of morals addressed to the youth of Great Britain. 
 His AvSpaiftavoiiivos ; or a Pedestrian Tour 
 through part of the Highlands of Scotland in 
 1801, was noticed with some severity in Aikin's 
 Annual Review,! where avc catch a glimpse of its 
 plan : — "Mr. Bristed and his companion Dr. An- 
 drew Cowen travelled through the Highlands in 
 the character of American sailors. They roam 
 the country in forma pauperum, descant loudly 
 on the luxuries of the great and the miseries of 
 the poor, go from pothouse to pothouse, for hall a 
 
 * Poems by the late Doctor John Shaw, to which is prefix- 
 ed ii Biographical Sketch of the Author. Edward Earle, Phi- 
 ladelphia, 181(1. 
 
 t Thoughts on the Anglican and American Churches, p. 87. 
 
 S ii. 408. v 
 
 vol. i, — 42 
 
 bed, complain of the jealousy of the police 
 because they are taken up for spies, and of the 
 frequent inhospitality of the Scots becauso they 
 were not welcomed as gentlemen." 
 
 He also published a collection of Critical and 
 Philosophical Essays in 1804. 
 
 In 1805 he published in London, The Society 
 of Friends Examined, in which a favorable view 
 is taken of the peculiarities of the sect; and in 
 the following year, Edward and Anna, or a Pic- 
 ture of Human Life. 
 
 Mr. Bristed came to America in the spring of 
 1806, and established himself in the practice of 
 the law at New York. His practice at the New 
 York bar did not fully employ him ; for we find 
 him engaged in the delivery of lectures and the 
 composition of several books, which did not es- 
 cape the satire of Halleck in "Fanny." 
 
 In 1807 he was engaged in conducting The 
 Monthly Register, Magazine, and Review of the 
 United, States, which had been commenced in 
 Charleston, S. C, in 1805, under the direction of 
 Stephen Cullen Carpenter, ati ingenious man of 
 letters, who subsequently edited The Mirror of 
 Taste, a periodical in Philadelphia, and published 
 a life of Jefferson.* 
 
 In 1809 Mr. Bristed published in New York— 
 Hints on the National Bankruptcy of Britain, 
 and on her Resources to maintain the present con- 
 test with France; in 1811, a volume — The Re- 
 sources of the British Empire, together with a 
 view of the probable result of the present contest, 
 between Britain and France, followed in 1818 by 
 a similar review of The Resources of the United 
 States of America ; or a View of the Agricultural, 
 Commercial, Manufacturing, Financicd, Political, 
 Literary, Moral, and Religious Capacity and Cha- 
 racter of the American people. The last is a work 
 of ability and interest, characterized by tho au- 
 thor's scholarship, his full animated style, and his 
 conservative opinions. The chapter on the litera- 
 ture of the United States is in a philosophical 
 spirit. 
 
 In 1814 he issued " a Prospectus of a scries of 
 courses of Lectures to he delivered by John Bris- 
 ted, counsellor-at-law," in an octavo pamphlet of 
 forty-one pages. There were to he four courses 
 of at least fifty lectures each ; the first and second 
 to be addressed to students generally ; tho third 
 and fourth exclusively to students at law. The 
 principles of Metaphysics, History, Political 
 Economy, were the subjects of the first ; their 
 application to National History, National Govern- 
 ment, and to Eloquence, oral and written, of the 
 second; the third was an elementary outline of tho 
 various legal codes of civilized nations, common, 
 civil, and international law ; and tho fourth course 
 
 * In 1S09 Carpenter published at New York two volumes of 
 '•Memoirs of Jefferson, containing a concise History of tho 
 United States from tlic acknowledgment of their Independence, 
 Willi a view of the Rise and Progress of Fronch Influence, and 
 French Principles in that country." As the titlo indicates, th:i 
 work is decidedly anti-Jeffcrsonian. No publisher's name ap- 
 pears on tlie title-page, but it is "Printed for tho Purchasers." 
 The " Mirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor" was published in 
 four volumes by Bradford and Inskeop, -at Philadelphia, in 
 1810 and 1811. It contained some very clever sketches of 
 American actors, which were amongst the earliest productions 
 of the artist Leslie. 
 
 In 1815 Carpenter published in Philadelphia two octavo 
 volumes of " Select American Speeches, Forensic and Parlia- 
 mentary, wilh Prefatory Remarks: being a sequel to Dr. Chap- 
 man's ' Select Speeches.' " 
 
658 
 
 > 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 was to followthe track of Blackstone. At the con- 
 clusion he also proposes to devote one evening in 
 every week " to the explanation of the element- 
 ary principles of elocution." 
 
 He delivered the tame year An Oration on the 
 Utility of Literary Establishments on occasion 
 of the opening of Eastburn's Literary Kooms in 
 New York, — the germ of noble projects since hap- 
 pily realized in such ample institutions as the 
 Astor Library and other literary associations of 
 the tit}-. While a resident of New York he mar- 
 ried a widow, the daughter of the late millionaire 
 John Jacob Astor. 
 
 Mr. Bristed, always of an earnest mind, en- 
 gaged deeply in theological studies with the as- 
 sistance of Bishop Griswold of the eastern dio- 
 cese. He was ordained, and became an efficient 
 assistant in organizing the parish of St. Mark's, in 
 Warren, Rhode Island, and extending Episcopacy 
 in the state. In 1822 he published his Thoughts 
 on the Anglican and American- Art glo Churches, 
 in an octavo volume, which exhibits his preference 
 of the voluntary system of America over the es- 
 tablishments of England. It is written in an 
 earnest evangelical spirit. In 1820 he had suc- 
 ceeded Bishop Griswold as rector of St. Michael's 
 church at Bristol, R. I. There he continued to 
 preach while his health permitted, the last twelve 
 years of his life' being passed, in consequence of 
 illness, in retirement from the active duties of 
 his ministry. He died at his residence at Bristol 
 Feb. 23, 1855, in his seventy-seventh year. 
 
 Mr. Bristed was of an ardent, susceptible tem- 
 perament, of quick perceptions, enthusiastic in 
 the pursuit of his convictions, of a strong will, and 
 of great industry, but lacking at times in judg- 
 ment. The warmth of his character was shown 
 in his intimacy with Dr. Mason, in his strong 
 sympathies with whatever he took in hand, and 
 in his devotion to the church in which he minis- 
 tered. He was an earnest preacher, and secured 
 the attention of his listeners. His style inclined 
 to over fulness in rhetoric, but it never lacked 
 matter. 
 
 WILLIAM AUSTIN, 
 A lawyer of Massachusetts, and a writer of 
 marked individual .temperament, with strong 
 powers of humor and observation, was born 
 March 2, 1778. He studied at Harvard, where 
 his name appears on the list of graduates for 1798. 
 In 1801, he delivered an oration at Charlestown, 
 on the anniversary of the Battle of Bunker's Bill, 
 which was printed.* His Letters from London, 
 written during the years 1802 and 1803, were 
 printed in an octavo volume at Boston, in 1804. 
 The letters are written with ease and elegance, 
 and show a sprightly inquisitive mind, with a 
 strong flavor of what was called in that day 
 "jacobinism," in its judgments of affairs of 
 church and state. He went to study John Bull, 
 and amuse himself with his humors, and the 
 
 * An Oration, pronounced at Charlestown, at the request of 
 the Artillery Company, on the 17th June; being the Anniver- 
 sary of the Battle of Bunker's Hill, and of that Company. 
 
 How sleep the brave who sink to rest, 
 With all their country's honors blest ! 
 
 Collins. 
 
 By William Austin, A.E. Charlestown. Samuel Ethcridge, 
 
 1S01. 
 
 reader is abundantly entertained with the result 
 in his lively pages. In his comparison of the 
 Scotch and English, he remarks of the latter — 
 " They differ wonderfully from the Scotch in one 
 particular : a Scot is partial to his fellow-Scotch- 
 men, with very little fondness for Scotland : an 
 Englishman is still more partial to England, with 
 very little fondness for Englishmen." Austin's 
 opportunities for social observation were con- 
 siderable, and he has given us pleasant pictures 
 of his intercourse with leading people at Oxford, 
 London, and elsewhere. Dining with the fellows 
 at St. John's, he so impressed them with his 
 description of the Atlantic cities, that they ex- 
 pressed a regret " that we were no longer the 
 same people," upon which he replied with good 
 humor, " that was their own fault, for the United 
 States would doubtless accept them as a colony." 
 He was at a bookseller's dinner with Johnson, 
 of St. Paul's churchyard, where he met Fuseli. 
 He visits the venerable Dr. Griffiths, of Monthly 
 Review memory, at Turnham Green, and talks 
 with him of the interviews of Hume and Rous- 
 seau at that spot, and there is a capital account 
 of a meeting with Holcroft and Dr. Wolcot at 
 Godwin's residence at Somerstown. Austin had 
 an eye for character, and hits off his subjects with 
 felicity. His descriptions of the orators then in 
 the ascendant in Parliament, Fox, Pitt, Windham, 
 and others, are of interest. Of Fox we have 
 this personal description at the Hustings : — 
 
 You will expect a description of Mr. Fox, his ap- 
 pearance and demeanour. You wish to know how 
 he was dressed, how he stood, and how he looked. 
 In his youth he is reported to have been as great a 
 fop as was Aristotle : I will only say, at present, his 
 appearance wns altogether against him. He looked 
 as if he had been long in the sea service, and after 
 many a storm, had retired on half pay. His greasy 
 buff waistcoat, threadbare blue coat, and weather- 
 beaten hat, gave him, in connexion with his great 
 corpulency and dark complexion with short dark 
 hair hastening to gray, very much the appearance 
 of a laid up sea captain. He has the countenance 
 of an ancient Englishman, but long watching has 
 changed the temperature of health to a dun colour. 
 He would be thought, at present, by one who did 
 not know him, to be a noble dispositioned, rather 
 than a great, man. 
 
 About the year 1805, we hear of Austin's being 
 engaged in a duel with James II. Elliott, growing 
 out of a political newspaper altercation. The 
 duel was fought in Rhode Island, and Austin was 
 slightly wounded.* 
 
 In 1807, he published a volume of Unitarian 
 views, entitled, An Essay on the Human Cha- 
 racter of Jesus Christ. Some years later, we 
 find liiiH a contributor to Buckingham's New 
 England Galaxy of a remarkable legendary tale, 
 entitled Peter Eugg, the Missing Man. i He also 
 ►wrote the paper, The Late Joseph Natterstrom, in 
 the first number of the New England Magazine. 
 These show his fine qualities as a writer. 
 
 Austin was eminent at the bar of Suffolk and 
 
 * Loring's Boston Orators, p. 8*29. ; 
 
 ' t It may be found in the Boston Book for 1841. It was re- 
 printed from the Galaxy in other papers and books, and was, 
 says Buckingham, " read more than any other communication 
 that has fallen within my knowledge. It is purely fictitious, 
 and originated in the inventive genius of its author.' - — Buck- 
 ingham's Personal Memoirs, i. ST. 
 
EDWARD LIVINGSTON. 
 
 659 
 
 Middlesex. 
 1841. 
 
 He died at Charlestown, June 27, 
 
 A DINNEB WITH GODWIN", nOI.CUOFT, AND WOLCOT — FEOM 
 TILS LETTEB8 EEOM LONDON. 
 
 London, May 15th. 
 
 Imagine to yourself a man of short stature, who 
 has just past the prime of life, whose broad high 
 forehead is fast retreating to baldness, but whose 
 ruddy, thoughtful, yet open countenance discovers 
 both the temperature of health and philosophy : 
 of manners remarkably mild, unassuming, rather 
 reserved; in conversation cautious, argumentative, 
 frequently doubtful, yet modestly courting reply, 
 more from a desire of truth, than a love of contend- 
 ing; in his family, affectionate, cordial, accommo- 
 dating ; to his friends confidential, ready to make 
 any sacrifice ; to his enemies — you would never 
 know from Mr. Godwin that lie had an enemy. 
 
 Mr. Godwin HveB at Somerstown, about three 
 miles from the city. His house with us would be 
 considered neat and simple ; here it is called a 
 cottage. His study is small, and looks into the 
 country, his library not extensive, yet sufficiently 
 large for a man who depends more on his own re- 
 sources, than on the labours of others. The portrait 
 of Mary, taken by Northcote, hangs over the fire- 
 place. This rendered the study one of the most 
 interesting places I ever visited. Though I have 
 frequently been in the study, I have only ventured 
 to look at the portrait. Mr. Godwin is since mar- 
 ried to a charming woman, who seems devoted to 
 domestic happiness. He is at present occupied 
 with his Geoffrey Chaucer, a work of great expec- 
 tation. 
 
 A billet from Mr. Godwin informed me this morn- 
 ing, that Mr. Holcroft and Dr. Wolcot would dine 
 there to day. 
 
 Mr. Holcroft, though nearly sixty, has suffered 
 nothing, either from years, laborious mental exer- 
 tion, or persecution. He has all the activity and 
 vivacity of youth. Just returned from the conti- 
 nent, whither lie had voluntarily banished himself 
 in complaisance to the wishes of the English go- 
 vernment, he has brought back with him not the 
 least resentment. Persecution, instead of embit- 
 tering his disposition, has had that effect, which it 
 has on all good men. A villain will always hate 
 mankind in proportion to his knowledge of the 
 world ; a good man, on the contrary, will increase 
 in philanthropy. 
 
 Literature is not a little honoured, when one 
 of her votaries, leaving a mechanical employment 
 at a period of life when habit is usually become 
 nature, has successfully holden the pen and realised 
 a handsome support. Still more charming is it to 
 see her votaries giving proofs of the strongest I 
 friendship. Holcroft and Godwin are firm friends. I 
 A striking likeness of the former, by Northcote, is I 
 in the dining-room. 
 
 Dr. Wolcot, in appearance, is a genuine John 
 Bull, and until he opens his mouth, you would little 
 suspect his relationship to the poet of Thebes. He 
 is a portly man, rather unwieldy, and I believe not 
 in haste to leave his chair when he is pleased with 
 his seat. He is hastening to old age, and seems dis- 
 posed to make the most, of life he can. There is 
 little similarity of character between Wolcot and 
 Godwin. They are both constant in mental exer- 
 tion ; but the oie prefers to sit on a silver cloud, 
 and lie wafted through the four quarters of the 
 world, looking down on all the varieties of nature, 
 and the follies of man. The other, possessed of the 
 nicest moral feelings, loves to envelope himself in 
 darkness and abstraction, in order to contemplate 
 
 whatever is just, fit. or useful. The one, laughing, 
 dressed in the gaiety of spring, enters society with 
 the pruning hook ; the other, more serious, labours 
 with the ploughshare. Holcroft. who never began 
 to think until his reasoning powers had come to 
 maturity, owing to a neglect of education, embar- 
 rassed by no system, follows the dictates of his own 
 mind, and if he is sometimes erroneous, the error is 
 all his own, it is never a borrowed error. Hence, 
 his conversation, embellished by the variety of life 
 which he has seen, is rendered rich, brilliant, 
 original, and impressive. 
 
 ******** 
 Wolcot, like most men of genius, has a contempt 
 for mere scholars, who, walking on the stilts of 
 pedantry, imagine themselves a head taller than 
 other folks. The talents of a certain famous man 
 being questioned, Wolcot observed — He was not a 
 man of genius, but a man of great capacity, and 
 said, if we would attend to him, he would dis- 
 tinguish between the learned man, the man of 
 capacity, and the man of genius. — " Here," said he, 
 " Ave will suppose a quantity of coins, ducats, pis- 
 toles, dollars, guineas, on this table. The learned 
 man will be able, after thumbing his dictionaries 
 for half an hour, to tell you the names of these coins 
 in all languages. The man of capacity will go 
 further, and tell you the value of each, and the 
 amount of the whole together, with every thing 
 relative to their use, difference of exchange and 
 o-igin. But who invented these coins ? The man 
 of genius." This gave general satisfaction. How- 
 ever, it was replied, and I thought very justly, That 
 unless the man of genius should acquire capacity, 
 his genius without capacity would be less useful, 
 than capacity without genius. For, the exertion of 
 genius is rare. God does not every day create a 
 world : and although genius may claim a higher 
 prerogative than capacity, they are mutually in- 
 debted to each other. If genius gives employ to 
 capacity, not unfrequently does capacity give direc- 
 tion and result to genius. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 EDWARD LIVINGSTON 
 Was of the same family with Governor William 
 Livingston of New Jersey, was the brother of 
 Robert R. Livingston, the Chancellor of the State 
 of New York, the friend of Fulton, and negotiator 
 of the purchase of Louisiana, and also closely al- 
 lied, by marriages with his family, to General 
 Montgomery and General Armstrong. He was 
 born at Clermont in the Livingston Manor, on 
 the Hudson, in New York, in 1764; was educated 
 at Princeton, and studied law with his brother, 
 the chancellor. Admitted to the bar in 1785, he 
 was engaged in his profession at New York till 
 1794, when he was elected to Congress from 
 Queens and Richmond counties. He then took 
 under his charge the reform of the criminal law, 
 one of the objects to which he especially there- 
 after devoted himself.* Returning to New York 
 lie was appointed by Jefferson United States Dis- 
 trict Attorney, while he was at the same time 
 elected to the mayoralty of the city. In the dis- 
 charge of the duties of the latter office he encoun- 
 tered witli intrepidity and diligence the visitation 
 of the yellow fever at New York in 1803.* In 
 
 * Dem. Eov.. p. 3G9. 
 
 f New York was vi?itedby the fever in the summer of 1803. 
 Livingston then resided at S T o. 1 Broadway. As Chairman of 
 the Board of Health, Livingston was indefatigable in lmexer- 
 
CGO 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 this year Livingston published a volume of Judi- 
 cial Opinions delivered in the Mayor's Co,urtof 
 the City of New York in 1802. It contains thir- 
 ty-nine cases, nearly all of them, saj-s Judge Daly, 
 upon questions of importance.* In 1804 he took 
 up his residence in New Orleans, where he be- 
 came distinguished in his legal profession, and was 
 elected to the state legislature, rendering various 
 services to the state in its then unsettled condi- 
 tion in legal matters, by his code of procedure and 
 other adjustments of judicial regulations. A per- 
 sonal controversy concerning the' batture at New 
 Orleans having arisen between him and President 
 Jefferson, and the latter having published in 1812 
 a pamphlet on the subject, Livingston in 1814 
 published an elaborate reply, distinguished by its 
 literary merits not less than by its argumentative 
 power. 
 
 On the defence of the city resulting in the 
 battle of New Orleans, he was of great service to 
 General Jackson, who freely used his pen and 
 counsel, having appointed him his military secre- 
 tary and aide. 
 
 In 1821 he was enabled to further his views of 
 legal reform by the commission which he received 
 from the General Assembly of the state to draw 
 and prepare a criminal code. His report, on this 
 subject, made the following year, met the ap- 
 proval of the legislature, was reprinted in London 
 in 1824, and published in a French translation in 
 Paris. He subsequently completed this import- 
 ant work in his System of a Penal Code for the 
 State of Louisiana. His general Code embraced 
 four distinct divisions : — A Code of Crimes and 
 Punishments ; a Code of Procedure ; a Code of 
 Evidence ; and a Code of Reform and Prison Dis- 
 cipline^ He also presented the result of bis la- 
 bors to the House of Representatives of the Uni- 
 ted States in his System of Penal Laws for the 
 United States of America, published by the Go- 
 vernment in folio in 1828. In his theory of 
 prison discipline he advocated to a certain extent 
 the system of solitary confinement and labor, 
 while he sought the means of reformation as well 
 as punishment in efforts for the education and 
 improvement of the culprit, and carefully gra- ' 
 duated the degrees of the penitentiary and other 
 remedial systems. The style in which these views 
 are set forth is as clear and simple as the ideas 
 are humane. In regard to capital punishment he 
 followed the humane suggestions of Beccaria, and 
 recommended to the Legislature of Louisiana, 
 " that the punishment of death should find no 
 place in the code which you have directed me to 
 
 tions for the relief and comfort of the Pick at the hospitals, and 
 in-his attentions to arrest the progress of the disease within 
 the city. From his official visits to Bclleviie Hospital he was 
 exposed daily to the infection and eventually took the dis- 
 order. No professional nurses could be obtained, and the 
 whole care of him, independently of his physicians, fell upon 
 Captain Wolstoneeraft of the artillery, who commanded upon 
 Governor's Island, Mods. Delabigarre, a French gentleman, 
 married and settled in New York, and judge W. A. Duer, theu 
 Livingston's law partner, to whom we are indebted for this 
 reminiscence. To the attentions of these friends, not less 
 than to the skill of medical attendants, Livingston attributed 
 his recovery. 
 
 * Historical Sketch of the Judicial Tribunals of New York 
 from 1623 to 1S4B, by Charles P. Daly, one of the Judges of the 
 New York Common Pleas, 1S55. A work of diligent and ac- 
 curate research', and in an excellent vein of local investigation 
 and legal inquiry. 
 
 t Ah analysis of these labors of Livingston will be found in 
 two articles in the ninth volume of tho Democratic P.eview. 
 
 present."* His argument on this subject is pre- 
 sented with equal ingenuity and eloquence. 
 
 From 1823 to 1829 he represented his district 
 in the House of Representatives of the United 
 States. 
 
 In 1829 Livingston was elected to the Senate 
 of the United States, and in 1831 entered the 
 cabinet of Jackson as Secretary of State. It was 
 while lie held this office that Jackson's celebrated 
 proclamation against the nullifiers of South Caro- 
 lina was issued. Two years later he was sent as 
 Minister to France, where he was engaged in the 
 difficult negotiation as to the payment of the in- 
 demnity. Returning to America in the summer 
 of 1835, he died at his familv-seat on the Hudson, 
 at Red Hook, May 23, 1836*t 
 
 An estimate of Livingston's personal and lite- 
 rary character is given in the following words, 
 attributed to his friend Andrew Jackson, by Au- 
 guste Davezac : — 
 
 " I once had the opportunity of hearing Jack- 
 son speak of the origin of his intimacy with Liv- 
 ingston. ' I felt myself suddenly attracted to- 
 wards him,' he said, 'by the gentleness of his 
 manners ; the charm of his conversation, gay 
 without frivolity, instructive without the osten- 
 tation of instructing ; by the profound acquaint- 
 ance he already possessed of the theories of so- 
 ciety, and of the laws in their relation to the cha- 
 racters of nations ; by his unlimited confidence in 
 the sagacity of the people, and of their capability 
 of self-government through the agency of repre- 
 sentatives specially instructed to express the opi- 
 nion of their constituents on great questions of 
 general interest, still more than on those of local 
 concern ; and above all by that lovely and holy 
 philanthropy which impelled him from his youth 
 to mitigate the severity of those penal laws 
 whose cruelties serve only to inspire in the masses 
 a ferocity that always maintains an equilibrium 
 with that of the laws which govern them.,' "J 
 
 Davezac was the brother-in-law of Livingston, 
 and earnestly devoted to his memory. He pre- 
 pared a volume of Reminiscences of Livingston, a 
 portion of which was published in the Demo- 
 cratic Review, to which, about 1840, he was a 
 frequent contributor.! 
 
 ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE, 
 
 Tire national explorer of the territory west of the 
 Mississippi, and a gallant soldier of the second 
 
 * Project of a New Penal Code for the State of Louisiana. 
 Lond. ed., p. 89 
 
 t Biographic Universelle, Supplement, Art. Livingston. 
 
 t Dcrii. Rev. viii. 370. 
 
 § Davezac was a native of St. Domingo, of French parentage, 
 received a military education in France, came to the United 
 States in his youth, studied medicine in North Carolina; on 
 the acquisition of Louisiana, settled at New Orleans; became 
 intimate with Livingston, who married his sister; received a 
 new direction to the law, and became a highly successful advo- 
 cate in criminal causes. He was aide to Jackson at the battle 
 of New Orleans, and afterwards engaged in political life, for 
 which his ready French eloquence gave him facilities with the 
 people. Jackson gave him the appointment of charge to the 
 Hague, where he passed the years from 1SS1 to 1839. Return 4 
 ing then to New York, where he took up his residence, he was 
 elected to the state legislature in 1S41 and 1S43. Having aided 
 the election of Polk, by taking the field as a political cam- 
 paigner, he was re-appointed to the Hague in 1S45, and held 
 the post till ISdQ. He died not long after his return to Ame- 
 rica, in New Yo k. 
 
 He was an eloquent speaker in the warm florid style, a man 
 of humor, and of brilliant conversational powers. 
 
 
JOEL R. POINSETT. 
 
 G31 
 
 war with England, was a native of New Jersey, 
 born at Lamaton, January 5, 1779. His father 
 was a soldier before him, and he followed his foot- 
 steps by entering the army at an early age. Whoa 
 Louisiana was obtained from France he was em- 
 ployed in 1805 in a government survey of the 
 new territory, in its western portions. He em- 
 barked from St. Louis in August of that } T ear, and 
 traversed for nearly nine months the Indian coun- 
 try of the North-west, adopting a conciliatory 
 policy among the Indians and British traders of 
 the region. In July, 1806, he set out on another 
 expedition, the object of which was the restora- 
 tion of some Osage captives, who had been taken 
 in war by a hostile tribe, to their nation. This 
 accomplished, he pursued his survey of Western 
 Louisiana. Winter overtook him, and his party 
 suffered severely. He unwittingly passed the 
 boundaries of the Spanish provinces and was tak- 
 en a prisoner and carried to Chihuahua, whence 
 he was soon dismissed, and in July of 1807 ar- 
 rived at Natchitoches. He published his Account 
 of Expeditions to the Sources of the Mississippi, 
 ami through the Western Parts of Louisiana, 
 from 1805 to 1807, and a Tour through the Inte- 
 rior Parts of Ne;o Spain, when conducted through 
 these Provinces by order of the Captain-General 
 in the year 1807, in Philadelphia, in 1810. It is 
 in the form of a diary, with an appendix of geo- 
 graphicd and other disquisitions. 
 
 On th.e breaking out of the war with England 
 in 1813 he received a colonel's command, and the 
 next year was appointed a brigadier-general. He 
 led the laud expedition in the attack upon York, 
 Upper Canada. He bravely stormed the defences, 
 but was mortally wounded at the moment of sur- 
 render by the enemy's explosion of their maga- 
 zine. He was carried to Commodore Chauncey's 
 vessel on the lake, where he died in the arms of 
 victory, with the captured British flag folfel un- 
 der his head. He thus fell April 27, 1813, at the 
 age of thirty-four. 
 
 He possessed some accomplishments in litera- 
 ture. Though self-taught, he had made conside- 
 rable progress in the foreign languages and the 
 mathematics. Dodsley's publication; "The Eco- 
 nomy of Human Life," was a favorite with him 
 for its moral maxims — to which he made some 
 additions in his copy presented to his wife shortly 
 after his marriage. 
 
 JOEL R. POINSETT. 
 Joel R. Poinsett was born in Charleston, S. C, 
 March 2, 1779, of a Huguenot family of distinc- 
 tion in the state. He was educated by Dr. 
 D wight, at Greenfield, Ct. At seventeen he wa.s 
 sent to England, where he was taught the classics 
 at a school near London; next studied medicine 
 at Edinburgh, and to recruit his health made the 
 tour of Europe, engaging before his return to 
 America in the study of military affairs, for which 
 he hud a special aptitude. In 1800, at the age 
 of twenty-one, he came home with a strong desire 
 to enter the army, but was induced by bis father 
 to become a student of Jaw. His studies were, 
 however, interrupted by new schemes of European 
 travel induced by ill-health, which he pursued 
 with the advantages of wealth, family influence, 
 and a happy natural disposition, facile to receive 
 and pleasant in the communication of knowledge. 
 
 He travelled through Switzerland on foot, visited 
 Italy and Sicily, and the Austrian empire. The 
 death of his father recalled him to America; but 
 he speedily resumed his travels, extending his jour- 
 ney to St. Petersburgh, where he was warmly 
 received by the Emperor Alexander, who was 
 much impressed by his military capacity, and who 
 offered him a command in his service. He then 
 travelled through the Russian empire to the 
 country of the Calmuck Tartars, visited Persia 
 and the region of the Caspian, meeting with adven- 
 tures which proved his courage, among the tribes 
 of that region. Returning to Europe, lie received 
 the first decided intimation of the breaking out of 
 the second war of the United States with Eng- 
 land at Paris, and soon presented himself in 
 America to President Madison, with a request for 
 employment in the army. While the necessary 
 arrangements wore pending, he received a com- 
 mission to visit South America and inquire into 
 the relation of the new Republics. He sailed to 
 Rio, crossed the Andes to Chili, and visited Peru. 
 The authorities of the latter state, on a rumor of 
 Spain having declared war with the United States, 
 seized the American whale ships .at Talcahuano, a 
 port of Chili. This aggression, Poinsett met in 
 person, taking himself the command of a small 
 force put at his disposal by the Chilian govern- 
 ment, and promptly rescuing the American 
 vessels. He was at Valparaiso during Porter's 
 heroic conflict in the Essex with the Phcebe and 
 Cherub, which he witnessed. The refusal of the 
 British officer to let him proceed homewards by 
 sea compelled him to cross the snow-covered 
 Andes in the month of April. At Buenos Ayres 
 similar difficulties of egress offered, but he got off 
 privately by a Portuguese vessel to Bahia, and 
 thence to Madeira, where he heard that peace 
 had been declared. 
 
 On his return to South Carolina he was elected 
 to the State Legislature, where he interested him- 
 self in utilitarian projects, securing the construc- 
 tion of the important road in the state over the 
 Saluda Mountain. In 1821, he took his seat in 
 Congress for the Charleston district, and was 
 twice re-elected. He discharged an important 
 mission to Mexico in 1822, under President 
 Monroe, during the brief imperial reign of Itur- 
 bide, of which lie published an account. He sub- 
 sequently, in 1825, returned to the country as 
 Minister Plenipotentiary under the administra- 
 tion of Adams, where he maintained his personal 
 independence with spirit and courage during some 
 scenes of peculiar difficulty growing out of the 
 revolutionary movements of the times. He re- 
 turned home in 1829 to his native state, to become 
 the leader of the Union party, and on his acces- 
 sion was called by Van Buren to the head of the 
 War Department. At the close of this period, in 
 1841, he delivered a spirited discourse on the 
 Promotion of Science at the first Anniversary of 
 the National Institution. He afterwards lived in 
 retirement, writing occasionally upon topics of a 
 practical character. He died at Statesburg, S. O, 
 Dec. 14, 1351* 
 
 The writings of Poinsett grew out of his active 
 career. His Notes on Mexico, made in 1822, with 
 an Historical Sketch of the Revolution, published 
 
 • De nooratio Review, i. 301-303 : 443-430. 
 
CC2 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in Philadelphia in 1824, is the most important. 
 It is a book of value, a personal narrative origi- 
 nally written in letters to a friend, and in its 
 description of manners and customs, one of the 
 best of the period when it was written, particu- 
 larly in its study of the national character. In 
 these respects it remained a valuable authority 
 till its interest was diminished by the shifting 
 relations of the country. 
 
 In 1846, a somewhat similar work of sound 
 political judgment appeared from the pen of 
 AVaddy Thompson of the same state, the Recollec- 
 tions of Mexico, which is of historical importance 
 for its sober representation of the estimate in 
 which Mexico was held by intelligent citizens of 
 the United States, on the eve of the war which 
 resulted in the annexation of the vast territory on 
 the Pacific. 
 
 Poinsett was also the author of several essays 
 and orations on topics of manufacturing and 
 agricultural industry. He 'had also considerable 
 taste for art, and was the founder of an Academy 
 of the Fine Arts at Charleston, which existed for 
 several years. 
 
 CLEMENT C. MOOEE 
 Was born in New York July 15, 1779. He re- 
 ceived Ids early education in Latin and Greek from 
 his father, the Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal 
 Chnrch in New York, and in 1798 became a gra- 
 duate of Columbia College. After leaving college 
 Mr. Moore devoted himself with much success to 
 the study of Hebrew, the result of which was sub- 
 sequent]}' made public in his Hebrew and English 
 Lexicon, published in 1809, 2 vols. To Dr. 
 Moore, therefore, belongs the high merit of having 
 been the pioneer in this country in the depart- 
 ment of Hebrew Lexicography. "When the work 
 was prepared for the press a difficulty arose from 
 the want of Hebrew type. Atter some delay a 
 fount was obtained from Philadelphia. The first 
 volume contains a complete vocabulary to the 
 Psalms, with an appendix of notes; the second a 
 brief general lexicon, arranged in alphabetical or- 
 der, with a grammar of the language annexed. 
 Though now super.-eded by more ample and cri- 
 tical productions this little work was, as the 
 " compiler hopes" for it, " of some service to his 
 young countrymen in breaking down the impedi- 
 ments which present themselves at the entrance 
 of the study of Hebrew," and establishes for the 
 city of St. Nicholas the earlier title to successful 
 efforts for the study of the venerable language of 
 the older dispensation. In 1821 he accepted 
 the appointment of " Professor of Biblical Learn- 
 ing, the department of the interpretation of 
 Scripture being added," in the General Theolo- 
 gical Seminary of the Episcopal Church. "When 
 that institution was united with the Diocesan 
 State Seminary his Professorship was entitled that 
 of " Hebrew and Greek Literature," and was not 
 long afterwards altered to that of " Oriental and 
 Greek Literature." From his family inheritance 
 he made a most important gift to the seminar) - of 
 the body of land in the city of New York on which 
 it is located, comprehending the entire space be- 
 tween Ninth and Tenth avenues and Twentieth 
 and Twenty-first streets, with the water-right on 
 the Hudson belonging to it. 
 
 Professor Moore has lightened his learned la- 
 
 bors in the seminary by the composition of nu- 
 merous poems from time to time, chiefly expres- 
 
 [ollMWrJr \o,Jmon,. 
 
 sions of home thoughts and affections, with a turn 
 for humor as well as sentiment, the reflections of 
 a genial, amiable nature. They were collected 
 by the author in a volume in 1844, which he de- 
 dicated to his children. Though occasional com- 
 positions they are polished in style, the author 
 declaring in his preface that he does not pay his 
 readers " so ill a compliment as to offer the con- 
 tents of this volume to their view as the mere 
 amusements of my idle hours; effusions thrown 
 off without care or meditation, as though the re- 
 fuse of my thoughts were good enough for them. 
 On the contrary, some of the pieces have cost 
 me much time and thought ; and I have composed 
 them all as carefully and correctly as I could." 
 The longest of these poems is entitled A Trip to 
 Saratoga, a pleasant narrative and sentimental 
 account of a family journey. Others are very 
 agreeable vers de societe, commonly associated 
 with some amusing theme. One, a sketch of an 
 old Dutch legend greatly cherished in all genuine 
 New York families, has become a general favorite 
 wherever it is known. It is 
 
 A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. 
 
 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through 
 
 the house 
 Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse : 
 The stockings were hung by the chimney with earc, 
 In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ; 
 The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 
 While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; 
 And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 
 Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap ; 
 AVhen out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
 I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. 
 Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
 Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
 The moon on the breast of the new- fallen mow, 
 Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, 
 "When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
 But a miniature sleigh; and eight tiny rein-deer, 
 With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
 I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
 More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 
 And he whistled, and shouted, and called them hy 
 
 name; 
 " Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now, Prancer, and 
 
 Vixen I 
 On, Comet I on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Dlitzen ! 
 To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! 
 Now dash away! dash away! dash away all !" 
 As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly. 
 When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky ; 
 So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
 With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 
 And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, 
 The prancing and pawing of each little hoof — 
 As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 
 Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 
 He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot. 
 And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and 
 
 soot ; 
 
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY. 
 
 603 
 
 A bundle of toys lie had flung on his back, 
 
 And lie looked like a pedlar just opening his pack. 
 
 His eyes — how tliey twinkled ! his dimples how 
 
 merry ! 
 His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry I 
 His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
 And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow ; 
 The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
 And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath ; 
 He had a broad face and a little round belly, 
 That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. 
 He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
 And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself ; 
 A wink of his eye and a twist of his head. 
 Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; 
 He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
 And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, 
 And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
 And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; 
 He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
 And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
 But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 
 " Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night." 
 
 F. S KEY. 
 Francis Scott Key was born in Frederick County, 
 Maryland, August 1, 1779. His father, John 
 Ross Key, an officer in the army in the Revolu- 
 tionary war, was a descendant from some of the 
 earliest settlers of the province. 
 
 The son was educated at St. John's College, 
 Annapolis, and, after completing his course, 
 studied law in the office of his uncle, Philip B. 
 Key, at Annapolis, and, in 1801, commenced the 
 practice of the profession at Fredericktown, in his 
 native county. Some years after he removed to 
 Washington, where he became District Attorney 
 of the city, and there remained until his death, 
 January 11, 18-13. 
 
 Mr. Key was the author, in addition to the Star- 
 Spangled Banner, of a few other songs and devo- 
 tional pieces. His poems were written without 
 any view to publication, on some passing topic for 
 his own and the gratification of his friends. They 
 were noted down on odd scraps of paper, backs of 
 letters, &c, a piece of several verses being often 
 on as many separate slips of paper, and were 
 6eldom revised by the author. 
 
 We are indebted for a copy of the Star-Spangled 
 Banner from the author's manuscript, and for the 
 Hymn for the Fourth of July, and the Song 
 written on the return of Decatur, both of which 
 are now for the first time printed, to the poet's 
 son-in-law, Mr. Charles Howard, of Baltimore. 
 
 ■When the warrior returns from the battle afar, 
 To the home and the country he nobly defended, 
 Oh ! warm be the welcome to gladden his ear, 
 And loud be the joy that his perils are ended. 
 In the full tide of song let his name roll along, 
 To the feast flowing board let us gratefully throng, 
 Where mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave, 
 And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave. 
 
 Columbians ! a band of thy brothers behold, 
 
 Who claim the reward of thy hearts' warm emotion, 
 
 When thy cause, when thine honor urged onward 
 
 the bold, 
 In vain frowned the desert, in vain raged the 
 
 ocean. 
 To a far distant shore, to the battle's wild roar, 
 They rushed, thy fair fame and thy rights to secure ; 
 Then mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave, 
 And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave. 
 
 In the conflict resistless each toil they endured, 
 ' fill their foes fled dismayed from the war's desolation ; 
 And pale beamed the crescent, its splendor obscured 
 By the light of the star-spangled flag of our nation. 
 Where each radiant star gleamed a meteor of war, 
 And the turbaned heads bowed to its terrible glare, 
 Now mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave, 
 And form a bright wreath for the brow of the brave. 
 
 Our fathers who stand on the summit of fame, 
 Shall exultingly hear of their sons the proud story, 
 How their young bosoms glowed with the patriot 
 
 flame, 
 How they fought, how they fell, in the blaze of their 
 
 glory. 
 How triumphant they rode o'er the wondering flood, 
 And stained the blue waters with Infidel blood; 
 How mixed with the olive the laurel did wave, 
 And formed a bright wreath for the brows of the brave. 
 
 Then welcome the warrior returned from afar 
 To the home and the country he nobly defended, 
 Let the thanks due to valor now gladden his ear, 
 And loud be the joys that his perils are ended. 
 In the full tide of song let his fame roll along, 
 To the feast flowing board let us gratefully throng, 
 Where mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave, 
 And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave. 
 
 THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.* 
 
 Oh! say can you see by the dawn's early light, 
 What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's lasl 
 
 gleaming — 
 Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the 
 
 perilous fight, 
 O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly 
 
 streaming ! 
 And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air. 
 Gave proof through the night that our flag was 
 
 still there ; 
 ! Bay does that star-spangled banner yet wave 
 O'er the laud of the free, and the home of the brave ! 
 
 On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the 
 
 deep, 
 Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence 
 
 reposes, 
 What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering 
 
 steep, 
 As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ? 
 Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam. 
 In full glory reflected^ now shines on the stream; 
 
 * This song was composed under the following circumstances : 
 — A gentleman had left Baltimore, with a flag of truce, for the 
 purpose of petting released from the British fleet a friend of 
 ids, who had been captured at Marlborough. He went as far as 
 the mouth of the Patu.\ent, and was not permitted to return, 
 lest the intended attack on Baltimore should be disclosed. He 
 was then-fore brought up the bay to the mouth of the Palapsco. 
 where the flag-vessel was kept under the guns of a frigate; 
 and he was compelled to witness the bombardment of Fort 
 M'Henry, which the Admiral had boasted lie would carry in a 
 few hours, and that the city must fall. He watched the flap at 
 the fort through the whole day. with an anxiety that can be 
 better felt than described, until the night prevented him 
 from seeing it. In the night he watched tlio bomb-shells, and 
 at early dawn his eye was again greeted by the flag of his 
 country. — M'Carti/u National Sonys, lii. 225. 
 
664 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Tis the star-spangled banner, long may it wave 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 
 
 And where is that band who so vauntingly swore 
 That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion 
 A home and a country should leave us no more? 
 Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' 
 
 pollution. 
 No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
 From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave ; 
 And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 
 
 Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 
 Between their loved homes and the war's desolation, 
 Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven- 
 rescued land 
 Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a 
 
 nation. 
 Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
 And this be our motto — " In God is our trust" — 
 And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 
 
 nYMN FOK TI1E FOURTH OF JULY. 
 
 Before the Lord we bow, 
 
 The God who reigns above, 
 And rules the world below, 
 Boundless in power and love. 
 Our thanks we bring, 
 In joy and praise, 
 Our hearts we raise, 
 To Heaven's bright King. 
 
 The nation thou hast blest 
 
 May well thy love declare, 
 From foes ami fears at rest, 
 Protected by thy care. 
 
 For this fair land, 
 For this bright day, 
 Our thanks we pay, 
 Gifts of thy hand. 
 
 Our fathers 6ought thee, Lord, 
 
 And on thy help relied ; 
 Thou heardest, and gavest the word, 
 And all their needs supplied. 
 Led by thy hand 
 To victory, 
 They hailed a free 
 And rescued land. 
 
 God of our lives ! that hand 
 Be now as then displayed, 
 To give this favored land 
 Thy never-failing aid. 
 Still may it be 
 Thy fixed abode ! 
 Be thou our God, 
 Thy people we. 
 
 May every mountain height, 
 Each vale and forest green, 
 Shine in thy word's pure light, 
 And its rich fruits be seen ! 
 May every tongue 
 Be tuned to praise, 
 And join to raise 
 A grateful song. 
 
 Earth ! hear thy Maker's voice, 
 
 The great Redeemer own ; 
 Believe, obey, rejoice, 
 
 Bright is the promised crown. 
 Cast down thy pride, 
 Thy sin deplore, 
 And bow before 
 The Crucified. 
 
 And when in power He comes, 
 
 may our native land, 
 From all its rending tombs, 
 Send forth a glorious band. 
 A countless throng, 
 Ever to sing, 
 To Heaven's high King, 
 Salvation's song. 
 
 AMERICAN ACADEMY OF AET8. 
 The American Academy of Arts and Sciences 
 was founded at Boston, 1780, and was the second 
 institution of its class in the country. Its objects, 
 as expressed in its charter, are "to promote and 
 encourage the knowledge of the antiquities of 
 America, and of the natural history of the coun- 
 try, and to determine the uses to which the va- 
 rious natural productions of the country may be 
 applied, to promote and encourage medical dis- 
 coveries, mathematical disquisitions, philosophical 
 inquiries and experiments, meteorological and 
 geographical observations and improvements in 
 agriculture, arts, manufactures, and commerce ; 
 and, in fine, to cultivate every art and science 
 which may tend to advance the interest, honor, 
 dignity, and happiness of a free, independent, and 
 virtuous people." 
 
 The number of members cannot be less than 
 forty or more than two hundred, and four stated 
 meetings are to be held every year. 
 
 The Presidency of the institution has been held 
 in succession by the following eminent gentlemen : 
 James Bowdoin, John Adams, Edward A. Holy- 
 oke, John Q. Adams, Nathaniel Bowditch, and 
 John Pickering, all of whom have been already 
 noticed in these pages. We have also spoken of 
 Count Rumford,* whose foundation by bequest of 
 a fund, in the control of the Academy, for the 
 encouragement of researches in heat and light, has 
 been of material service in advancing its objects. 
 The first volume of Memoirs was published in 
 1785. Four volumes have since appeared, all of a 
 uniform quarto size. Among the contributors we 
 meet with the names of President Kirkland, J. E. 
 Worcester, Nuttail the ornithologist, Dr. Holyoke, 
 James Bowdoin, President Wiilard, and Professor 
 Williams of Harvard, James Winthrop, Jeremy 
 Belknap, Caleb Gannett, Edward Wigglesworth, 
 NoaliWebster,Theopbihis Pai>ons, the Rev. Joseph 
 M'Kean, President of Bowdoin College, Dr. Bow- 
 ditch, Professor John Farrar, Thaddeus Mason 
 Hams, Benjamin Pierce, John Pickering, and 
 David H. Storer. Dr. Jacob Bigelow i* at pre- 
 sent the presiding officer of the society. A. 
 donation of $10,000 has been recently received 
 from the executors of the late Samuel Appleton, 
 being part of a fund bequeathed by that gentle- 
 man to public objects. 
 
 SIMON GEEENLEAF. 
 Tins eminent legal writer was born in Newbury - 
 port, Mass., December 5, 1783. His father was 
 a captain in the Revolutionary army, and on his 
 mother's side he was connected with the family 
 of the late Chief Justice Parsons. While he was 
 yet quite young, his father removed to Maine, and 
 when he was eighteen years old, he entered as a 
 law student the office of Ezekiel Whitman, Esq., 
 
 Ante, p. 371. 
 
BEVERLEY TUCKER. 
 
 605 
 
 of New Gloucester — since Chief Justice of Maine 
 — where he remained three years. In 1800 he 
 married, and began the practice of the law in 
 Standish, Maine, whence, after a residence of six 
 months, he removed to Gray, where he remained 
 twelve years. In 1818 he removed to Portland. 
 In 1820, upon Maine becoming a state, and the 
 establishment of the Supreme Court, he was ap- 
 pointed Reporter of its decisions. He held that 
 office until 1832, when he was superseded by a 
 political opponent. His reports, and especially 
 the later volumes, are considered by the profession 
 models of judicial reports. He was at this time 
 one of the foremost of the Maine bar, and had an 
 extensive practice. He remained in Portland one 
 year afterwards, and in 1833, upon the death of 
 Professor Ashmun, he was appointed Royal Pro- 
 fessor of Law in the Dane Law School, which 
 office he held until 1 846, when he was transferred 
 to the Dane Professorship, then vacant by the 
 death of Judge Story. He held this professorship 
 but two years, when, in 1848, his failing strength 
 becoming wholly unequal to its accumulated and 
 poorly requited labors, he resigned the place. His 
 release from care and toil was followed by an im- 
 mediate amendment of his health; and he was 
 enabled to devote himself to the preparation of 
 his law books. 
 
 The Law School at Cambridge is indebted for its 
 success to no one of its many able professors more 
 than to Mr. Greenleaf. Before Judge Story and 
 Mr. Greenleaf united their labors, it had been made 
 a respectable school by the efforts of Stearns and 
 Ashmun. The extended and well deserved repu- 
 tation of Judge Story as a jurist and a profound 
 lawyer, attracted large numbers of young men to 
 the school, and by his glow and fervor, he awakened 
 in them a-pirations for the higher attainments of 
 the profession ; but it was the gentle and affection- 
 ate, yet decided and controlling, manner of Mr. 
 Greenleaf, who had always the direction of the 
 internal ai Fairs of the school, and for many months 
 in eacli year during the absence of Judge Story 
 at Washington, and on his circuits, its entire con- 
 trol and management and instruction, which, 
 connected with the respect which his extensive 
 learning, his extraordinary aptness to teach, and 
 his power of attracting and holding the attention 
 of the students, kept the young men together, 
 satisfied and harmonious. By all those who had 
 the good fortune to be his pupils, his death is felt 
 as a personal loss. 
 
 Before coming to Cambridge, Mr. Greenleaf 
 was an author of law books. Besides his reports, 
 nine volumes in number, he published in 1821 a 
 volume of over-ruled cases; in 1842 the first 
 vcl ime of his work on Evidence ; in 1846 the 
 second volume; and in 1853 the third and con- 
 cluding volume. The first volume has reached the 
 seventh edition; the second, the fourth ; and the 
 third, the second edition. In 1846 be published 
 an annotated edition of Cruise's Digest of Real 
 Law. Of his position as a iaw writer, a distin- 
 guished judge has said:, "Among those eminent 
 lawyers who have never held judicial station, the 
 name and opinion of Mr. Greenleaf stand highest 
 as authority in all matters of law. He gained this 
 high position by incessant and devoted labor in 
 his profession." He also published in 1846 a 
 volume entitled, An Examination of the Testi- 
 
 mony of the Four Evangelists by the Rules of 
 Evidence administered in the Courts of Justice, 
 with an Account of the Trial of Jesus. The pre- 
 paration of this was begun as early as 1817, and 
 it has been republished in England. 
 
 Besides these works, he published others of less 
 size and importance, and of more temporary 
 value, and he also contributed not unfrequently to 
 periodical literature. 
 
 He was never a politician. He was once elected 
 to the Maine legislature, but there, devoted him- 
 self chiefly to amendments of the statute law of 
 the state. 
 
 He was an upright man and a devout Christian. 
 His death was sudden. He retired to rest in per- 
 fect health ; was soon seen to be ailing ; medical 
 aid was called, but before it arrived he had gone 
 to his long sleep. He left the wife of his youth a 
 widow ; and of a large family of children, two 
 sons and two daughters survive him* 
 
 BEVEELEY TUCKER, 
 
 The son of the eminent jurist, St. George Tucker, 
 was born at Matoax, Virginia, Sept. 6, 1784. 
 He was educated at Williamsburgh, where his 
 father took up his residence in the sou's child- 
 hood. Having completed his course at William 
 and Maiy, he prosecuted the study of the law ; 
 married in 1809, and removed to Charlotte 
 county, where he resided till his removal to Mis- 
 souri in 1815, of which state he became a resi- 
 dent, and where he was appointed judge. 
 
 •€? y^c 
 
 li^r j 
 
 He passed fifteen years in the West, when he re- 
 turned to Virginia. On the Fourth of July, 1834, 
 he was elected by the Board of Visitors to the 
 professorship of law in William and Mary Col- 
 lege,, which he held till his death, which occurred 
 on a summer tour in the state at Winchester, Au- 
 gust 26, 1851. 
 
 The writings of Judge Tucker are, his work on 
 Pleading, his lectures on Government, his three 
 novels of George Balcombe, the Partisan Leader, 
 and Gertrude, and his contributions to the South- 
 ern Review. He had begun shortly before his 
 death a life of his relative, John Randolph, and 
 also left among his unfinished MSS. parts of a 
 dramatic production. 
 
 We are indebted to a lettelWrom his intimate 
 friend William Gihnore Simms, for the follow- 
 ing familiar notices of his character and writings. 
 " He was a brave old Virginia gentleman, a stern 
 States Right Doctrinaire, intense of feeling, jea- 
 lous of right, and with an eager sense of wrong and 
 injury. He was jealous as a politician, like his 
 brother John Randolph, and had many of the 
 characteristics of that fiery politician, as his 
 speech at the Nashville Convention witnesses, 
 where his invective, more elaborate and polished 
 than that of Randolph, was quite as terrible. His 
 
 * Wo are indebted for this notice to the obituary of the 
 American Almanac for 1S55. It is evidently prepared by ono 
 who knew Judge Greenleaf, and we have preserved its lan- 
 guage entire. 
 
GG6 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 political tenets are fully displayed in his Lectures 
 on Government. 
 
 " In his style I regard him as one of the hest 
 prose writers in the United States, at once rich, 
 flowing, and classical ; ornate and copious,yet pure 
 and chaste ; full of energy, yet full of grace ; in- 
 tense, yet stately ; passionate, yet never with a 
 forfeiture of dignity. 
 
 " His novel of George Balcomheisabold, highly 
 spirited, and very graceful border story, true to the 
 life, a fine picture of society and manners on the 
 frontier — animated and full of interest. It lacked 
 color or warmth of tone, wanting the softening 
 effects of fancy, though not without imagination. 
 Rea-on was his predominant faculty. There was 
 a sternness in his writings, a directness and an in- 
 tensity, which show the author disdainful in the 
 pursuit of his object of all the flowers of the way- 
 side. When he deals with the pathetic, he rather 
 sports with it. This is the. one chief qualification 
 of the merits of the book, which is one of the most 
 vigorous of American novels as a narrative of ac- 
 tion and the delineation of mental power." 
 
 The Partisan Leader* is a curious anticipative 
 political history, published in 1837; the scene is 
 laid in Virginia in 1849, twelve years ahead. 
 Van Buren is represented in his third presiden- 
 tial term at the head of a consolidated govern- 
 ment, with the forms of a republic and the powers 
 of a monarchy. The Southern states, with the 
 exception of Virginia, have seceded. Its design 
 was to show what the novelist thought fit to 
 suppose the probable effects of the Van Buren 
 party continuing in power, in the destruction of 
 the Constitution, the dissolution of the Union, and 
 the conflict of small Republics which would fol- 
 low. 
 
 Gertrude, an original novel, appeared in the 
 Southern Literary Messenger, for 1844-45. 
 
 Of Professor Tucker's discharge of his college du- 
 ties at William and Mary, we learn from Professor' 
 Totten that his force of character "made a strong 
 impression on the minds of his pupils. Thegreater 
 part adopted his views on all subjects in which 
 he instructed- them. He had an original and 
 what might be called an executive mind. He 
 was exceedingly happy in his illustrations, and 
 seldom presented the most common idea in the 
 same form with others. His conversation had in 
 consequence an unusual attraction. He had a 
 warm heart, was cordially loved by his friends, 
 and as cordially hated by his enemies. 
 
 " Christianity occupied his attention greatly in 
 his later years. He wrote down his seasonings 
 as he advanced in the investigation. He gave me 
 these papers to read, and I was much interested 
 in tracing the progress of a powerful and original 
 intellect in its course from doubt to the most 
 child-like confiding faith. For many years pre- 
 ceding his death, he was a devout and exemplary 
 Christian."! 
 
 HENEY COLMAN. 
 
 Hexky Colman, a prominent writer on agricul- 
 ture, was born in Boston, September 12, 1785. 
 After completing his collegiate course at L>art- 
 
 * The Partisan Leader, a Tale of the Future, by Edward Wil- 
 liam Svdney. Washington Citv. James Cuxton, 1S37. 
 t MS. Letter of Prof. Silas Totten, March 15, 1S65. 
 
 mouth in 1805, he studied theology, and was 
 ordained June 17, 1807, minister of a Congrega- 
 tional church at Hingham, where he was also 
 engaged as the teacher of a school. In 1820 he 
 resigned his charge and removed to Boston, where 
 he remained, principally employed as a teacher, 
 until February, 1825, when he removed to Salem 
 to take charge of a new Unitarian church and 
 congregation formed for the express purpose of 
 securing his services. He remained in this place, 
 performing its functions with great acceptability, 
 and increasing his already extensive reputation 
 as a preacher, until his resignation in consequence 
 of ill health, December, 1831. 
 
 Mr. Colman now established himself on a farm 
 on the banks of the Connecticut, and gave his 
 whole attention to his favorite pursuit of agricul- 
 ture. The reputation of his experiments and suc- 
 cessful culture, and of his contributions to agri- 
 cultural journals, became extended, and on the 
 establishment of an agricultural commissioner by 
 the state of Massachusetts, he was appointed to 
 the office by Governor Everett. 
 
 Mr. Colman pursued the duties of this trust with 
 unwearied energy and industry, and after an ex- 
 tensive tour throughout the state, and the publi- 
 cation of several Reports, in the autumn of 1842 
 sailed for Europe to continue his investigations. 
 The ensuing six years were passed in a tour through 
 Great Britain and the continent, the results of 
 which were given to the public on his return in 
 1848 in his Agriculture and Rural Economy of 
 France, Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland; 
 European Agriculture and Sural Economy, two 
 volumes ; and European Life and Manners in Let- 
 ters to Friends, two volumes, works which exhibit 
 to advantage his powers as a writer as well as 
 observer. 
 
 In 1849 Mr. Colman returned to Europe in the 
 hope of restoring his health, which had now be- 
 come much impaired. The result was unsuccess- 
 ful, as his death occurred soon after his arrival, at 
 Islington, on the 14th of August. 
 
 In addition to his agricultural works Mr. Col- 
 man was the author of two volumes of sermons, 
 published during the period of his active ministe- 
 rial labors. 
 
 HENET LEE. 
 
 Henet Lee, the author of a spirited work on 
 Napoleon, and of a pungent volume on Jefferson, 
 was the son of General Henry Lee of the Revo- 
 lution, by his first wife Matilda, daughter of 
 Colonel Philip Tredwell Lee, who was long a 
 member of the King's Council, and the elder 
 brother of the two signers of the Declaration of 
 Independence, Richard Henry Lee and Francis 
 Lightfoot Lee, of Dr. Arthur Lee, who served his 
 country during the Revolution in several diplo- 
 matic appointments, and of William Lee, who 
 was an alderman of London when that struggle 
 commenced, but who heartily joined his brothers 
 in maintaining it, and afterwards became the 
 American Minister at the Hague. 
 
SAMUEL G. DRAKE. 
 
 667 
 
 Henry Lee was born .at Stratford, Westmore- 
 land County, Virginia, 1787, in the same room dis- 
 tinguished as the birthplace of two of the signers 
 of the Declaration just mentioned. He was edu- 
 cated at William and Mary, where he became an 
 excellent Latin scholar, and developed a taste for 
 letters which accompanied him through life. 
 During the war of 1812 he was appointed by 
 Madison a Major in the twelfth regiment, de- 
 signed chiefly for interior defence, but soon went 
 to the Canadian frontier as Aide to General Wil- 
 kinson, and afterwards served General Izard in 
 the same capacity. 
 
 On his return from Canada he met the late 
 Edinburgh Reviewer, Jeffrey, in New York, then 
 at the height of his reputation. They were both 
 possessed of brilliant conversational powers, and 
 their meeting was the delight of the many enter- 
 tainments where they came together. 
 
 At the close of the war, Major Lee retired from 
 the army, and married Miss Ann M'Carty, whose 
 estate adjoined his own paternal Stratford, where 
 he lived many years, more devoted to hunting 
 than farming ; when only the odd hours of good 
 days, and the dull ones of wet weather, were 
 amused with books. The correspondent to whom 
 we are indebted for these details of his life, men- 
 tions as an anecdote of his skill with tiie rifle, 
 that he has often killed two wild ducks at one 
 shot, by firing as they swam slowly by each 
 other exactly as their necks came within the 
 ranse of a single ball. 
 
 He was first impelled to literary labor by 
 Judge William Johnson's Life of General Greene. 
 That work was deemed by him so unjust to his 
 father's fame, and that of his brave legion, that 
 he resolved to defend both, which he did with 
 success in an octavo volume entitled, Campaigns 
 of 1782 In the Carolinas* published in 1824-. 
 Major Lee having been by education and convic- 
 tion attached to the Federal school, was politi- 
 cally proscribed by the dominant, so called, demo- 
 cratic party. On the nomination of Jackson, 
 however, who had in 1812 opposed this proscrip- 
 tion, he became one of the most influential advo- 
 cates for his election, in a series of essays which 
 he published in his behalf. 
 
 He was appointed by Jackson as Consul at 
 Algiers, whither he proceeded in 1829, but his 
 appointment not having been confirmed by the 
 Senate, lie did not remain there a year. His clas- 
 sical recollections induced him to visit Italy on 
 his way home, and in Rome he saw Madame 
 Mere, the mother of Napoleon. His lively im- 
 pressions of the Italian campaigns of the latter, 
 and his admiration for the hero, induced him to 
 attempt a vindication of his character from slan- 
 der, and an adequate record of his deeds. He 
 was delayed in the execution of this congenial 
 task by the necessity he found himself under of 
 discharging a more private and sacred one. He 
 again entered the field as the defender of his 
 father's memory from assaults in the published 
 writings of Jefferson, and wrote his Observations 
 on, ths Writings of Thomas Jefferson, published 
 
 * The Campaism of 1781 in the Carolina"; with remarks 
 historical and critical on Johnson's Life of Greene, to which is 
 added an appendix of original documents relating to the his- 
 tory of the Revolution. By H. Lee. Phila. 1824. 8vo. 
 
 in New York in 1832.* As a controversial work 
 tiiis was written with ability, its arguments se- 
 curing the admiration of Judge Marshall. The 
 " Observations" made their mark, and have never 
 been directly answered, though Tucker's Life of 
 Jefferson touches on the topics involved. In 1845 
 it was republished with additional notes meeting 
 Tucker's remarks, by C. C. Lee, Esq., of Powha- 
 tan. 
 
 After completing this work, Major Lee devoted 
 himself to what he designed to be a Life of the 
 Emperor Napoleon, and the first volume was pub- 
 lished in Paris and New York with that title in 
 I835,t bringing the narrative to the year 1796. An 
 appendix of nearly half the volume is occupied 
 with an argumentative examination of the posi- 
 tions of Sir Walter Scott in his History of Bona- 
 parte. 
 
 Lee died before a second volume was completed 
 at Paris, January 30, 18374 After his death, 
 the first volume and tbe additional matter which 
 he had prepared, were published in a large octavo 
 in London and Paris, with the title, The Life of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, down to the Peace of Tolen- 
 tino, and the close of his First Campaign in 
 Italy. 
 
 Riciiaed Heney Lee, the author of the lives 
 of his great grandfather, R. H. Lee, and of his 
 great uncle, Dr. Arthur Lee, is the son of the late 
 Tredwell Lee, of Loudon Count}', and Flora, the 
 second daughter of Colonel Philip Tredwell Lee, 
 of Stratford, Va. He studied law, and after 
 practising in the profession a few years, betook 
 himself to the more congenial pursuit of letters, 
 and is now a Professor in Washington College, 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 SAMUEL G-. DRAKE. 
 Samuel G. Drake was born October 10, 1798, 
 at Pittsfleld, N. H. He was educated at the com- 
 mon schools of the neighborhood, at that time 
 held only during a few winter months. At the 
 age of twenty he became a district school teacher, 
 
 * Observations on the Writings of Thomas Jefferson, with 
 particular reference to the attack they contain on the memory 
 of the late General llenrv Lee, in a series of letters, by II. Lee 
 of Virginia. New York! 1832. 
 
 + The Life of the Emperor Napoleon, with an Appendix, 
 containing an Examination of Sir Walter Scott's " Life of Na- 
 poleon Bonaparte;" and a notice of tho principal errors of 
 other writers, respecting his character and conduct. By II. 
 Lee. Vol. I. New York : Charles de Behr. 1835. We are not 
 aware that this work was translated into French. It was re- 
 ceived by eminent Frenchmen, as the Duke of Bassano, witli 
 great favor. General Napier, the author of the Peninsular 
 Campaigns, commended it highly. 
 
 X The following notice of his death appeared in GaliynanVs 
 (Paris) Sfeuengor at the time : — 
 
 "Death of Major Henry Lee, author of the Life of Napoleon, 
 &c., &c. This distinguished American has fallen a victim to 
 the epidemic which now pervades the capital. He expired 
 yesterday morning after much Buffering, from a short illness of 
 complicated influenza. 
 
 " In the prime of life, and in the full vigor of a well cultivat- 
 ed intellect, the. riches of which have already contributed to 
 the literature of the age. his untiring assiduity has been sud- 
 denly arrested in the promising career in which his hopeful 
 friends with so much pleasure saw him fast advancing. 
 
 " While letters lose in him a zealous votary, his numerous 
 friends, who know the greatness of soul which characterized 
 his actions, the suavity of his temper, his modesty and urbanity 
 of manners, will mine-le their tears with those of a disconsolate 
 widow, and long regret that 'that hand which was as firm in 
 friendship as it was strong In battle 1 has been so soon palsied 
 by the cold grasp of death." 
 
668 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 an occupation in which he was engaged for 
 seven years. 
 
 In 1830 Mr. Drake established the antiquarian 
 book store in Boston, with which his name has. 
 been long and favorably connected. 
 
 His labors as an antiquarian commenced in 
 1824, as editor of a reprint of Colonel Church's 
 History of King Philip's War, of which we have 
 already spoken. This was followed in 1832 by 
 the Indian Biography* and in 1833 by The 
 Book of the Indians, or a Biography and History 
 of the Indians of North America, a work of 
 much research and information, the popular suc- 
 cess of which is vouched for by the eleven editions 
 which have been published .f 
 
 In 1836 Mr. Drake published a number of con- 
 temporary narratives of the early colonial wars, 
 with the title, The Old Indian Chronicle. In 1839 
 he prepared Indian Captivities, a volume of the 
 original narratives of the sufterers. 
 
 In 18-47 the New England Historical and 
 Genealogical Register was commenced by Mr. 
 Drake, by whom it is still conducted, under the 
 auspices of a society of a similar title. It has 
 already done much for family and local history. 
 
 In 1852 Mr. Drake commenced the publication 
 of bis chief work, The History of Boston. It 
 will form when completed (as is anticipated with- 
 in the present year), a large octavo, profusely il- 
 lustrated with portraits, autographs, and views of 
 buildings and localities. It is a work of great re- 
 search, and contains much original information, 
 particularly in reference to the early discovery of 
 the New England coast, which has already been 
 of service to writers as well as readers of history. 
 
 HEJTET M. BEACKENEIDGE. 
 
 Henry M. Brackenridge is the son of the author 
 of Modern Chivalry, and was born in Pittsburg 
 the 11th of May, 1786. His father discovered in 
 him very early indications of superior intellect, 
 and resolved to give his personal attention to its 
 cultivation. The course of education was begun 
 almost in infancy, by himself with the assistance of 
 others ; and after ten years of age, excepting about 
 six months at the Pittsburgh academy, and about 
 the same length of time at Jefferson College, the 
 course of instruction was strictly private. At 
 seven years of age he was consigned to the charge 
 of a gentleman who visited Louisiana, and placed 
 at a French school at St. Genevieve, in Upper 
 Louisiana, for the purpose of learning the French 
 vernacularly. This was so successful that in less 
 than six months he had forgotten the English en- 
 tire]}'. Various causes prevented his being re- 
 stored to his home until near ten years of age. 
 It was at this time, Mr. Brackenridge states in his 
 
 * 12mo. pp. 350. 
 
 t The eleventh appeared in 1SD1. Svo. pp. 
 
 " Recollections," that his education commenced in 
 earnest. A little table was assigned him in his 
 father's private study, and instruction partly given 
 by his parent and partly by tutors under his di- 
 rection. Perhaps the greatest advantage to him 
 was derived from the continual intercourse with a 
 man of quick intellect and learning, who possessed 
 a happy method of communicating knowledge on 
 all subjects. 
 
 M 
 
 ftPftffiteMk****^ 
 
 On the appointment of his father to the su- 
 preme bench of the state, 3"oung Brackenridge, 
 then fifteen years of age, was placed for two years 
 in the office of prothonotary or clerk of the court, 
 preparatory to entering the office of a practising 
 attorney for the purpose of studying law. His 
 range of reading and general information was sin- 
 gularly extensive for his age, and his mind re- 
 markably precocious, although his proficiency in 
 the ancient classics and in mathematics was not 
 equal to his other attainments ; this was owing to 
 not having carried the study of them into maturer 
 years, and the too great variety of his other stu- 
 dies. He had imbibed their quintessence, how- 
 ever, without the labor of digesting them in bulk; 
 thus forming his taste on the finest models ancient 
 and modern. 
 
 At the age of twenty Mr. Brackenridge was 
 admitted to the bar as a well grounded lawyer. 
 After this he repaired to the residence of his father 
 in Carlisle, where, under his directions, he eon- 
 tinned for a year ormore to apply himself to the law 
 of equity and maritime law, intending to qualify 
 himself for practice in Baltimore. On going to 
 that city he entered the office of a practitioner 
 in chancery; he also attended the court-, where 
 he had an" opportunity of hearing the able law- 
 yers who then flourished at that bar. His youth, 
 want of means to enable him to " bide his time," 
 and the great numbers who occupied every branch 
 of the profession, discouraged him from attempt- 
 ing the practice without previous exercise of his 
 faculties on some more humble stage. Hearing 
 that there was but one lawyer in the town of So- 
 merset, he repaired to that place, and at once took 
 
HENhY M. ERACKEXUIDGE. 
 
 GC9 
 
 possession of the office which had been recently 
 vacated by the death of the other. There being 
 but two lawyers in this place he had the satisfac- 
 tion of 1 leing engaged on one side or other of every 
 case, thus obtaining an opportunity of exercising 
 his faculties which had been denied in Baltimore. 
 The business was not so great as to deprive him of 
 ample leisure for reviewing his studies, and going 
 through a course of historical reading, revising 
 Gibbon, Robertson, Hume, and other classical 
 English writers. He had made some progress in 
 Italian and German, to which he regularly de- 
 voted a portion of his time. With the French 
 literature he was familiar. A year was thus 
 passed here to advantage, when he received a 
 letter from a friend in New Orleans who had been 
 appointed sheriff, and who promised a very tempt- 
 ing opening there in the profession.' 
 
 In the spring of 1810, Mr. Brackenridge took 
 his departure from Pittsburgh for Upper Lou- 
 isiana, being desirous of visiting the scenes of his 
 infancy, to which his recollections fondly clung. 
 He was most kindly received at St. Genevieve by 
 the family in which he had lived; and it happen- 
 ing to be the court week became engaged in several 
 important cases. From this place he went to St. 
 Louis and followed the spring circuit, but without 
 changing his ultimate determination of going to 
 the south. After the courts were over, instead 
 of taking an office he set to work to collect mate- 
 rials for an account of the country. These formed 
 a series of essays published in the only newspaper 
 of the country, and which were afterwards used as 
 the groundwork of his volume on Louisiana, a 
 work spoken of in high terms when published in 
 Pittsburgh in 1812, two years afterwards. He 
 availed himself, while at St. Louis, of the opportu- 
 nity of improving himself in the Spanish language 
 under an excellent teacher, aud afterwards made 
 himself master of it in Louisiana. Being addicted 
 to novices and few pleasures, he found abundance 
 of time to apply to study. 
 
 In the autumn of 1811, Mr. Brackenridge de- 
 scended the river to New Orleans in what was 
 called a keel-boat, steam not being then in use. 
 It was not more than' a month or two after his 
 arrival until he was appointed Deputy-Attorney- 
 General for the territory of Orleans, afterwards 
 State of Louisiana. When the constitution went 
 into operation the next year he received the ap- 
 pointment of District Judge, although not more 
 than twenty-three years of age. It became ne- 
 cessary to turn his attention to the Spanish law, 
 the Siete Parlidai, and to the Code Civil, &c, all 
 based on the Roman civil law. Here a wide field 
 opened before him, to which he devoted himself 
 for two or three years with great earnestness ; at 
 the same time giving a large portion of his atten- 
 tion to Spanish literature, for which he enjoyed 
 the best opportunities. lie acquired the language 
 so as to speak and write it with fluency. Luring 
 the latter part of the war of 1812 he corresponded 
 with the general government, and gave important 
 information as to the designs of the enemy and 
 the condition of the country for defence. In i 814, 
 in the month of September, he left Louisiana on a 
 visit to Washington on an invitation to engage in 
 a diplomatic capacity, hut was taken ill in Ken- 
 tucky, and did not reach the seat of government 
 until after peace had been proclaimed. His re- 
 
 ception by Mr. Madison was kind, and he was 
 introduced by him to Mr. Monroe, Secretary of 
 State, to whom he communicated his intentions in 
 his favor. In Mr. Monroe he afterwards found, 
 on all occasions, a warm and ardent friend. In 
 the meantime he took up his residence at Balti- 
 more. At the instance of a bookseller he wrote 
 a popular history of the incidents of the late war, 
 which still holds its place after passing through 
 many editions.- It was translated into French and 
 Italian by distinguished authors. 
 
 The question of the acknowledgment of the in- 
 dependence of the South American republics being 
 theorder of the day, Mr. Brackenridge, in conjunc- 
 tion with Mr. Clay, took an active part in their 
 favor ; he made numerous translations of South 
 American papers, and wrote for the newspapers on 
 the subject. But his principal production was a 
 pamphlet of a hundred pages, being in the form of 
 a letter by an " American," addressed to Mr. Mon- 
 roe, then President of the United States This 
 pamphlet was immediately republished in Eng- 
 land in the "Pamphleteer;" and it being sup- 
 posed to express the views of the American go- 
 vernment, the Spanish minister, the Duke de San 
 Carlos, employed a writer to prepare a reply. 
 This pamphlet of Mr. Brackenridge was translated 
 into French by the Abbe du Pradt, afterwards 
 Archbishop of Malines, who passed a high enco- 
 mium on the production. 
 
 About the same period a very elaborate disser- 
 tation appeared from his pen in Walsh's Register 
 in support of the views of the administration on 
 the subject of the "boundaries of Louisiana" as 
 described in the treaty of cession by France and 
 Spain. It was regarded as a conclusive argument 
 on the American side of the question. 
 
 The government in 1817 having determined to 
 send Commissioners to the South American re- 
 publics as a preliminary step to their recognition, 
 Mr. Brackenridge received the appointment of 
 Secretary. The commission sailed in the Con- 
 gress Frigate in Deoemher, and after visiting Bra- 
 zil, Buenos Ayres, and the island of Margaritta, 
 returned to New York in 1818. Mr. Bracken- 
 ridge availed himself of every opportunity to col- 
 lect information, and in the course of the year 
 published his Voyage to South America in two 
 volumes octavo, and an improved edition in Lon- 
 don the year after. This work was declared by 
 Humboldt to contain "an extraordinary mass of 
 information, and to be replete with philosophic 
 views." 
 
 This experience of diplomacy satisfied him ; lie 
 found that it was very uncertain as a pursuit in 
 this country, there being no diplomatic corps 
 where promotion might follow merit, as in the 
 army or navy. He, therefore, determined to pursue 
 his profession, and took an office and made some 
 successful efforts at the bar, by which he obtained 
 reputation but no regular business ; this could 
 only have been the result of time where the prac- 
 tice was already monopolized. Popularity, how- 
 ever, had been obtained ; he was twice elected to 
 represent the city in the state legislature : but 
 this only rendered mere professional success more 
 distant. His speech in favor of the liberty of 
 conscience, in the debate on what was called " the 
 Jew Bill," which was published, added to his 
 reputation. At the same time he published an 
 
670 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 elaborate argument on the powers of the Court 
 of Equity, to compel a witness to disclose facts 
 on a bill of discovery to be used in another 
 state, there being no means to coerce his testi- 
 mony. This case has been since provided for by 
 an express act of Congress. The want of success 
 in obtaining clients began to render him impa- 
 tient, and he thought of the new countries to the 
 west and south, which offered a more immediate 
 prospect of occupation. About this time the 
 treaty of cession of Florida was negotiated, pre- 
 senting a new opening where the course would be 
 clear to him. On consulting with Mr. Monroe 
 and Mr. Adams he received assurances from those 
 gentlemen that he would be remembered in the 
 organization of the territorial government. He 
 accordingly proceeded to St. Louis in the fall of 
 1820, with the intention of going to Florida in the 
 spring, at which time the American government 
 ■would take possession of the new acquisition. 
 
 In April, 1821, he took passage in a steamboat 
 for New Orleans, and on his way overtook Gene- 
 ral Jackson, who had been appointed Commis- 
 sioner to take possession of Florida, and after- 
 wards to act as governor. The boat in which he 
 had taken passage having been disabled, he and his 
 suite were transferred to the one which had over- 
 taken it. The General sent for Mr. Brackenridge 
 and requested him to join his military and diplo- 
 matic family in the capacity of a volunteer, his 
 services as a civilian, and his knowledge of the 
 French and Spanish languages, being a desidera- 
 tum in this party. He accordingly accompanied 
 the general to Pensaeola, and rendered him valu- 
 able assistance as secretary, negotiator, and coun- 
 sellor. That the General was well satisfied with 
 these services will appear from the following letter, 
 written from the first stage after his departure 
 from Florida. 
 
 Manuels, October 8, 1821. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I had a great desire to liave bad a few 
 njinutes' private conversation with you before I left 
 Pensaeola, but this, from the business with which I 
 was surrounded, was prevented me. 
 
 I hiid a wish personally to say to you, the grati- 
 tude I feel for the aid I have received from you in 
 the organization and administration of the govern- 
 ment, and to know if there was anything in which I 
 could render you any service. As you have made 
 Pensaeola your residence you can render much good 
 to the public and to yourself in a public capacity. 
 And as far as my influence will extend it will afford 
 me much pleasure in using it in your behalf. I 
 therefore will be grateful to receive a letter from 
 you addressed to me at Nashville, Tennessee, stating 
 whether you would prefer a seat in the judiciary or 
 any other office in the Floridas that would enable 
 3'ou to do the duties and pursue the practice of the 
 law. It will afford me great pleasure to forward to 
 Dr. Bronaugh letters in your behalf to obtain such 
 appointment as may be most agreeable to you. I 
 therefore request you to write to me on this subject. 
 
 Having left the administration of the government 
 in charge of Colonel Walton, for whom I have formed 
 a friendship, my dear sir/permit me to ask of you 
 your aid to him and his situation, a responsible one, 
 and I have a great desire that he may administer the 
 government satisfactorily to the nation and with 
 credit to himself. 
 
 Accept, my dear sir, a tender of my sincere regard 
 and unfeigned friendship. 
 
 Yours, Andrew Jackson. 
 
 In May, 1821, Mr. Brackenridge received the 
 appointment of United States Judge for the "West- 
 ern District of Florida, which office he continued 
 to fill for more than ten years to the general sa- 
 tisfaction. In 1832 General Jackson superseded 
 all the judges of the territories on the plan of 
 making room for political partisans. Mr. Brack- 
 enridge having married a lady of Philadelphia, in 
 whose right he held a valuable tract of land on 
 the Pennsylvania Canal near Pittsburgh, removed 
 to that place, where he now resides. He became 
 an active politician, made speeches, and published 
 pamphlets and articles for the reviews and news- 
 papers. In 1884 he published the first volume of 
 Ids Recollections of Persons and Places in the 
 West, the remainder being still in manuscript. 
 His publications of speeches, addresses, &c, are 
 numerous, but not collected into volumes. Among 
 his unpublished works are a History of the West- 
 ern Insurrection, one of the most important epi- 
 sodes in our national history. 
 
 At the election of General Harrison in 1840 he 
 obtained a seat in Congress, and the year follow- 
 ing was appointed a Commissioner under the 
 Mexican treaty, in conjunction with Governor 
 Marcy of New York. With this exception, and 
 the service of one session in the state legislature in 
 1844, he has remained in private life, but still de- 
 voted to letters. In 1847 he published a series of 
 letters in favor of the cause of the nation in the 
 Mexican war. His works are very numerous, and 
 as various as numerous, and exhibit an unusual 
 scope of knowledge on every subject. The essay 
 on Trusts and Trustees is a work which displays 
 legal research and acumen, although, like " Jones 
 on Bailment," intended to illustrate a particular 
 case. His Eulogy on Jefferson and Adanis, deli- 
 vered at Pensaeola in August, 1820, was highly 
 eulogized at the time by William Wirt. The con- 
 tinuation of the " Recollections" would form a 
 most valuable addition to our contemporary his- 
 tory, as few persons have had better opportuni- 
 ties of seeing and observing, or a more intimate 
 acquaintance with the prominent actors on the 
 tcene in his day, and few writers, we may add, 
 are better qualified to convey their impressions in 
 a full, minute, and agreeable manner. Mr. Brack- 
 enridge apparently writes with ease to himself, 
 and certainly with pleasure to his readers. 
 
 ST. GENEVIEVE ON THE MISSISSIPPI AT THE CLOSE OF THE 
 LAST CENTURY.* 
 
 My guardian carried me directly to the house of 
 M. Bauvais, a respectable and comparatively wealthy 
 inhabitant of the village, and then took his departure 
 the same evening. Hot a soul in the village, except 
 the curate, understood a word of English, and I was 
 possessed of but two French words, oui and non, I 
 sallied into the street, or rather highway, for the 
 houses were far apart, a large space being occupied 
 for yards and gardens by each. I soon found a 
 crowd of boys at play; curiosity drew them around 
 me, and many questions were put by them, which I 
 answered alternately, with the aid of the before 
 mentioned monosyllables, " Where have you come 
 from?" "Yes." "What is your name?" " No." 
 To the honour of these boys be it spoken, or rather 
 to the honour of their parents who had taught them 
 true politeness — instead of turning me into ridicule, 
 
 * From EecollcctlODS of the West. 
 
HENRY M. BRACKENRIDGE. 
 
 671 
 
 as soon as they discovered I was a strange boy, they 
 vied with each other in showing me every act of 
 kindness. 
 
 M. Bauvnis was a tall, dry, old French Canadian, 
 dressed in the costume of the place : that is, with a 
 blue cotton handkerchief on his head, one corner 
 thereof descending behind and partly covering the 
 eel-skin which bound his hair ; a check shift ; coarse 
 linen pantaloons on his hips; and the Indian sandal 
 or moccasin, the only covering to the feet worn here 
 by both sexes. He was a man of a grave and serious 
 aspect, entirely unlike the gay Frenchmen we are 
 accustomed to see ; and this seriousness was not a 
 little heightened by the fixed rigidity of the max- 
 illary muscles, occasioned by having his pipe con- 
 tinually in his mouth, except while in bed, or at 
 mass, or during meals. Let it not be supposed that 
 I mean to speak disrespectfully, or with levity, of a 
 most estimable man ; my object in describing him is 
 to give an idea of many other fathers of families of 
 the village. Madame Bauvais was a large fat lady, 
 with an open cheerful countenance, and an expres- 
 sion of kindness and affection to her numerous off- 
 Spring, and to all others excepting her coloured do- 
 mestics, towards whom she was rigid and severe. 
 She was, notwithstanding, a most pious and excellent 
 woman, and, as a French wife ought to be, com- 
 pletely mistress of the family. Her eldest daughter 
 was an interesting young woman ; two others were 
 nearly grown, and all were handsome. I will tres- 
 pass a little on the patience of the reader, to give 
 some account of the place where I was domiciled; 
 that is, of the house in which I lived, and of the vil- 
 lage in which it was situated. 
 
 The house of M. Bauvais was a long, low build- 
 ing, with a porch or shed in front, and another in 
 the rear; the chimney occupied the centre, dividing 
 the house into two parts, with each a fire-place. 
 One of these served for dining-room, parlor, and 
 principal bed-chamber; the other was the kitchen; 
 and each had a small room taken off at the end for 
 private chambers or cabinets. There was no loft or 
 garret, a pair of stairs being a rare thing in the vil- 
 lage. The furniture, excepting the beds and the 
 looking-glass, was of the most common kind, con- 
 sisting of an arniuire, a rough table or two, and 
 gome coarse chairs. The yard was inclosed with 
 cedar pickets, eight or ten inches in diameter, and 
 six feet high, placed upright, sharpened at the top, 
 in the mnniier of a stockade fort. In front, the yard 
 was narrow, but in the rear quite spacious, and con- 
 taining the barn and stables, the negro quarters, and 
 all the necessary offices of a farm yard. Beyond 
 this, there was a spacious garden inclosed with 
 pickets, in the same manner with the yard. It was, 
 indeed, a garden — in which the greatest variety, and 
 the finest vegetables were cultivated, intermingled 
 with ttowers and shrubs : on one side of it there was 
 a small orchard containing a variety of the choicest 
 fruits. The substantial and permanent character of 
 these inclosures is in singular contrast with the 
 slight and temporary fences and palings of the Ame- 
 ricans. The house was a ponderous wooden frame, 
 which, instead of being weather-boarded, was filled 
 in with clay, and then whitewashed. As to the 
 living, the table was provided in a very different 
 manner from that of the generality of Americans. 
 With the poorest French peasant, cookery is an art 
 well understood. They make great use of vegeta- 
 bles, and prepared in a manner to be wholesome and 
 palatable. Instead of roost and fried, they had 
 soups and fricassees, and gumbos (a dish supposed 
 to be derived from the Africans), and a variety of 
 other dishes. Tea was not used at meals, and coffee 
 for breakfast was the privilege of M. Bauvais only. 
 
 From the description of this house, some idea may 
 be formed of the rest of the village. The pursuits 
 of the inhabitants were chiefly agricultural, although 
 all were more or less engaged in traffic for peltries 
 with the Indians, or in working the lead mines in the 
 interior. But few of them were mechanics, and there 
 were but two or three small shops, which retailed a 
 few groceries. Poultry and lead constituted almost 
 the only circulating medium. All politics, or dis- 
 cussions of the affairs of government, were entirely 
 unknown: the commandant took care of all that 
 sort of thing. But instead of them, the processions 
 and ceremonies of the church, and the public balls, 
 furnished ample matter for occupation and amuse- 
 ment. Their agriculture was carried on in a field 
 of several thousand acres, in the fertile river bottom 
 of the Mississippi, inclosed at the common expense, 
 and divided into lots, separated by some natural or 
 permanent boundary. Horses or cattle, depastured, 
 were tethered with long ropes, or the grass was cut 
 and carried to them in their stalls. It was a pleasing 
 sight, to mark the rural population going and return- 
 ing morning and evening, to and from the field, with 
 their working cattle, carts, old-fashioned wheel 
 ploughs, and other implements of husbandry. What- 
 ever they may have gained in some respects, I ques- 
 tion very much whether the change of government 
 has contributed to increase their happiness. About 
 a quarter of a mile off, there was a village of Kick- 
 apoo Indians, who lived on the most friendly terms 
 with the white people. The boys often intermingled 
 with those of the white village, and practised shoot- 
 ing with the bow and arrow; an accomplishment 
 which I acquired with the rest, together with a little 
 smattering of the Indian language, which I forgot on 
 leaving the place. 
 
 Such were the place, and the kind of people, 
 where, and among whom, I was about to pass some 
 of the most important years of my life, ami which 
 would naturally extend a lasting influence over me. 
 A little difficulty occurred very soon after my arri- 
 val, which gave some uneasiness to Madame Bauvais. 
 She felt some repugnance at putting a little heretic 
 into the same bed with her own children. This was 
 soon set right by the good curate, Pere St. Pierre, 
 who made a Christian of me, M. and Madame Bau- 
 vais becoming my sponsors, bj' which a relationship 
 was established almost as strong as that formed by 
 the ties of consanguinity. Ever after this, they per- 
 mitted me to address them by the endearing names 
 of father and mother ; and more affectionate, careful, 
 and anxious parents I could not have had. It was 
 such as even to excite a kind of jealousy among some 
 of their own children. They were strict and exem- 
 plary Catholics; so, indeed, were most of the inha- 
 bitants of the village. Madame Bauvais caused me 
 every night to kneel by her side, to say my pater 
 noster and credo, and then whispered those gentle 
 admonitions. which sink deep into the heart. To the 
 good seed thus early sown, I may ascribe any growth 
 of virtue, in a soil that might otherwise have pro- 
 duced only noxious weeds. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE AUTHORS FATHER JUDGE II. U. ERACKEN- 
 EIDGE.* 
 
 ' My father undertook to instruct me in the Latin 
 and Greek. He was himself a most finished classical 
 scholar, having been a tutor at Princeton, and after- 
 wards the principal of an academy on the eastern 
 shore of Maryland ; and he was as proud of the suc- 
 cess in'life of his pupils, and took as much credit to 
 himself for it, as Porson. He considered the classics 
 all in all, and thought no person could be esteemed a 
 
 * From Recollections of the West. 
 
673 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 scholar without them. According to his estimate, 
 even Franklin had no higher claim than that of a 
 strong-minded imperfecta educated man, who would 
 have been much greater if he had been bred at a 
 college, which I think very questionable. We are 
 apt to overrate the importance of those pursuits in 
 which we excel, or to which we have devoted much 
 of our time and application. This I think was the 
 case with him, and he was inclined to place too high 
 a value on the talents of those who were critically 
 versed in the masterpieces of Greece and Rome. 
 
 #**•*.**■:* 
 
 But in my opinion, by far the most valuable por- 
 tion of my education consisted in his conversation, or 
 rather lectures, for he spoke to .me alw&3"s as to a 
 man. He was near fifty years of age, and had been 
 a remarkable student from his childhood, and was 
 surpassed by few in the depth and variety of his at- 
 tainments. He appeared to live more in the world 
 of books than of men, and yet his natural genius was 
 of such high order, that it is questionable whether he 
 would not have been greater by depending more on 
 his native resources. His conversation abounded 
 with wit and eloquence, and original views on every 
 subject. The advantages derived from constant as- 
 sociation with such a man can be imagined, but can 
 scarcely be appreciated. Although there is no royal 
 road to science, yet the road may be shortened, and 
 rendered more accessible, by the assistance of such a 
 teacher. I had all the benefit of his matured intel- 
 lect, and highly refined ideas upon a thousand sub- 
 jects. 
 
 At this time my father was unhappily plunged so 
 deep in party politics, that he almost lost sight of 
 me. Federalism and democracy were then at their 
 height. He was a supporter of Jefferson and M'Kean, 
 an enthusiast in the cause of France, and, from his 
 high temperament, incapable of pursuing anything in 
 moderation. He was also involved in a personal 
 difference with the presiding judge of the court in 
 which he practised, and fearful that he might be 
 provoked to do something which might be taken ad- 
 vantage of, he resolved to retire from practice. He 
 wrote with the pungency and force of a Junius, and 
 spoke with the inspired eloquence of a Henry ; it is, 
 therefore, not to be wondered at, that he soon be- 
 came a formidable politician. He purchased types 
 and press, and set up a young man as editor of a 
 paper, which he previously named the " Tree of Li- 
 berty," with a motto from Scripture — " And the 
 leaves' of the tree shall be for the healing of the na- 
 tion." At this period, with very few exceptions, the 
 professional men, persons of wealth and education, 
 and those in public offices, were on the federul side ; 
 and such was the violence of party dissensions, that 
 it put a stop to all the pleasures of social intercourse ; 
 party differences and personal animosity almost sig- 
 nified the same thing. He wrote a number of things, 
 sometimes in prose sometimes in verse, which I read 
 with great delight and often committed to memory, 
 being of course a violent democrat as well as him- 
 self. The great majority, both in town and country, 
 was then on the federal side ; but fifty republicans 
 could be mustered in Pittsburgh, and not all these 
 were entitled to put a ticket into the ballot-box. 
 The success in the elections of M'Kean and Jefferson 
 soon effected a numerical change : according to the 
 usual course of things, the strongest side is apt to 
 grow still stronger on that account; and the rising 
 party is apt to continue to rise, as revolutions never 
 go backwards. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I now became a student in earnest, devoting at 
 least thirteen or fourteen hours out of the twenty- 
 
 four to my bonks, under the instruction of my father, 
 when he was permitted by the duties of his circuit 
 to remain at home. All my wants were kindly at- 
 tended to by my step-mother, leaving me nothing to 
 think of but my books. Our house was but little 
 resorted to, except by literary men ; in fact books 
 and reading formed the occupation of its inmates. 
 My little sister read the newspapers at three years 
 old, my youngest brother was learning his Latin and 
 French at six or seven, and the elder at fourteen was 
 translating Longinus, and the two works of Xeno- 
 phon — the Anabasis and Cyropedia, into literal Eng- 
 lish, line for line, and word for word, and then put- 
 ting it into idiomatic English, writing sentence by 
 sentence, under the direction of my father, who con- 
 sidered this, with his lectures and instructions, a 
 practical course of rhetoric. As to himself he never 
 dined out or invited to dinner, and was unwilling to 
 see company until after tea ; when persons dropped 
 in to hear his conversation, in which none excelled 
 him, although during the day it was difficult to get 
 him to say a word except on business. It was indeed 
 a treat to hear him speak when he chose to unbend. 
 He was an improvisateur of the first order. I have 
 heard him relate a story, when the illusion was so 
 perfect, that the hearer would suppose there were 
 half a dozen characters on the stage. Jeffrey, in one 
 of the numbers of the Edinburgh Review, says that 
 Matthews was inferior to him in relating a story. 
 He was entirely different; there was no buffoonery 
 or broad humour, either in the choice of his subject 
 or in his manner. Compared to the stories of Mat- 
 thews, it was genteel comedy or tragedy compared 
 to broad farce. He generally walked about, and 
 seemed to require this, in order to give full play to 
 his powers. It is remarkable, that what he said on 
 the bench while seated, had nothing of his usual elo- 
 quence; and when he was eloquent there, wldch 
 was but seldom, he rose upon his feet. 
 
 He frequently dictated to me, sometimes chapters 
 for " Modern Chivalry," sometimes essays for various 
 newspapers, chiefly on European politics, with which 
 he was singularly conversant. It was difficult to 
 keep pace with him. He directed the punctuation 
 of every sentence as he went along. He had been in 
 this habit for a great many years. His hand-writing 
 had become so bad, that it was almost impossible for 
 any one to decipher it ; so much so that a trick was 
 once played upon him by a gentleman, who sent 
 back one of his letters which he could not read, first 
 tearing off the signature and putting his own in the 
 place of it ; my father attempted in vain to make out 
 the scrawl! He would have been an over match for 
 Kapoleon in bad handwriting. He often dictated 
 his verse as well as his prose. I remember when a 
 small bo} T , having committed to memory some lines 
 on General Wayne, which were composed in bed. 
 and dictated in the morning to one of the students. 
 They were the first lines of poetry I ever committed. 
 No one was ever more careless in preserving his 
 compositions. He troubled himself as little about 
 them as he did for the fugitive effusions of his dis- 
 course. He once dictated to me a Pindaric ode on 
 hearing the report of the death of Governor M'Kean, 
 which turned out to be false. 
 
 The lines on Wayne have been much admired : as 
 they will occupy but little space I will transcribe 
 them. Some of the thoughts are like Byron's. In- 
 deed I have often thought there was a remarkable 
 resemblance in some of the features of their minds, 
 and modes of thinking on a variety of subjects. It 
 is curious that they both chose the 6ame subject for 
 a poem, and a very out of the way subject it was — 
 the judgment upon poor George the Third in the 
 other world ! The lines on Wavnc are as follows : — 
 
FRANCIS GLASS. 
 
 673 
 
 The birth of some great rnen, or death, 
 Gives a celebrity to spots of earth ; 
 We say that Montcalm fell on Abraham's plain; 
 That Batter presses the Miami bank; 
 And that the promontory of Sigeum 
 Has Achilles's tomb. 
 Presq Isle saw "Wayne expire. 
 The traveller shall sec his raonumeDt; 
 At least his grave. For this, 
 Corroding jealousy will not detract; 
 But allow a mound — 
 Some little swelling of the earth, 
 To mark the interment of his bones. 
 Brave, honest soldier, sleep — 
 And let the dews weep o'er thee, 
 And gales shall sigh across the lake ; 
 Till man shall recognise thy worth, 
 And coming to the place will ask, 
 11 Is this where Wayne is buried ?" 
 
 ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.* 
 
 Adams and Jefferson are gone — Let us moumthe 
 sad reality of their loss— let us rejoice in the glory 
 of their departure — let us condole with that solitary 
 and venerable man, the companion of their glory, 
 Carroll, the model of the accomplished gentleman, 
 the scholar, and the patriot. Washington, Franklin, 
 Jefferson, Adams, have passed to another, and a 
 happier existence, but their names will be associated 
 here, as the founders of a mighty republic. Washing- 
 ton, by the suffrage of all posterity, and of the 
 universe, has been assigned the first place ; not be- 
 cause he wielded the sword, and crowned the great 
 work with success, but because his virtues as a 
 citizen, his abilities as a statesman, hiB authority as a 
 magistrate, his godlike purity and disinterestedness 
 as a patriot, placed him beyond the reach of envy, 
 of rivalry, of competition. Nor should we conclude, 
 that because Adams and Jefferson have not been seen 
 at the head of legions, they were destitute of the 
 courage and capacity for command ; such minds can- 
 not be allied to fear, and those who ruled the desti- 
 nies of nations might have commanded armies. 
 
 We may seek in vain through the whole range of 
 history, for a parallel to the lives and deaths of 
 Adams and Jefferson. It would have been remarked 
 as extraordinary* if any one of our revolutionary 
 worthies had departed amid the glory of this anni- 
 versary ; still more if that one had been instrumen- 
 tal in bringing about the great event ; but when it 
 shall be told, that both the author and the advocate 
 of the declaration, so pregnant with the fate of un- 
 born millions, departed on that day, after having 
 lived the exact period of half a century from its 
 date, it will require all the weight of cotemporary 
 evidence, to place it on the records of history, and 
 all the faith of posterity to give it credit. It was 
 natural that the minds of both should linger upon 
 that most brilliant moment of their lives, and that 
 it should be the last spot of earthly vision to fade 
 from their vieiv; but that a secret sympathy should 
 exist between their kindred spirits, calling them to 
 wing their flight to the regions of immortality at the 
 same moment, is a circumstance at which we must 
 pause, and adore the inscrutable designs of Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 To their children, for we may now call them our 
 fathers, it is a pleasing reflection, that if ever for a 
 moment, the warm and sincere friendship, which had 
 commenced with the morning of our liberties, had 
 been clouded by the demon of party long before the 
 close of their lives, it had been renewed into the 
 most generous ardor, beyond the power of malevo- 
 lence. In the lives of these great men, the historian 
 will delight to trace the numerous points of coinci- 
 dence. They were both educated in the profession 
 of the law, a profession, which, in a free country, in 
 
 * The conclusion of the author's " Eulogv," 1S26. 
 VOL. I.— 43 
 
 a government of laws, and not of men, when liberally 
 pursued, deserves to be considered as the guardian 
 of its liberties. Before our revolutionary contest, 
 they had both been engaged in preparing the minds 
 of their countrymen for the separation, and with 
 Franklin, were probably among the first to foresee 
 its necessity, and pursue a systematic plan for its 
 accomplishment. As members of the first congress, 
 the one from the principal colony of the north, the 
 other of the south, they took the lead in bringing 
 forward and sustaining the important measure ; they 
 displayed at the same time those characteristics, 
 which, according to the author of Anacharsis, con- 
 stitute true courage — they knew their danger, feared 
 it, yet encountered it with unshaken firmness. To 
 both were confided the most important trusts abroad ; 
 first, to negotiate peace and amity with the nations 
 of F.urope, and next, as the first representatives of our 
 government, at the two principal courts ; Jefferson to 
 
 i that of Paris, and Adams to that of London. They 
 both filled in succession the second station in the 
 government; and were both afterwards elevated to 
 
 I the first. For many years after their retirement, 
 they were both the objects of peculiar veneration to 
 their countrymen. They saw, in the simple retire- 
 
 ! merit of private citizens, those distinguished men, 
 
 I who had been the chief magistrates of a great people, 
 and who had filled a station more dignified than that 
 of kings. In their great age, we are reminded of the 
 celebrated philosophers of Greece; and much is to 
 be ascribed to the power of that intellect, which they 
 preserved unimpaired, so highly cultivated, so habi- 
 tually exercised ; whose embalming influence almost 
 controlled and retarded the decay of nature. The 
 closing scene of their lives rendered the coincidence 
 almost perfect. But the doom of man is inevitable. 
 If virtues, and talents, and good services could secure 
 immortality on earth, our Washington had still 
 lived. Let us not then repine at the unvarying laws 
 of nature, and of nature's God, which have created 
 the vicissitudes of day and night, the changes of the 
 seasons, and have appointed a time for every living 
 thing to die. Under the guidance of hope and faith, 
 let us keep in view the celestial light, which, if 
 steadily pursued, will conduct us safely through this 
 vale of trouble and disappointment, to the regions of 
 happiness and immortality, where we shall meet 
 again with those whom we esteemed, and loved, and 
 venerated on earth. illustrious names of Washing- 
 ton, Franklin, Jeffekson, Adams ! delightful to 
 every American ear — dear to humanity — ever living 
 in the remembrance of posterity ! Cities may disap- 
 pear — empires may fall — monuments may be crum- 
 bled into dust — but unless the light of civilization 
 and science shall be extinguished by an eternal 
 night of barbarism, your fame and your honors shall 
 endure for ever. 
 
 FRANCIS GLASS. 
 The author of the Vita Washingtonii is known 
 to us only from the few facts presented in the 
 pleasant English preface to the work by tha 
 editor, Mr. J. 1ST. Reynolds,* from which wo find 
 that the author was educated in Philadelphia, 
 became a teacher in the interior of Pennsylvania, 
 where he formed an unhappy marriage, and his 
 means not sufficing for the maintenance of a . 
 rapidly increasing family, he removed in 1817 or 
 
 * Mr. Reynolds is the author of a "Voyage of the United 
 States' Frigate Potomac, 1831-1834," published at New York 
 in 1S35. He was a prominent advocate of the Exploring Ex- 
 pedition to the Pacific and South Seas, on which subject he 
 published an address in 133G ; he has also contributed several 
 spirited nautical sketches to the Knickerbocker Magazine. 
 
674 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 1818 to the Miami country, where he led a va- 
 grant life as a teacher in various places. 
 
 In 1823 Mr. Reynolds, who had passed through 
 a portion of the course of studies at the Ohio 
 University, being unable to return to the institu- 
 tion, made inquiries for a competent instructor 
 with whom he could complete his classical edu- 
 cation, and hearing of Glass in this connexion, 
 determined to visit him. " I found him," says 
 Mr. Reynolds, " in a remote part of the county, 
 in a good neighbourhood of thrifty farmers, who 
 had employed him to instruct their children, who, 
 in general, were then acquiring the simplest rudi- 
 ments of an English education. The school-house 
 now rises fresh on my memory. It stood on the 
 banks of a small stream, in a thick grove of native 
 oaks, resembling more a den for Druidical rites, 
 than a temple of learning. The building was a 
 low log-cabin, with a clapboard roof, but indiffer- 
 ently tight — all the light of heaven, found in this 
 cabin, came through apertures made on each side 
 in the logs, and these were covered with oiled 
 paper to keep out the cold air, while they ad- 
 mitted the dim rays. 
 
 " The seats, or benches, were of hewn timbers, 
 resting on upright posts, placed in the ground to 
 keep them from being overturned by the mis- 
 chievous urchins who sat on them. In the 
 centre was a large stove, between which and the 
 back part of the building, stood a small desk, 
 without lock or key, made of rough plank, over 
 which a plane had never passed ; and, behind 
 this desk, sat Professor Glass when I entered his 
 school. 
 
 " There might have been forty scholars present; 
 twenty-live of these were engaged in spelling, 
 reading, and writing, a few in arithmetic, a small 
 class in English grammar ; and a half a dozen, 
 like myself, had joined his school, for the benefit 
 of his instruction in the Greek and Latin lan- 
 guages, preparatory to a more extended course in 
 one of the Ohio seminaries. 
 
 "The moment he learned that my intention 
 was to pursue the study of the languages with 
 him, his whole soul appeared to beam from his 
 countenance. He commenced in a strain which 
 in another would have seemed pedantic, but 
 which, in fact, was far from being so in him. 
 
 " The following imperfect sketch, drawn en- 
 tirely from memory, may serve to give some idea 
 of his peculiar manner: — ' Welcome to the shrine 
 of the Muses, my young friend, Salve! Xaigt ! 
 The temple of the Delphian God was originally a 
 laurel hut, and the Muses deign to dwell, accord- 
 ingly, even in my rustic abode. u Non humilem 
 domum fastidiunt, wrribroswmive ripam." Here, 
 too, the winds hold converse, " Eurus, and 
 Oaurus, and Argestes loud," and the goddesses of 
 the Castalian fountain, the daughters of the 
 golden-haired Mnemosyne, are sometimes silent 
 with the lyre, " cilhara tacentes," that they may 
 catch the .sweet murmurs of the harp of /Eolus. 
 Here, too, I, the priest of the muses, Musarum 
 sacerdos, sing, to the young of either sex, strains 
 befire unheard, Virginibus pverisqve canto. 
 Plutns, indeed, that blind old deity, is far away; 
 and far away let him be, for well has the prince 
 of comic pi ers styled him a " filthy, crooked, 
 miserable, wrinkled, bald, and toothless creature I" 
 ^■Jttojvra, xvfybv, aSXiov, Qvauv, /xabupra, vubov. 1 " 
 
 Glass had already commenced the Life of 
 Washington in Latin, which formed the darling 
 object of his life, but his progress had been 
 greatly interrupted by his poverty. By the aid 
 
 J of his new friend, he was enabled to remove to 
 Dayton, where he could pursue his literary labors 
 
 I with greater convenience. His friend also agree- 
 ing to find a publisher for the Life, Glass returned 
 to the work with renewed energy, and ere the 
 close of the following winter, delivered the 
 manuscript. 
 
 Mr. Reynolds soon after left the country. On 
 his return the only intelligence he could obtain 
 of the Lati nist was that he had died during his 
 friend's absence. The precise place and date 
 were alike unknown. 
 
 Gla-s's work appeared in 1835, from the press 
 of the Harpers, with the title, Georrjii Washing- 
 
 | tonii, America Septentrionalis Civitatum Foede- 
 ratarum Prasidis primi, Vita, Francisco Glass, 
 A.M. Ohioensi, Literis Latinis Conscripta. It 
 forms an openly printed volume of two hundred 
 and twenty-three pages. Its latinity has gene- 
 rally met the approval ofscholars, and it has been 
 used as a text-book by teachers. 
 
 PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FEANCE. 
 
 A very pleasant and readable tourist's book was 
 published in London in 1809, in 4to., by Lt. Col. 
 Pinkney, of the North American Native Rangers as 
 the author is described in the title-page. We regret' 
 that we know nothing of him personally beyond 
 what this book affords; for it invites further 
 acquaintance. Its title is set forth at length — 
 Travels through the South of France and in the 
 Interior of the provinces of Prove nee and Lan- 
 guedoc, in the years 1807 and 1808, by a route 
 never before performed, being along the banks of 
 the Loire, the hire, and the Garonne, through 
 the greater part of their course, made by permis- 
 sion of the French government. The CJuarterly 
 received the volume with a professional sneer, to 
 which it had a double incentive in the book being 
 written by an American and preferring France to 
 England. We find it, however, not forgotten in 
 1814, when it reappeared in a handsomely printed 
 octavo. Lately Leigh Hunt, who has introduced 
 several entertaining scenes from it in his " Book 
 for a Corner," speaks of the sensation which it 
 created thirty years ago, when it set all the 
 world upon going to France to live on the charm- 
 ing banks of the Loire. It might well make Eng- 
 lishmen, spite of anti-Gallican prejudices, out of 
 conceit with their fogs and east winds by its de- 
 lightful pictures of the south of France, the purity 
 and salubrity of the atmosphere, the out-of-door 
 life of idyllic shepherds amidst abundant fruits 
 and flowers, and the easily excited gaiety which 
 overpowered the hardships of poverty. 
 
 Lt. Pinkney sailed from Baltimore for- Liver- 
 pool in April, 1807, and very seldom afterwards 
 troubles his reader with a date, a deficiency not 
 unusual with books where information of the 
 kind is most needed. Arriving in the early sum- 
 mer at Calais he purchases a Norman horse, 
 upon whose back he manages before he gets 
 through, counting cross-roads and deviations, to 
 accomplish his two thousand miles, reaching 
 Marseilles, the end of his journey, spite of the 
 additional year on the title-page, in the follow- 
 
PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FRANCE. 
 
 675 
 
 ing autumn. Arriving at Paris, having taken on 
 his way Amiens, Abbeville, Clermont, and Clian- 
 tilly, lie finds Gen. Armstrong American minister 
 at Paris, who introduces him in an imposing 
 levee to the Emperor, whom he 'sees " dressed 
 very splendidly in purple velvet, the coat and 
 waistcoat embroidered with gold bees, and with 
 the grand star of the Legion of Honor worked 
 into the coat : his person below the middle size, 
 but well compos ;d ; his features regular, but in 
 their tout ensemble stern and commanding; his 
 complexion sallow, and his general mien military. 
 He passed no one without notice, and to all the 
 ambassadors he spoke once or twice. When he 
 reached General Armstrong, he asked him 
 whether America could not live without foreign 
 commerce as well as France? and then added, 
 without waiting for his answer, "There is one 
 nation in the world which must be taught by 
 experience that her merchants are not necessary 
 to the existence of all other nations, and that she 
 cannot hold us all in commercial slavery : Eng- 
 land is only sensible in her compters." 
 
 An agreeable party was made up in Paris con- 
 sisting of Mr. Younge, the secretary of the Ameri- 
 can legation, his newly married wife, a niece of 
 the celebrated Lally Tolendal, and her sister 
 Mademoiselle St. Sillery, with whom our traveller 
 sets forth towards the end of July, in a carriage 
 and horseback expedition for the Loire. He 
 gleaned statistics and general information from 
 his friend the husband, admired the wife, and 
 was more than half in love with the sister, who 
 furnishes for almost every page of the gallant 
 Lieutenant new proofs of the charming qualities 
 of her sex and nation. It is amusing to observe 
 how fill of meaning and interest the simplest 
 remark is from the lips of this beautiful woman. 
 "'How happy might a hermit be,' said Made- 
 moiselle St. Sillery, 'in a cottage on the side of 
 one of those hills! There is a wood for him to 
 walk in, and a brook to encourage him b3 T its 
 soft murmurs to sleep.' I agreed in the observa- 
 tion," naively adds the enamored Lieutenant, 
 " which exiictly characterizes the scenery." The 
 maids along the route are continually entangling 
 the susceptible officer in admissions as to the sur- 
 passing beauty of this lady or their own. One 
 tine morning, after leaving St. Valier, the trees 
 were so "uncommonly beautiful," the meadow 
 flowers of such " more than garden sweetness 
 and brilliancy, the birds, moreover, singing mer- 
 rily," Mademoiselle was " in such life and spirits, 
 that it was not without .difficulty that we de- 
 tained her in her seat!" It is a very pretty 
 little comedy throughout. We do occasionally 
 hear of the price of land, the yield of wheat, 
 and the number of eggs to the shilling, but these 
 are unimportant interruptions to the perpetual 
 study of attractive filles de ehambre* and Wat- 
 teau pictures of fetes and dances, with genuine 
 stage peasants in flowers and ribbons, and night- 
 ingales singing in the groves. If to be pleased 
 
 * We may compare his (ray sketches of1807 with the observa- 
 tions of a much more staid personage, Erasmus, i.i the fifteenth 
 century. Both are equally delighted wilh ihe lively conversa- 
 tion of the maids at Lyons, and alike piquant in their cxpros- [ 
 6ion of it Erasmus's account of these fascinations is in his 
 famous Inn Scenes, " Diversorium," in the Colloquies. Sir 
 Walter Scott has adopted this dramatic sketch literally in I 
 bis Anne of Geierstein. I 
 
 oneself secures that enjoyment to others, our tra- 
 veller attains the desirable object. A hardship is 
 scarcely a discomfort in his smooth, easy, negligent 
 style. The manners of the book are somewhat 
 Frenchified, which is not the -fault of the writer, un- 
 less he is bound to shut his eyes and ears to what 
 is characteristic of the country; and something 
 may be yielded perhaps to the proverbial reputa- 
 tion of bis profession for gallantry. In a book, as 
 well as in a drawing-room, a man may be allowed 
 occasionally .to sacrifice something of his dignity 
 for the entertainment of the company. 
 
 PASSPORT 6CENE AT CALAIS IN THE DAYS OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 After our luggage had undergone the customary 
 examination by the officers of the customs, in the 
 execution of which office a liberal foe procured us 
 much civility, we were informed that it was neces- 
 sary to present ourselves before the Commissary, 
 for that so many Englishmen had obtained admission 
 as Americans, that the French government had 
 found it necessary to have recourse to unusual 
 strictness, and that the Commissary had it in his 
 orders not to suffer any one to proceed till after the 
 most rigid inquiry into his passport and business. 
 
 Accordingly, having seen our luggage into a 
 wheel-barrow, which the Captain insisted should 
 accompany us, we waited upon the Commissary, 
 but were not fortunate enough to find him ac his 
 office. A little dirty boy informed us, that- Mons. 
 Mangonit had gone out to visit a neighbor, but that 
 if we would wait till twelve o'clock (it was now 
 about nine), Ave should infallibly see him, and have 
 our business duly dispatched. The office in which 
 we were to wait for this Mons. Mangonit for three 
 hours, was about five feet in length by three in 
 width, very dirty, without a chair, and in every 
 respect resembling a cobbler's stall in one of the 
 most obscure streets of London. Mons. Commissary's 
 inkstand was a coffee-cup without an handle, and 
 his book of entries a quire of dirty writing-paper. 
 This did not give us much idea either of the per- 
 sonal consequence of Mons. Mangonit, or of the 
 grandeur of the Republic. 
 
 The boy was sent out to summon his master, as a 
 preferable way to our waiting till twelve o'clock. 
 Monsieur at length male his appearance ; a little, 
 mean-looking man, with a very dirty shirt, a well 
 powdered head, a smirking, bowing coxcomb. He 
 informed us with many apologies, unnecessary at 
 least in a public officer, that he was under the 
 necessity of doing his duty ; that his duty was to 
 examine us according to some queries transmitted to 
 him ; but that we appeared gentlemen, true Ameri- 
 cans, and not English spies. 
 
 After a long harangue, in which the little gentle- 
 man appeared very much pleased with himself, he 
 concluded by demanding our passport, upon sight 
 of which he declared himself satisfied, and promised 
 to make us out others for passing into the interior. 
 We were desired to call for these in the evening, or 
 he would himself do us the honor to wait upon us 
 with them at our hotel. Considering the latter as a 
 kind of self-invitation to dine with us, we mentioned 
 our dinner hour and other et ceteras. Mons. Man- 
 gouit smiled his acquiescence, and we left him, in 
 the hopes that he would at least change his linen. 
 ******** 
 
 We returned to Quillac's to dinner, which, ac- 
 cording to our orders, was composed in the English 
 style, except a French dish or two for Mons. Man- 
 gouit. This gentleman now appeared altogether as 
 full-dressed as he hud before been in full dishabille. 
 We exchanged much conversation on Calais and 
 
676 
 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 England, and a word or two respecting the French 
 Emperor. He appeared much better informed than 
 we had previously concluded from his coxcombical 
 exterior. He seemed indeed quite another man. 
 
 He accompanied us after dinner to the comedy : 
 the theatre is within the circuit of the inn. The 
 performers were not intolerable, and the piece, 
 which was what they call a proverb (a fable con- 
 structed so as to give a ludicrous verification or con- 
 tradiction to an old saying), was amusing. I thought 
 I had some obscure recollection of a face amongst 
 the female performers, and learned afterwards, that 
 it was one of the maids of the inn ; a lively brisk 
 girl, and a volunteer, from her love of the drama. 
 In this period of war betweeu England and France, 
 Calais has not the honor of a dramatic corps to her- 
 self, but occasionally participates in one belonging 
 to the district. 
 
 The play being over very early, we finished the 
 evening in our own style, a proceeding we had cause 
 to repent the following day, as the Cute rotie did not 
 agree with us so well as old Fort. I suffered so much 
 from the consequent relaxation, that I never repeated 
 the occasion. It produced still another effect ; it re- 
 moved my previous admiration of French sobriety. 
 There is little merit, I should think, in abstaining 
 from such a constant use of medicine. 
 
 PETE CHAMPETRE IN A VILLAGE ON A HILL AT MONTEET7TL. 
 
 Not being pressed for time, the beauty of a scene 
 at some little distance from the road-side tempted 
 me to enter into a by-lane, and take a nearer view 
 of it. A village church, embosomed in a chesnut 
 wood, just rose above the trees on the top of a hill ; 
 the setting sun was on its casements, and the foliage 
 of the wood was burnished by the golden reflection. 
 The distant hum of the village green was just audi- 
 ble ; but not so the French horn, which echoed in 
 full meloly through the groves. Having rode 
 about half a mile through a narrow sequestered 
 lane, which strongly reminded me of the half-green 
 and half-trolden by-roads in Warwickshire, I came 
 to the bottom of the hill, on the brow and summit 
 of which the village and church were situated. I 
 now saw whence the sound of the horn proceeded. 
 On the left of the road was an ancient chateau situ- 
 ate 1 in a park, or very extensive meadow, and 
 ornamented as well by some venerable trees, a3 by a 
 circular fence of flowering shrubs, guarded on the 
 outside by a paling o.i a raised mound The park 
 or meadow having been newly mown, had an air at 
 once ornamented and natural. A party of ladies 
 were collected under a patch of trees situated in the 
 middle of the lawn. I stopped at the gate to look 
 at them, thinking myself uupereeived; but in the 
 same moment the gate was opened to me by a gen- 
 tleman and two ladies, who were walking the 
 round. An explanation was now necessary, and 
 was accordingly given. The gentleman informed 
 me upon his part, that the chateau belonged to 
 Mous. St. Quentin, a member of the French Senate, 
 and a Judge of the District ; that he had a party of 
 friends with him upon the occasion of his lady's 
 birth-day, and that they were about to begin dan- 
 cing ; that Mods. St. Quentin would highly con- 
 gratulate himself on my accidental arrival. One of 
 the ladies, having previously apologized and left us, 
 had seemingly explained to Mons. St. Quentin the 
 main circumstance belonging to me ; for he now ap- 
 peared, and repeated the invitation in his own per- 
 son. The ladies added their kind importunities. I 
 dismounted, gave my horse to a servant in waiting, 
 and joined this happy and elegant party, for sueh it 
 really was. 
 
 I had now, for the first time, an opportunity of 
 
 END OF 
 
 forming an opinion of French beauty, the assemblage 
 \ of ladies being very numerous, and all of them most 
 elegantly dressed. Travelling, and the imitative 
 arts, have given a most surprising uniformity to all 
 the fashions of dress and ornament : and, whatever 
 may be said to the contrary, there is a very sbght 
 difference between the scenes of a French and Eng- 
 lish polite assembly. If any thing, however, be 
 distinguishable, it is more in degree than in sub- 
 stance. The French fashions, as I saw them here, 
 differed in no other point from what I had seen in 
 London, but in degree. The ladies were certainly 
 more exposed about the necks, and their hair was 
 dressed with more fancy; but the form was in 
 almost every thing the same. The most elegant 
 novelty was a hat, which doubled up like a fan, so 
 that the ladies carried it in their hands. There 
 were more colored than white muslins; a variety 
 which had a pretty effect amongst the trees and 
 flowers. The same observation applies to the gen- 
 tlemen. Their dresses were made as iu England; 
 but the pattern of the cloth, or some appendage to 
 it, was different. One gentleman, habited in a 
 grass-colored silk coat, had very much the ap- 
 pearance of Beau Mordecai in the farce: the ladies, 
 however, seemed to admire him, and in some con- 
 versation with him I found him, in despite of his 
 coat, a very well informed man. There were like- 
 wise three or four fancy dresses ; a Dian, a wood- 
 nymph, and a sweet girl playing upon a lute, habit- 
 ed according to a picture of Calypso by David. On 
 the whole, there was certainly more fancy, more 
 taste, and more elegance, than in an English party 
 of the same description : though there were not so 
 many handsome women as would have been the 
 proportion of such an assembly iu England. 
 
 A table was spread handsomely and substantially 
 under a very large and lofty marquee. The out- 
 side was very prettily painted for the occasion — 
 Venus commemorating her birth from the ocean. 
 The French manage these things infinitely better 
 than any other nation in the world. It was neces- 
 sary, however, for the justice of the compliment, that 
 the Venus should be a likeness of Madame St 
 Quentin, who was neither very young nor very 
 handsome. The painter, however, got out of the 
 scrape very welL 
 
 A small party accompanied me into the village, 
 which was lively, and had some very neat houses. 
 The peasantry, both men and women, had hats of 
 straw; a manufactory which Mons. St. Quentin had 
 introduced. A boy was reading at a cottage door. 
 I had the curiosity to see the book. It was a vo- 
 lume of Marmontel. His mother came out, invited 
 us into the house, and in the course of some con- 
 versation, produced some drawings by this youth : 
 they were very simple, and very masterly. The 
 ladies purchased them at a good price. He had 
 attained this excellence without a master, anil Mons. 
 St. Quentin, as we were informed, had been so 
 pleased with him, as to take him into his house. 
 His temper and manners, however, were not in 
 unison with his taste, and his benefactor had been 
 compelled to restore him to his mother, but still 
 intended to send him to study at Paris. The boy's 
 countenance was a direct lie to Lavater; his air 
 was heavy, and absolutely without intelligence. 
 Mons. St. Quentin had dismissed him his house on 
 account of a very malignant sally of passion; a 
 horse having thrown him by accident, the young 
 demon took a knife from his pocket, and deliberately 
 stabbed him three several times. Such was a pea- 
 sant boy, now seemingly enveloped in the interesting 
 simplicity of Marmontel. How inconsistent is what 
 is called character ! 
 VOL. ONE. 
 
I 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
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